I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.
This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.

As soon as I saw it in front of me
I was moved by the peaceful sea
As wide as my eyes could see
And thought of the word ‘serenity’.

All my problems, worldly concerns
Were pieces of foolscap I could burn,
Multicolor ashes I would soon learn
Would blow away in own their turn.

So here am I now, moved away
From the world of my young day,
Nearer to the end as they way.
This is where I choose to stay.

It took decades from now to then
To live by the sea, beach and wind.
I feel grateful for the world I’m in.
An amazing place for my tale to end.

So, I’m going to stay right here,
In this very comfortable year,
Without worry or the old fears.
Gazing at the sea, it’s right here.

This boy born next to Kansas
Never knew what an ocean was.
I sit here and look at the sea
Just about a half mile from me.

You emoji’d me a happy face
I emoji’d you back a heart.
You sent me an okay thing.
When did all this start?

You shot me back an icon
That looked rather like a hand
But my phone’s screen is small
So I couldn’t quite understand.
I wan’t moving fast enough
To send an answer right back.
You sent another emoji and that
Was when I completely lost track.

I got from you a little thing
Like a jack’o’lantern face
So I sent a laughing icon
That must have been a disgrace.
You zapped back three letters
Which I quickly recognized.
W, T and F, in caps appeared
Like a specter before my eyes.

You emoji’d me a happy face
I emoji’d you back a heart.
You sent me an okay thing.
When did all this start?

I typed in a question mark
And quickly hit the ‘send’
Still hoping against hope
This madness could end
And we could begin to speak
As human beings can do
If they use the keyboard letters
And at least a finger or two.

I never heard from you again
I must have done something bad.
Not even a red face emoji
Or the one that means you’re sad.
I try to stay on top of things
As new fashions will unfold
But this kind of funny picture show
Quickly has gotten old.

You emoji’d me a happy face
I emoji’d you back a heart.
You sent me an okay thing.
When did all this start?

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

It would be fair if you
Fell in love so hard you
Don’t know what else to do.
Just love me until time is through;
Want nothing but me to love you.

It isn’t fair that we
Can’t be together every day,
That there isn’t time enough to say
All the loving things I want you to say;
Say you’ll love me every single day.

I am aware life isn’t fair
At least not every time I want it to be.
Life isn’t structured for you and me;
To be that perfect couple from history,
The one they write love songs about endlessly.

It isn’t fair that you
Look as lovely as you do.
That you are so sweet too.
It’s isn’t fair that you don’t
Love me as much as I do you.

It will be fine with me
If I finally end up to be
An annoying buzzing bee
In the ear of a society
Sated on complacency
And gluttonous dependency
On the masters of larceny.

It is for the future to see
If the rhymes that come from me
Help heal the national infamy
That passes for propriety
When the heads of society
Treat celebrity notoriety
As conditions of acceptability
And even some kind of laudability.

With sad and appalling sincerity,
Maddening sycophantic celerity
And unfortunate lack of probity;
And what seems to be jocularity
All pretense of care or integrity
The villains in Washington DC
So constantly convince me
That we need my kind of poetry.

The rich never starve
So they don’t understand
When others do.
They have no earthly idea
What the starving folks
Are going through.

They are being taught
By those that have cash
That poor are lazy trash
And it’s fine to ignore
When they suffer.

If the poor were wise
They would choose another
Better way of living.
They’d surely not starve
But would rather carve
Out some way of  life
That brought wealth to
Their kids and their wife.

It’s got to be something
That the poor has done
To make them into
The neediest ones.
They should even work
For some fast food place
Because being poor is
A huge, social disgrace.

And the women should stay
At home with their kids
The same way our mothers
Of yesterday all did.
It’s shameful the way
The poor make their spouses
Work at jobs all the time
Outside of their houses.

The rich never starve
So they don’t understand
When others suffer.
They fail to accept that
We are their sisters
And their brothers.

I see other people
And they’re happy two by two
It’s like they all know
Exactly what they should do.
They smile sweetly
They hug and hold hands
TheY talk to each other
And seem to understand.

They look into their eyes
And don’t quickly look away
And seem to be listening
To what the other has to say.
The smiles are frequent
And so is the cheerful laughter.
It seems they are well into
Their happily ever after.

Two minus one
The mathematics of my story.
Plenty of guts
But never that much of glory.
There must be something
I have not learned to do
That makes one plus one
Add to up to a decent two.

