It's not possible to give what you have,
It's not possible to say what you want,
It's not possible to feel and to be felt completely,
It's not possible to love someone the way you wish,
It's not possible to touch someone the way you imagine,
It's not possible to write what you truly felt,
It's not possible sometimes to be who you really are,
We are ever changing, ever exposing, ever defining, wandering souls.
It's all about possibilities sometimes.

young lassies near and far
were subjected to looking
at his personal bar

he'd stage the exhibits
on mobile phone devices
all those groinal tid-bits

exposing his wares
in a devil may care way
of indecency to the eyes
he'd frequently flay

on a particular poetry forum
the fellow can be found
advertizing his kit bag
so unedifyingly around

a sixty year old man
would in time be
getting a nab
for putting out there
his wayward
tab

somewhere inside
the Ohio state
law authorities
will pinpoint
the repugnant gate