also, I remember
sitting on
his knee

             one grey eye lost in youth
                     skin older than the dirt
                           I played in

telling me to gurgle my hard ‘K’ sound
let it roll and sustain ~



           it was a revelation
                the ability to talk to crows  /

shoved neck twisted chin
                  stress ***** dissipate

vertical lines
above a bridge
       concentration wrinkle

slits peer
pupils dilate
redness
                       sleepless

dew gathers
             corners frown
                      gleaming white
                                shines /

don’t bother
hitting the heart
sharing, liking, paying, promoting
save your energy
money
and time ~
we are not friends
associates
brothers and sisters in poetry
I am a rude 40 year old white guy
who writes as release
writes to be the best I can be
writes with an eye to hard print publication
I write for me
this is just somewhere to put it… ~
I barely ready anything here
your feelings, musings, thoughts
useless fodder cluttering my home page
worthless nonsense *******
barley coherent in its triviality ~
remove yourself from me
for a new version is about to break free
the hostility I exude on facebook and twitter
is finding a new home
here ~

inadequate,
feeling that there is no way to express
12 years of love and devotion
to her –
granting gifts daily,
I sit enamored by grace
caught up in her eyes
longing to just quietly sit close
reach over and touch gently
the sexiest leg ever birthed –
whirling sentence fragments
spin endlessly
no longer attached to Kansas
I find myself with shiny new slippers
in a land I didn’t know existed –

stepping back I realize I am still unable to create for myself

completed
better than before
whole
soul mate
ect
ect
words…trite and inconsequential
when seeking to transcend
and elevate ideologies –
she is what I never deserved
but lived to experience
her blessing as part of my life
brings peace and balance
to a half burnt jig-saw puzzle
stunned, I can only weep
she truly loves me –
12 years ago in a dim living room
stranger expressing vows for eternity
three small children watched quietly
as their mother married a ******
in pajamas
only to spend the rest of their lives
with a father they could count on—
flash back to Tina
profile backed by the Arizona desert
a picture I return to often
moonlit body
exposed by the tent flap
perfection in memory
angry eyes flicker
as a 1984 15” flies from the stand
never a dull moment
when married to a Lion –

my face hurts
looking at my countrymen
and the insanity that is rampant
we allow our government to **** innocents
in the name of safety
while leaving those of us most at risk
to wallow in the dank, squalor
that is untreated mental illness –
all the conversation is about regulation
of tools, equipment, merchandise
when we need to be discussing the de-funding
of federal and state facilities
here’s an idea:
give tax breaks to doctors working with this population
incentivize the public to work together in bridging these gaps in society
not out of fear, but love for our fellow man –
a deranged soul bent on ******
will find a way to ****
as sure as the sun shines
and hardware stores sell hammers
inconceivable homicidal events
will be part of the new United States culture….
seriously, look at what we put in our bodies
both as food and medication
how could anyone expect that all of us would stay
well-adjusted
and pro-social –
there is another angle
even more sinister and devious that just leaving crazy people
to freely roam the streets without so much as a check in
and it lives in the realm of conspiracy
and within the walls of the lunatic fringe surrounding society at large
it holds the notion that somewhere between HAARP
the CIA, the NSA, the FBI,
combined with shadow operatives
of the illuminati and new world order
have been periodically tapping individuals
with the proper mental state to preform horrific acts
with the agenda of furthering certain political ideology
while concurrently undermining the freedoms and liberties
that make the United States of America a beacon of hope
to the poor and disenfranchised across the globe…..
how, you ask, does this happen….
Sandy Hook,
Umpqua Community College,
Zimmerman,
mass media pushing the hype train
to the top of Everest
and sending that som’ma’ma’*****  sailing into the masses
with a new scotch, neat, in hand
they watch us flounder and fight
laughing all the way
to the safety of their
underground fortresses –