Going out to dinner
With couples is quite a trial.
Everyone gets uncomfortable.
I quit doing it after a while.
It hurts to see happiness
When you aren’t getting much.
The reminders are constant
With their every loving touch.

Two minus one
The mathematics of my story.
Plenty of guts
But never that much of glory.
There must be something
I have not learned to do
That makes one plus one
Add to up to a decent two.

He’s a refugee of sorts
From society’s glitter gutter.
His nouveau riche attitude
Show in every word he utters.
That is where he’s from.
He’s nothing but glitter litter.
If he doesn’t get what he wants
He’s bitchy, obnoxious and bitter.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

His daddy bought him toys
Of the fanciest richest kind.
Dad didn’t care what it did to him.
He must have been blind.
He ruined the boy with money
Buying his way through college
So that when the boy left there
He had style and little knowledge.

Daddy gave him a nice fortune
To start off his spoiled whelp.
Son was never really good at much
But having a few million helped.
The kid liked glitz and glamour
And especially glittery women.
One after the other he used them
And never really got smitten.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

Now a few children later
They have become a bother.
They keep needing things
Like money from their rich father.
He wonders where they got
That sickening greedy habit.
He’s fears if they can get
His gold they'll surely grab it.

He’s a legendary narcissist.
And prostitutes adore him.
He likes his body to be fat
But keeps his morals slim.

I’m still stuck in the fairy tales
Of magic shoes and handsome prince,
Of servants of my own to boss
And I’m still at wash by hand and rinse.
My dreams of riches and luxury
Are still around and just as strong
But haven’t come true that much.
So I must be doing something wrong.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

I’ve kissed so many damn frogs
My lips have become amphibious
But not one morphed into a prince
So, the solution must be obvious:
I am not holding my mouth right
Or kissing in the wrong phase of moon.
I am not going to be able to hold on
If this wish doesn’t come true soon.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

I’ve bought magic seeds and amulets
To help the process on it’s magic way
But nothing seems to be working for me.
There must be better words to say.
Some kind of abracadabra mantra
That makes the real voodoo begin.
If I ever get this incantation right
II’m going to do it again and again.

Zippity zappity, zoppity, zoom.
This is me begging at the moon.
Flaffity, naffity, raffity, roon.
My fairy godmother needs to come soon!

My friends called her Gypsy
And other offensive things.
Her clothes were always colorful
And she wore a lot of rings.
Her skin was dark and lovely
As was her long lustrous hair.
She had the second sight
And a lot of love to share.

She knew what she was doing
And I, a youth, surely did not.
I was fascinated from the start
Blown away by the luck I’d got.
Here was this exciting woman,
A creature of such mystery
Who seemed to want to spend
Her time with such as me.

I couldn’t call her Gypsy
Like other of my friends
I loved her and determined to
Stay and see how it ends.
But she took me much further
And showed me the secret me.
She said she was Cassandra
And she meant the world to me.

Her manner seemed to know me
Though we had only just met,
I was sure this was an interlude
I would not let myself forget.
She told me things about myself
She could never have guessed,
And took me into her bed
So I could learn all the rest.

We spent our time those days,
Those first few like a dream
And it may have taken many more
But that was how it seemed.
Then one day I woke up to see
She was packing a few things.
She took away her second sight
Her beauty, her candles and rings.

I couldn’t call her Gypsy
Like other of my friends
I loved her and determined to
Stay and see how it ends.
But she took me much further
And showed me the secret me.
She said she was Cassandra
And she meant the world to me.

Nothing could be finer
Than to have a real vagina
In my britches.
I’m changing what I’ve got
Don’t tell me I am not
All you bitches.

Some don’t think my gender is my place to decide
They don’t know that I’m a woman inside.

Nothing could be finer
Than to have a real vagina
In my britches.

Nothing could be better
Than to change my gender letter:
Make it legal.
All will call me miss
Or give my ass a kiss
And make it regal.

I have been a girl inside my whole entire life.
Now, if i want, I can be a wife.

Nothing could be better
Than to change my gender letter:
Make it legal!

I don’t tell the homophobes just how they should be.
They all need to do the same thing with me.

Nothing would be sweeter
If I never had this peter
To confuse things.
How happy I will be
With that serenity
That a cooze brings.

You may doubt the logic here, but I’m here to say.
Trust me when I tell you I’ll be happy that way.

Nothing could be finer
Than to have a real vagina
In my britches.

This is NOT autobiographical but is a bit of fun for some of my Friends over the years.
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