Watch a bar of soap, marvel?
Until kingdom come, and it's still just soap...
But, with a bit of waiting for better, water is such a heathen soul
Exact a drop, with a party at hand, and you to will play life's joker...

***** with a racier past, friend?
Silence come of age, with a rosy cheek...
Is chastity's sore head, mine, or a change of kindred's?
Into a good friend, with another bottle, cheap...?

Pasts of choice, between you and irony's wall...
Here of love, to make many more than meant
In a secret rendezvous' hall, where even the truth has found a friendship, little
And wanting that show to become a sincerity; can we talk and eat?

Talc, and each...
Drunk as I am, am's godliness predilects cleanliness...
At a sour moment with a spare don't it, in a haven't oft reach...
For a stirring same, I wish to see you turn stones into a God bless...

That was it, a whole realm of courtesy, come and gone with favor
And a new means to a worthier end, a wish to add silent beginnings?
To court a new time of sense and share; to these we know us, living's query
Come with the world's answer, I have met it; soap with it's own questions...

If light is the fastest thing in the universe,
why is darkness already there when light arrives?

After watching Harry and Megan Sussex grub for ever more cash and attention, I’ve decided that they should start a OnlyFans site.

We’re going to a *****-free dance party.
“You don’t have to drink to have fun.” I assure myself, in the bathroom mirror, but somehow the event sounds like a high school dance.

I’ve been reading the Internet - was it really a giant squid that sank the Titanic?

...

Panpsychism Is a scientific theory postulating that consciousness is part of the fabric of the Universe.

On the theological level, why would God (or nature) create the bitter taste of espresso and vivid, azure skies slashed with rainbow sunsets if stimulating consciousness weren’t important?

“Colors, tastes and smells are no more than names,” Galileo declared 400 years ago. “(as perceptions) they reside only in consciousness.”

Does life exist, as sensors, to experience stimuli for the galactic consciousness?

What’s in your glass, huh?

What’s your poison
with the noise and the noise
in and out of the head?

What swirls, has legs
and kicks like a mule?

Fool juice, nana called it,

but **** me
I could use some fooling

I take 3 steps forward, and 1 step back .
I was sober almost 4 months.

Doing swell, the job, prolific writing.
and then, wham, A bottle of Absinthe in two hours,
Not even Van Gogh on the box or the worm wood could
make sense of the garbled words I wrote.
**** Hemingway and Fitzgerald.  And Stein can go to Hell.

When I left home,
I was broken and bruised.
Daddy took it out on me
When he fell victim to the *****.
I thought when I graduated,
I'd finally get to choose.
Find a world where the bars
played rock instead of the blues.
The day everything changed,
There was a fork in the road.
There was a wise old man,
And this is what I was told.
"If you go to the left, you'll stay in hell.
But you'll get your revenge
when he dies in a cell.
But if you don't want revenge,
go to the right.
You'll travel the world,
you'll make a difference.
But it will be hard to sleep at night."
I didn't even think. I ran to the right.
He told me it would never be the same
If I ever had to come back.
But I was okay with that.
I had everything I needed in my sack.
Five years later,
I woke up alone in bed.
A purple heart hung above my head.
Even though I am where I am today,
I don't regret it.
Because when I go to my grave,
When someone is asked to describe me,
They'll say "he was brave."

I wanted to write a poem
about the incessant discomfort
I always feel in my left eye
whenever my contact lenses
become old and dry
I thought about how it tickles
but scratches at the same time
and starts off alright
just a minor annoyance
but quickly, overtime
becomes almost unbearable
like my pre-school bully himself
is folding down one of my eyelashes
just enough for it to poke me
at the slightest movement
then I thought about how
I'd sooner write a poem about my life
and how it started out equally alright
and quickly, overtime became almost unbearable
as if my pre-school bully didn't do it right

so I found him in his adult life many years later
wife, two kids and a mortgage
yappy staffy-cross, two cars
and an alright job as a graphic designer
his garden full of gorgeous flowerbeds,
a full head of hair and a fading right hook
"MAKE ME FEEL **** LIKE YOU DID THEN."
a puzzled look on his face,
garden hose flooding his drive and the yappy
staffy-cross still yapping away
at the living room window
"I'M DEAD SERIOUS ANDREW,
NOTHING HURTS LIKE IT USED TO."
so he called the police
and I never got to feel young again
unless you count scurrying away from
a council estate under the threat of
a poor meal at Parkside police station
the rekindling of my youth

so this is my infomercial poem
about how not to confront someone
always be fully clothed
that's very important
avoid being drunk
any mind altering substance
is best avoided in my opinion
remember just because you care
just because you remember
does not mean anyone else does
oh and
don't eyeball craft beer when
you still have your contacts in
you know what?
-just don't eyeball craft beer