sickened
by media lies
legislative disguise
rotting food
attracting flies
beguiled by trite examples
limited poling
and internet trolling
expressionless selfie
apathy as fashion
androgynous culture
manly men are maligned
while supermodels ******
minds
warped youths scramble
attempting to grasp
beauty
through surgery
and consumerism
their tiny orange bodies
reflect social illness
its glare blinding
bound to the taxation system
pre-social security number
these zombie babies
march to Red Bull
FOX news
and social media *******
fluoridated and infected
they reject ideas
not rooted in technology
…mock astrology
believe in genetically altering
living organisms biology
practice unlicensed psychology
and pharmacology
all the while supporting
underground government demonology
…….. my apology
lost in this madness
I feel trapped and isolated
and the irony hits
flattening my preconceptions
“As part of, I am responsible for…”
…..darkness and pain
crash on aging shoulders
realization
and defeat

red-faced and bruised he sits sobbing
planning sweet revenge
the laughter echoes and bounces
filling cells with hate and contempt
to make them all pay is the only hope for joy –
the cold of the barrel brings flashes of flushing
lost in thought but with nothing on his mind
he stares into space cradling the answer
to see her face as she realizes
the shocked jocks when the explosions start
drunken shop teachers stumbling to the exits
footprints etched in blood –
pre-dawn preparation brings realization
and the recognition of superstition
a Sunday school memory of ****** as wrong
combines with an unexpected weight
as a backpack is hoisted to slouching shoulders
better to just bring the tool
which feels light as a feather –
hidden in the woods
staring at the school
contemplating redemption
barely audible is the click of the hammer
father always had a preference for revolvers
feeling slight pressure all he can do is squeeze –
classroom antics end with a start as everyone looks to the window
was is a backfire?
someone has firecrackers?
horror crosses childlike faces as a body is pulled from the woods
we all thought he was sick
guess we were right –

experientially suffering
watching my contemporaries
trade freedom for fear
I feel lost in confusion –
Those who stood with me
as we occupied Portland and Salem
now shun the rights
of their countrymen
by promoting the removal of a flag –
The moment we, as a nation,
decide certain symbols
hold so much power that they
must not be allowed in the public arena
we are no longer democratic,
free,
or upholding the notions presented
by those wig-wearing forefathers –
It is only by the defense of our most offensive members
that we can truly understand
Freedom of Speech;
Americans must be allowed to be
racist bigots
in order for the rest of us
to have the freedoms we so hold dear…
the **** must be allowed to gather
Neo-****’s must be allowed to parade
as, then, and only then,
will I be allowed
to maintain my own special brand
of insane propaganda –

soft and pasty
white freckled skin entices
encouraging my hand
to stroke and rest upon
a perfect thigh –
my eyes caress each natural curve
as I take in
a vision of loveliness
gifted to me
by a loving and gracious universe…
and I am thankful –
hypnotic notes tickle my ear
as she speaks of the day’s trivialities
I am smiling, completely enraptured
knowing full well
man can experience love…
if only he is open to the moment –

as in any artistic endeavor
we encounter those who would hate
no matter the level in which we are clever
everything seems to be taken as bait –
when I write, I am purging my emotions
within any given moment, day or night;
it is one of the few areas in which I experience “devotion”
and I don’t judge my work as ‘wrong’ or ‘right’ –
I consider myself something of an artist
and that realm works wholly with perception
never once have I made claim to be the smartest
while it is pretty clear, I have my own direction –
in short, if you don’t like my style of work
just pass it by, there are many types here
I see no reason to act like a ****-hurt ****
just because to you, my message is unclear –
So I will leave you for now, while you ponder this request
and perhaps you will think more than just once
for regardless of my writing, I live truly blessed
and your attacks make you come off as a dunce –

