On tv it looks so copper clean
Ringing in naked dreams
Living out those picket fence schemes
To get the American bling

Morality is black and white
There are no heroic black knights
The good guys are just
And they just wear white hats

But life is painful
Like a cancer vampire
******* your life force
Pale skin quivering

Dark bags under your eyes
No hair there because of the chemo
Despair and denial on ivy drips
And reality tv made us ill equipped
To handle it

Sometime I wish the tears would stop
That the empathy would vanish from me
That I couldn’t see what I see
See what this reality has made of me

History is white sheets
Red arm bands, fat *******
Uninformed Loud mouths
A canvass that drips wet with my outrage

I sip the last drops of my stimulants
Drop the anti-depressants in the toilet
Forget my docility
Embrace more than half of my hostility

I don’t think much will change
Despite how hard I clamor
Despite the sparkles and the glamour
How I use the language to entertain and inform

This is therapy
In the form of Poetry

My future Is a retro black and white
you can have the hear to eternity
Romance can be created
did beauty destroy the beast
the clicks exist in your mind
it's so sad and beautiful
that in death we find understanding
blue and resting under the moon light
let the moment exist or make it happen
is there a right or a wrong
tread lightly on your ancestors
A throw back to the future
nomadic minds laid to rest
with the modern pharmaceuticals
take it back to a place we know
a warm comfort  to wrap yourself in
but with the knowledge we have
let us search for the truth again
even if it crushes us

The shining, gleaming, easy-wipe
linoleum-tile future is here!
You’ll be the talk of the town,
with our new and improved model
hard at work in YOUR kitchen!
DE-LUX features now available
at a low low cost for the smartest, most efficient,
top-of-the-line psyche of your dreams!

I’m not feeling all that well, my friends.
It’s been that way forever.
You could see the clearest of days;
I would see stormy weather.
The doc said that there’s nothing we can do.
He said, “Just blame it on the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.”
Now some pills will make it all better;
others will make it much worse.
It feels like I’m in a witch hunt
and everyone else threw the curse.
I really could use me a broom; this is true.
I’ll just get away from the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
I just can’t get out of bed today when
it feels like I just jumped in.
With this little game of counting sheep,
you know that I just can’t win.
The mathematician will be retiring soon.
He has a bad case of the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
The hours—they turn to days.
The days just turn to weeks.
A squirrel just had his nuts drop.
You can bet it’s one of the meek.
Whatever sound, it really was in good tune.
Perhaps it was the low dopamine
and the serotonin blues.
It’s time to get the oil changed—
getting thicker deep inside.
If I get a few more things fixed up,
I’ll have me a real fine ride
with a radio inside that ride just for my crew,
one that plays my low dopamine
and my serotonin blues.
So the ambulating bandleader quit.
I think that he’s still on the mend.
He claims that bad-boy poetry could
lead to a worldwide trend.
All agree this cat has way overpaid his dues.
It’s only the low dopamine and the serotonin blues.

She’s heading to the cabinet for another run
through the field of dreams—or so it seems.
She’s been dipping into the till;
kind of hippie tripping right beside the still,
been running through the mill—just like
Jack was chasing Jill
up the road,
up the road,
then down the road that never seems to end.
It always has that unforgiving bend.
Good thing that I am not her friend, because
she would find her way into my cabinets;
she would crawl inside my cabinets,
take the tractor for a nice little plow.
Oh, so predictable—just like a cartoon mouse
rambling along through the rest of my torn house
to all my other cabinets,
to all my other cabinets.
Now she’s heading to my favorite secret spot.
Does a basic-entry sweep like I was always taught.
Pharmers’ daughters don’t make for nice friends.
I just need my cabinets until the very end.
Shouldn’t friends know when to say when?