How exquisite it is,
Awaking day to day,
With many bills to pay,
Not a second to lay,
And many passersby,
Come and go my way.

What happened to Spring?
The cold, Winter chill,
Bothersome and bold,
Prolonging sunshine in May,
And a hopeful bloom of flowers,
Early on a Summer’s day.

No longer do I have the eye,
The once vibrant palette,
Has faded to shades of gray,
That vision of what could be,
Has drifted towards the wild cards that I play,
Merry and chipper, not ever,
Not today.

What keeps me at bay,
As my passion for trying becomes fray,
Is the internal defeat from external way,
Way of the ****** that seems to slay,
Every bit of purity in my heart that lay,
Formulating a misery that is here to stay.

All I aim for is to sleep,
That fine sleep on that lonely, inevitable day,
Existing and not existing, I’m sorry to say,
Is the only relief I feel as I hope and pray,
For God to bring me peace,
After a lifetime of disarray.

Mind molded like a block of clay,
Clay that never hardens,
Only my heart hardens like clay,
Youthful spirit and innocently gay,
Is a treasured philosophy,
I strive to regain some day.

The size of the world, on my shoulders that weigh,
Far from purpose and fulfillment I seem to stray,
Happiness is chosen, but not encouraged by they,
He or she of whom that continue to outlay,
My fragile, decaying soul,
I’m not okay.

Ditty dum, ditty doo,
Dozens of dollars disappeared,
Foolishly spent on that dame,
I would have done a dime for,
Had her dumbness died down.

Not a lick of lint in my pocket,
I reflect on our dances in the dark,
Daringly caressing her body to mine,
All of those dimes been daunted,
By my need to woo and wow her.

She had darted the way of the dime,
Out of sight, out of mind, out of spirit,
In the poverty of love and coinage,
I wallow in my woes,
As if I didn’t do this deed to myself,
Doomed from the depths of doting,
Like a ******* dodo.

They say chivalry is dead,
Yet is there nobility in poverty,
When the honest man’s motivation,
Vanishes in the night,
Into some other scrub’s arms?

A dime, a dame,
They’re all the same,
Coming and going,
The flow of cash,
The passing of lovers,
Only to learn,
That life’s one true currency,
Is the endurance of obstacles,
And we all end up bankrupt in the finale.

He sweats when he poops,
Not just any old ****,
A **** of glory,
A **** of a lifetime.

The kind of ****, that jacks your heart rate,
The kind of ****, that makes you breathe heavy,
A **** so intense that your bowels moan,
And generate a need to remove your shirt.

The cold, yet intense sweats of this ****,
Cramps in the lower abdomen, sharp and warm,
The sweet relief of tension, when that one big log comes out,
All hot and steamy.

Followed by a stream of liquidy brown,
He wonders how his body even operates,
The unholiness of what exits through,
That holiest of holes, next to the birth stump and boulders.

Pondering the consumption of two nights before,
He sits bare-assed on this porcelain mouth,
Ingesting every bit of solids, liquids and gasses,
That exit from his **** canal.

Clothes tossed onto the floor,
His ******* harden from the unpleasant draft,
Caused by the perspired glands,
That shiver from trauma and nightly air.

You are in heaven, when she loves you.
You are in hell, when she scorn.
Her eyes have the power to shrivel your soul down to an insignificant little raisin.
Her smile melts bodies into congealed mush.

Without her say so, I’m merely anonymous,
A vagabond, some *****,
Trotting through the fields, outside of her heart,
Hoping to gain entry past the gates.

The scent of her, intoxicating,
Like laughing gas,
A jovial inebriant,
As tranquillizing as her wholesome chortle.

Who or what am I, by comparison,
Without her eyes, her skin,
The taste of her lips,
A sip of blackberry brandy.

Her legs, more perfect, refined than David,
Between them, the Holy Grail of contentment,
Where life begins, where it can end,
At her say so— her command.

******* crafted by the hands of God,
I marvel at the sight of such beauty,
In such a grotesque world,
That she owns with her movement as graceful as the wind.

She makes me quiver, like salt on a slug,
As her silky, slick locks flip over her shoulders,
Those shoulders, help me,
Forget Greek architecture.

How dangerous it can be,
To tread through the seas of her love,
Anticipating rogue waves,
This schooner musn’t capsize.

Dancing with her, as if the last two on Earth,
I sway her body, closely against to mine,
Her passion radiating against my desire,
Bound to create a combustion greater than the Big Bang.

And that Big Bang, where our everything meets,
Her breaths, short but sweet,
Her gaze pierces through my existence,
As I force confidence daring to look into her eyes,
While I aim to satisfy her every desire.

If I should be so bold, so foolish,
To take her for granted,
May my soul burn in Hell,
For all of everlasting.

I’m nothing without that woman,
Women, thank God for ‘em,
For there is no greater rendition of Nirvana,
Accessible to mankind.

Your presence be known, if needed,
In a pinch,
You’re here or there when summoned,
Yet never praised,
Often overlooked and misunderstood.

Always guessing where this road will end,
How backwards is over where you bend,
For all of whom claim to be your friend,
Your classiness and craftiness I will always commend.

Finding nowhere to rest my head,
You were a place to lean on,
A host when I had no place to dream,
A mentor of my bizarre fantasies,
Of all trades that you’ve mastered,
That I aimed to perfect.

Ages lightyears apart,
Yet still closely in tune,
We play the same music,
A grasshopper to your sensei,
I sail the endless seas of your knowledge,
A lighthouse to my rocky waters.

With shared poverty,
You scraped together your last,
To fill my belly with lamb,
Your cynicism of man,
Your confidence in me,
A father and son, not quite
A grandfather and grandson, hardly,
An odd couple that just makes sense.

A Sinatra-like scholar,
With more brains, ***** and bravery,
You are a man’s man for men,
Everything that I want to be,
And everything that I could need,
In a friend.

I see you,
Uh-huh, I see you,
I see right through you,
I see you.

I see your desperation,
Your attempts to keep me wanting,
You,
Everything about you,
I see you.

I see you turning older, on the outside,
More mature, like a sophisticated riveter,
But you’re still a talentless shrew,
Daddy’s little princess,
Without the ability to drive forward,
I see you.

I see you for what you are,
I see you for what you always have been,
Always will be,
Always fail to be,
I see you.

I see you rubbing my face in dirt,
I see you trying so hard to be mean,
Independent,
Free of me,
I see you.

I see that all of that would be okay,
If I didn’t see how you still care,
I see that you still care,
I see you.

I see that if your attempts to move on,
were to help yourself,
Not to hurt me,
That’d be fine,
But I see through you,
I see you.

I see that you are better off,
I see that I’m well on my way,
I see that if you had any courage at all,
You’d stop pretending that we both,
Don’t see,
How much we miss our little era,
Even though we put on this digital show,
Of being fine,
I see this facade we both play.

I see you,
Seeing me see you,
And seeing how phony we are,
Pretending to see nothing,
I see you.

To simplify,
To complicate,
These questions, on repeat,
In my questioning, confused head.

What do I want from this world,
Beyond simplification,
Yet a fraction of complication?
I’ll never know.

All I know, is that incarcerated birds,
still cheerfully chirp,
And nothing is ever what it seems,
Not even people.

I learned the hard way,
Achieving desires means,
Losing drive,
A sense of purpose,
And all fulfillment subsides.

Success is a state of mind,
Placement is what brings you peace,
So much to experience,
Yet so little focus.

At a certain point,
When getting old,
This contemplation follows,
And leaves me with nothing to show,
For all that I’ve experimented with—
Because staying put is too hard to bear.