t’was darkly in the winter morn
before the sun’s rays were born
before the sheep were set for shorn
before the maids had milled the corn
I heard a noise from upon the step
reminding me of a traffic wreck
or when ole uncle slipped off the deck
woke in hospital with a broken neck
I jumped on up from my bed
with legs and arms just like lead
a face with anger, colored red
but a sense within akin to dread
t’was just ole Santa on Christmas night
reindeer dancing with delight
the feeling escaped me, the one of fright
and instead I thought, “I must check my sight”
I’m near 40 and of no Christian ilk
there is no tree, nor cookies and milk
yet here I am in pajamas of silk
standing eye to eye with a mythical elf
large red nose and twinkling eyes
just like in the stories I thought full of lies
looked him up and down as if for size
and leaned down placing my hands on my thighs
needing for a moment to catch my breath
thinking I may be quite near death
or that this was some flashback from LSD or ****
when he spoke I could only hold my breath
“you’ve been quite good or so it seems
so here I am to haunt your dreams
and give you gifts with ribbons and strings
but mostly to remind you of other things
like somethings you will never understand
there are concepts that live quite out of hand
and dimensions that exist without air or land
and a cosmic joke with no real plan
you’ve gotten to wrapped up in esoteric visions
forgetting to experience this life you are livin
so this be the best gift I am given
here are the keys, you’ll no longer be driven”
and with that bit of fluff he was gone in a flash
leaving me to quietly stroke my moustache
and tighten the rope on my wintery sash
when it hit me like lightening with a blinding loud crash
I was now free to do what I please
Santa had gifted me the ability to see
I breathed in the ocean and exhaled the trees
and fell to the ground on my hands and my knees
good ole Santa Claus had done showed me the way
a way to live and know just what to say
the ability to leave behind the dismay
and recreate myself anew each day
I went back to bed feeling renewed
no longer needing validation or food
gone was the desire to be sarcastic or rude
truth be told, I was still going to need the food
but the point holds strong and the meaning’s the same
a change took place that altered my brain
taking me from a place unhinged or insane
and leaving me safe with no need to place blame
yes this is the year Santa changed my life
gave me a gift that near matched my wife
offering a change from a place of depression and strife
to one of hope and love, of joy, and of life
oh Santa dear, how could this be true
I was one who never believed in you
like a pagan, a wiccan, Satanist, or Jew
or the little old woman whom lived in the shoe
but from henceforth and on every new day
I will think of the night that you came my way
appearing through the fog and the snow that did spray
changing forever the meaning of Christmas day –

this morning
I felt it in a damaged knee
smelled it on the air
watched the clouds with
knowing atici…………pation
winter was coming
and its brutishness
would not easily go unnoticed  --
the steady preparatory ant
the fattened bear
thick with salmon grease
and sedge grass
ole man Barkley
splittin’ cord wood
dark brown chew spit
trickling from the corner of his
downturned mouth…
and the migrating geese –
my skin prickles at the air
and the visions of the season to come
holiday meals and family gatherings
cooking and sharing
little rolling hills for sledding
trimming a tree
in the cozy warmth
of our country home –

looking across time
from my etheric perch
or was it a pike
as I sat on my flounder…
as I was perched on a flounder…
perched on a pike I floundered
pike perch flounder
flounder perch pike
pike flounder perch
mike’s rounder peach
like sounder greetings
tricycle ground feet
triglycerides around meat
polymorphic lounge ****
people forget
poetry is expression
silliness for its own sake
nonsensical whimsy
for laze-abouts and lollygaggers
with unicorns and dragons
nothing is more magical than language –

Lungs filled deep the sweetest smoke
and gave a dizziness to the scene
I felt on an island cold and remote
as if just awakened from a dream

calloused feet touched lightly down
on rocks and stone worn smooth
I heard the church create such sounds
my body trembled with the truth

t’was my shoes they sold at the gate
leaving me slightly unnerved
knowing blisters were to be my fate
I complained it was more than a tourist deserved

I had paid all fees without an issue
even purchased a souvenir
with all my crying, they only offered tissue
and continued to look at me queer

