I went to the fridge
to get my beer
but oh dear
I spilled my beer
all over me
Mu sweet Bud
your odor I reek
So kiss my cheek
Get drunk with me.

O Calliope, muse
of epic poetry
and Erato, seducer
of love poems,
do ye know about
the pains of life
or about the
tremors of the soul itself?
perhaps not.
then where shall i find the true museum muse,
that marvelous explorer of the
labyrinth of life exhibits?
if i discover him
will he reveal to me love held and love released?
will he then disclose to me
the pain, pride, and promise of my existence?
will he flash memories affixed in my heart?
which tomb, then, do i want to unearth?
or am i careless or timid when deciding
which episodes i want others to see and
which i hope to bury?

Through Rain, Sleet, and Snow
        by Tom Mach


         Drops of cold rain dot the landscape,
    and the ice-glazed roads hate car
especially mine when
I have to pamper my tire
and coax them
not to slide off the road.
The grayish sky is also angry
as it continues to discourage me
so I turn on the radio
only to hear weatherman drone on
about a predicted historical snowfall
but I don't give a **** about that.


The hospital doors never close
and I may be needed in ER today
to save the life of a child

Obama set the country on fire
and fiddled while it burned
But along came a dream builder
with extinguisher in hand
Trump was his name
and he sought no fame
but put out the flame
to make America great again.