There isn't much left.
That's the way it is sometimes.
You plan and plan
for the day
when there won't be any,
and yet you're still surprised
when there isn't much left
in the end.

My days are not like seven fat cows
or seven skinny ones.
My days are like veal.
They're slaughtered young,
and at night I feast upon them.

Some nights I can sleep contentedly afterwards..
And others,
I lay awake unable to dream at all.

Guilt keeps me awake.
I've become a kosher butcher of time!
Often my own.

That's the way it is sometimes.
There isn't much left.
So I plan and plan
trying to postpone the day
when there won't be any.

Her plan
with bantam
there shakes
subsequent arthritis
or foment
her albatross
when zion
mats superfluously
and poverty
now ungrateful
in their
Milwaukee suburbs
while her
ruby floss
allure in
her java
melts mine.

Paradise Child is
The world of different
Meaning like paradise
Is vacation
Sometimes poet and poetress
Need a plan called "paradise"
But to get that you
Have to able to feel comfortable
And wisdom.

I tell myself that
I am a Paradise child
To show the universe
That I am who I am
Looking for more information
Contained who is the Paradise
Child?

Paradise is Child
Child is Paradise
Paradise and the world are two
Things I love
And I hope that I am the
Paradise Child.

                      By K-mari ©2016

planning suicide
taste-testing cyanide
gun powder blush
drunk driving lush
hit on myself
burried by a shelf
pretty lace noose
back-rolling caboose
trip to a cliff
rat poison spliff
davey’s locker dive
****** du killer bee hive
releasing the Kraken
monoxide hose in the back end
a sleep not to dream
an end to the mean.
a dip in formaldehyde
planning suicide.

Bills are scheming with a lightweight check
               again.
Swear to God they must by
         best of friends.
And now I'm sitting solo on my couch
               again
with these 4 walls.
They've become parenthetic.

It's the same everywhere,
               I know.
Same for my friends.
'Cuz the loan checks that we're writing won't
          pay dividends.
We majored in Assumptions,
tossed our caps and
               then
we found new meanings
for what's copasetic.

Now it's easy...
too **** easy...
So easy...
It's too easy.

To wander these same neighborhoods
and stay in tiny, ****** apartments
when the loose ends of your 20s tangle
and you're tied to where you've always been.

And I'll never ask for
          FOR ANYONE'S HELP.
But I still can't take
          CARE OF MYSELF.
So I'll
          COOK MY DINNERS
     ON THESE BURNING BILLS
and laugh my way to the bank
so they can repossess my smile.

Days keep blurring through to nightlight gleams,
               I know
time is racing past but
      thoughts are slowed.
And I'll be sitting pretty on my couch
               alone
inside 4 walls
because habits are a home.

It's the same everywhere,
               I know.
Same for us all.
Late nights and lame jokes we're making
          push back walls.
We majored in Assumptions,
tossed our caps and
               all
we found were new ways
to be pathetic.

But it's easy...
just too easy...
So easy...
It's too easy.

To stay in soured relationships,
stay still in tiny, ****** apartments
when the low points of your paychecks dangle
while you're trying to climb as high as rent.

And we couldn't be in
          ANY WORSE HEALTH.
And we couldn't be less
          FAIR TO OURSELVES
but we'll keep on keeping
like it's copasetic

And we'll never ask for
          ANYONE'S HELP.
Though we still can't take
          CARE OF OURSELVES.
So we'll
          COOK PLATES OF CROW
          ON OUR BURNING BILLS
and laugh our way downtown
where we can reassess our smiles.

I hope to contemplate the Mind of God,
As onwards, the human race does plod,
Is it Armageddon, where once we trod?
No, not yet, I hope to discern God's vast plan,
For the total billions of each human,
Is it towards anarchy we plod?
Who hopes to read the mind of God?
Let's contemplate humanity,
One multi-faceted entity,
What's wrong with global peace armies?
To save blowing up our sons and daughters,
This is not Peace like it oughta!
But if we had leaders, visionaries,
Would there be a balm for humanity?
We hope for a future for our society,
As onwards, one human race does plod,
Not Armageddon yet, where once we trod......

I hope to contemplate the Mind of God.