I hobbled off, cursing under my breathe
knowing it would not go well
and now as I sit, so close to death
I look back at that place as hell

the tongues of the young ones
hold guns at nuns in the sunshine
unwinding the twine I find folks tryin’
to be kind with no mind to station
in a nation of free mason determination
I ration my subjugation while indoctrinating
all involved in the situation
meanwhile, contemplating the aggravation
due to lack of communication and the infestation
of democratic non-utilization with my proletariat
upbringing encouraging me to parrot the derelict
inherent bliss of my parental units while ******* in a river
the law giver’s deliver quivering shivers eating liver
near the monument built to remember
what never is reveled in the benevolent morning
snoring by now, I am sure
the reader (you) looks for purity in poetry
while I offer only fodder
….sure, it’s clever…  –

Who dares disturb our quiet sleep?
With observation dark and deep,
looking around our peaceful plane
wondering about a friendly keep.

A little horse so very plain
Struggles under a chilly strain
Looking back at the driver’s eye
Ready to run the path again

Quietly the snow does fly
Coating the land in pearly white
A silent night without a peep
Leaving the stranger filled with fright

Be gone intruder, flee this deep
Upon your horse to make the leap
For we are cold and want to sleep
…for we are cold, and want to sleep

the fatalist in me thinks about a Trump vote
quietly marking the box that will end the American dream
snickering to myself as the ballot falls into the bin
knowing I have done my part to bring about the end –
destroying families across the land
and building a wall greater than any Chinese design
breaking the back of a faltering agricultural system
asking the masses of impoverished to stand right there with him –
expressing a desire to actually nuke Iran
and that the military would rival that of any era
planning on expanding our empire abroad
telling the public that peace is a fraud –
I cannot help the reality that I am entertained
frozen with terror, eyes peeled to the spectacle
this train wreck developing is really just catching speed
could the American people willingly vote for greed –
there is only one way to bring about the end of days
and like anything it takes work, practice, and dedication
but this move seems more real than any before
we are all being wooed by Babylon’s ***** –
I, for one, am going to sit back and enjoy this ride
it’s not often one gets to see the fall of Rome
a nice mountain lake; spring fed and crystal clear
waits hidden in the mountains if the end gets too near –
see, having a plan means there’s no reason to worry
and gives me the advantage to vote for your doom
while most of you sit, hands folded to pray
I’ll hike to the hills when we come to the end of days –
maybe I won’t survive the coming nuclear battle
when ‘the donald’ shoots his mouth off to Vladimir Putin
or Kim Jon, or Iran, or the Afghani folks
but until then I will prepare and go on making jokes –

reinvigorated by an atmosphere
creative juices flow
seems a lifetime since I sat
surrounded by stories of religion
having a 'god' experience –
memories flood through barred windows
as smiling familiar faces
dressed all in blue
great me with love and acceptance
again –
gratefulness hardly encompasses
this blessing
the joy
of this holy union
blessed by our love
for one and other –
same speckled tables
same off-white chairs
same same same
yet
so very different—
growth and change shine
similarities shift
re-membering a sacred membership
and once again
sharing this time –

I want to write
Poetry so lovely
That you would come to my home
And attempt to take my wife
As you fell so in love
Just by reading my feelings –
I long to spin verse
So magnificent
That you quit your job
And run to the Cascade foothills
To start a new life
Among the fir trees
And the maple saplings
Listen to the whistling elk
Carry his long note across the valley –
If I had the repertoire
of words
the ability to conjure
and create images
forcing you to change your life
would I feel satisfied with my work
if you came to me in the streets
and told me tales
of growth and evolution
based on what I had written
could I stop…..
no.
I could not.
I am compelled to yarn
I am driven to create
And the written word
Is my canvas
Are my paints
Clay
Marble
I sculpt
And manipulate
Sounds and rhymes
Ideas and idiosyncrasies
Seeking to become an icon
Or an enigma
While still living my quiet life
On a small farm
Overlooking the foothills –

