Turned out
Burned out
His mind a vacant lot
Debris and weeds, grown up
"Stay Out" sign, thrown up
No one to own up
To the mess on the block

Hard to restore
Trying to ignore
The broken concrete
Like wounds unclosed
Crumbling and overdosed
Garbage in the street

A hope at best
To find some rest
In a seamless mind
Like newspapers tossed
In deserted lots
Where no one walks
Without a glance behind

Blisters/Falling in love
Your body's warning signs
Whatever you are doing
You need to quit
Or do it multiple times
To create the proper callouses
Your ballpark
Your call

He was never fooled
Though sometimes ridiculed
In places he was not present
A face to face
Might displace
The confidence of his accusers
And the short chute to insignificance
Describing his tumble
By those with congenial
           and reciprocated pats on the back
In the comfort of closed quarters
Where disagreement
                on certain matters
Is considered
              not only uncomfortable
                                        but irreverent
At least in the context
Of a small room
A very small room
Where ideation beyond the norm
Is considered heresy
Or more troubling
Begs the insidious questioning
Of one's own absolutes
Or calmness in stature
And how firm the ground
Before lying beneath it

They voted not to let him join the B.P.O.E.

But he could still golf, as a guest.
No swimming!
Thank the Lord,
      that he was a very light-skinned *****

Blacked out
In the backroom
Caught up in the vacuum
Of space
Needing space
Eternal grace
With a black eye
A ******* eye
A cringe worthy black eye
That will fade
In passing days
Thank who?
Blame who?
Not God
           for short memories
No sense of history
Common sense
            the oxymoron
Most vivid in its display
               of division
With the rubbing of one's arms
In some uncomfortable manner
An attempt to soothe
An ignorance
Be it yours or mine