Breaking waves crashed upon my feet
toes poking into the dampened sand
on my face I felt the sun
and considered its warmth and power
got lost in quiet reflection
and found myself searching deep
within my own soul for some answers
to the great universal questions
but I did not know why we are on earth
or by what mode our story began
I was just as the sand, but a tiny speck of dust
one in the cornucopia of humanity

the wind blew a swirl of sand
large enough to partially blot out the sun
wind gusts with such force and power
I could no longer see my reflection
but stood still for fear of the ocean so deep
when I heard the slightest whisper of an answer
as if the wind sought to respond to my questions
surrounding life on earth
and how it all began
from just asteroid dust
to the gross expansion of humanity
I looked down at my bare feet

I felt on my back and neck the heat of the sun
Worried I was being burned by its power
from both sides with the sea’s reflection
I stepped into the deep
and in the darkness I found some answers
to my most pressing question
about the source of water on earth
and if colliding comets are where it began
mingling with asteroid dust
to create a hospitable environment for humanity
from fins to feet
and back to dust and sand

the frigid water squished me with such power  
there was no more time for peaceful reflection
as I sank further into the deep
no longer looking for answers
I had but one question
was this to be the end of my time on earth
when it feels like it as only just began
am I to just become more dust
catching in the dry and voiceless throats of humanity
I sank fathoms and feet
until I lightly touched down on the sand
but I could see no sun

I tried to locate my reflection
but my own face was lost in the deep
I cried out for an answer
but my mind only reeled with more questions
mainly relating to if I was still on the earth
had I been taken back to when time began
before water and dust
long before the taint of humanity
I felt as though my feet
were caught in a quagmire of mud and sand
unable to ever be dried by the sun
never touched by ultra-violet power

distorted and skewed as the water was so deep
but holding answers
to my questions
it came up from the very earth
and I began
to strip away the flotsam and dust
and stand up for all of humanity
in an instant is was just at a few feet
stopped suddenly in the sand
and shown me the grace of the sun
in all its glory and power
I saw my own reflection

I, at once, knew the answer
I no longer needed the questions
we were part of the earth
that was how we began
from magnetized and electrified dust
we mounted a charge to become humanity
growing legs and standing upon feet
walking away from the shore and sand
to stand in a meadow grown by the sun
feel the mountain power
and experience the quiet stream reflection
that can take a Being so deep

free from the bane of answering questions
I felt free to fall into the earth
become as it had began
dissolve back to dust
and let go the trapping of humanity
trade in my five-toed feet
and melt into the dunes of sand
warmed by the setting sun
granted power
through reflection
there was nothing so deep
as to have all the answers

I sat upon the red clay earth
thinking about how it all began
scratching around for a handful of dust
that represented humanity
I tossed it into the air and it flew a few feet
and landed amongst the sand
sat baking in the sun
void of power
lacking the ability for reflection
falling off the cliff into the deep
seeking answers
finding only more questions

was this how it all began
truly, no alien force or god hand, just dust
morphing into what we know as humanity
clapping hands and stomping feet
on the chemically altered sand
drawing energy from the sun
to give our homes power
no longer seeking inner reflection
to anything running very deep
instead seeking only safe answers
by asking mundane questions
never considering one’s place on the earth

my teeth clamped tight and crunched some dust
wishing it were the bones of humanity
starting with toes and feet
eating mankind like the ocean does the sand
like comets to the sun
like power
does to those impoverished and lost in reflection
leaving bodies buried deep
offering no answers
to any child’s question
to the state of the earth
to how this all began

it started with the civilization of humanity
when we planted out feet
firmly into the sand
grew crops in the springtime sun
and felt the corruption of power
lost sight of our reflection
somewhere so deep
that the true answers
only come across as more questions
as we slowly destroy the earth
same way it all began
by turning the land into dust

I saw my feet sink into the sand and get burned by the sun
Its power caused a reflection and my soul sunk deep
Looking for answers to questions about the state of the earth
Then it began to all turn to dust and I watched the end of humanity

There, in the doorway
Brown field mouse looks inside
My spirit shudders

Exterminator
Looking just like a space man
Ready for the moon

Chemical spray clings
Morning dew inside my home
Scratching from the wall

Wooden trap, cheese piece
So delicately balanced…
The mouse laughs at me

Layer of strong glue
Forest fibers make the tray
One foot is enough

Tear falls on the deck
Cat has killed my worthy foe
No wet food tonight…..

new dynamic enters the stratus
something shifting
triangulated attitudinally
sitting on a chesterfield
brushing away lint from grey trousers
thinking about ending the lollygagging
and crushing despondency
with action akin to space flight
energetic tingles transform
particulates blend and restructure
transformer style
before unknown element
lose in society
beaconing children and religious
to eat of the space fruit
Orion’s apple
the pope wants us to be open to alien religion –

broken bottles and battered buildings
hide tormented parents
and their heathen children
backlash flash bang tear gas flies
Amerikkka holds its breath
as the Midwest burns down –
naked in the van Mr. Grey lays lifeless
lingering thoughts of drunken debauchery
surround the station
when all at once crowds gather
riled and red-faced
ready to revolt
against revolting police practices and procedure –
A nation of ADD suffers turns on the news
make-up clad news father figures sit behind desks
costing more than those the impoverished they report on
cut-scene and a black screen have new meaning
as the green party can only wait
for this to pass
as all things do --

~

news reels of stock footage spin endlessly behind my eyes
grainy black and white headlines flash
strobing faces find me through the rotation and
stare into my eyes through static and filter
rich sienna waterfalls spill over pale lids
as I realize they cannot be saved

skin and soil carry ancestry through mitochondrial links
this commonality ends with each new crime
        shivering controllers pull tighter rare and endangered fur
        coats and scarves     mittens and hats
        they see brilliance in our separation and live
        like vampires on disunity and hate

each day the echoes reverberate with the crying
cold grey cave walls my only comfort against the noise
an olive drab tattered backpack with empty canned food cans and
a broken hatchet handle matches my mood
as I wonder aloud to no one…
How did you not all see this coming?

how on earth
could steaming squash and Brussel sprouts
be as good as Doritos and a soft serve swirl…
sure, I desire to be a healthy old man
but my taste buds wish me dead at 45
they long for sweet wheat and extra large
portions of meat
indiscrete feedings at fried food buffets
all the while maintaining the look of a fella
only slightly over-weight
…..still, I feel poorly
headaches and joint pain
racing brain and an inability to refrain
from the foods that are doing this to me
I never thought after conquering
8 years of ****** addiction
and 15 years a tobacco ******
that candy bars would be my greatest foe
forget candy bars
let’s talk bread….
loaves of sourdough golden roasted
rye to die for
and cinnamon…rolls,
banana or zucchini
sprinkled on toast with a touch of sugar …
it is no wonder I am larger than need be
the BMI calculator says I am 84 pounds
from defeating obesity
so much for my professional lineman physique –

~
Heaving rain soaked blue jeans
over fallen and rotted fir trees
I struggled to follow my uncle
and father through the forest.
They moved almost mythical,
never disturbing low hanging branches
or crushing limbs with an echo of snaps,
misty bodies weaving in and out of shadow.
For one moment I lost sight
as they slipped over an embankment
and slid down to the water’s edge.
A deep panic filled me
as I scrambled to catch up.
When I poked my head up over the berm
and saw them standing above the slide
a smiled passed my lips.
My father reached tobacco stained fingers
down the shaft of a wooden stake
and pulled a wire up from the murk.
Feeling tension on the line, he let out a whoop.
It was the first set on this creek
and already we had paid for dinner and gas.  /

mop handle doldrums
staring through space
into universe
drooling goon doodling cartoon
caricatures of lost loves
silt accumulates
at the corners of his fleshy mouth
soft movements of incoherent mumblings
give rise to spit lines stretching
and contracting
green bodied fly occasionally drawing ire
if not attention
the world seems out of focus though the grime coated glass
passersby unaware of the squalor of a man possessed
frantic scribbling by a chewed up #2
held in scarred and stained paws
webbed by genetics
battered by an uncaring world
unflinching girl
frozen grimace
geologic

close your eyes and dream
open your heart and let the
‘Sanders Spirit’ flow through you .........
         It’s easy!

just take a moment to help your fellow man
pause for a second to consider
being considerate

      show compassion
            to your brethren
                     with empathy
                           and care /

people get lost in dollar signs
thinking a socialist wants all
your personal property
this is of course
pure hogwash
spoken from lips of those locked in greed
folks
            who have forgotten their neighbors
                       first name /

forget Jesus…..
2000 year plus absentee specter
asking you to turn cheeks
so as to be hit again
think ‘Sanders Spirit’
and share
if nothing else
your love /

In the tress stood a man of wild beard

While walking one day he sort of appeared

                                       Was covered with fur

                                              He let out such a ‘GRRR’

                                                       That I ran away thinking, “How weird!”

brambles hide the brown thrush’s nest
giving seclusion and isolation to pink skinned babes
mouths agape, little wings outstretched
beckoning to be given a small taste
of life giving nourishment –
tiny bills protrude  
offering slight squawks of discontent  
eyes unable to open as the curse of youth stands strong
even in the avian kingdom
undeterred, miniscule vocal cords push forth
with the force of fear of death driving
chirping into the void
awaiting mother or father
and the blessings they bring –
satisfied on meal worms and grub bodies
three lads nestle in for a quiet nap
as a warm Spring breeze passes nearly unnoticed
except for the movement of brier leaves
and the rustle of newly forming feathers –

without sleep and nourishment
a dark clarity begins to form
a recognition that I alone
see
or at the very least
within my social and cultural setting –
mindless ninnies scramble to save pennies
while increasing both blood pressure
and heart attack chances
over the almighty need to consume
quiet laughter fills my ears
……it comes from inside –
angry glares replace blank stares
cares flare and claws tear more than an equal share
hare hair flies and bare heads screaming
gleam in the florescent glow of 75% off Chinese trash –
shoving children and trampling the elderly
masses of maniacs march
in the coldest of temperatures
in the darkest of nights
during a season branded with thankfulness
there can be only one High-Shopper (clever ‘highlander’ joke) –
old fashion box televisions give way
to LCD hi-def theatre sound home entertainment systems
reasonable priced down to just a shade under six thousand dollars
a paltry 2 months’ pay
to  enjoy the privilege and honor
of having all of your thoughts fed to you
as if you were being spoon fed applesauce
in a low income nursing home –

a place within
begins, again
to shirk chagrin,
win and grin
the light’s so dim
pushing against the wind
I need a friend
guilty of sin
to buck this trend
of pretending to spend
upending my den
encouraging all-in
yet, there’s no letter to send
or drink to blend
that can defend
acting like a rear-end
my own fat I rend
watching Armageddon
live on FOX at 10
hosted by Morgan Freeman
this has become bland
I wash my hands
and walk off into the sand –

inflamed, red with ****
capped in a snow white helmet
harboring a hair

the infected zone
irritates and bothers me
flea bite out of reach

adolescence marred
mountain ranges across cheeks
geographic ***

pimple head blues song
way down south the bayou bump
stands at attention

impressions, winter
so many flakes cascading
zit in a white-out

shoulder boil lanced
now the shirt fits me better
but I miss my friend…

little wart all wet
rain falls on imperfections
making them shiny

Turns out, perfect weight

     is **** ******

             livin’



                            total despair.

One day while taking a dump
I considered a President Trump
My *** got so light
I could not see the light
Then suddenly shat out a stump
Speech that was of my own
Something internally grown
A speech for mankind
That would give piece of mind
And I went running right out of my home
Into the street… oh no a big truck!
And wouldn’t you just guess my luck
I wasn’t quite dead
But the hit on my head
Turned my stump speech on Trump into junk
You can imagine my sadness and shame
For the country I took all the blame
Could have saved the day
If I had looked both the ways
And now things will stay just the same –