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Klaus Jan 6
It's a wonderful day.
So I drink.
Skies are grey when the son is
away.

I'm on the brink of tears.
'cause my pen's out of ink.
I need ritalin with a beer. 


You'll say  I've  wasted my years.

But who cares if my brain's purée?
This is my life and I don't need it anyway.

January first, I'm out with the boys.
Oh the Joys of avoirdupois.
Bowing to the sink.
The Popped collars on our polos, salmon pink.
We drink until we can't think.

She'll  take my kid away.
I can't live a single man life.
I still need to pay.
No man's lonely without a wife.
I'll visit next birthday.

An unskilled worker's pride,
Always fills the void inside.

Dole squad can catch me.
I won't have pay no fee.




New year, same me.
Happy 2019.
Love you.
Klaus Dec 2018
You walked into that surgery room. The time's turning your body to grume.

I see it in those eyes old man,
You don't wanna be
alive.
But death you can't
contrive.

Old man, look and see your offspring . Look and see the old woman by your side.
Look at the happiness you
bring. The sadness if you died.

Still, you're  imprisoned in your human
flesh. Your grotesque wounds hidden under
fine mesh.

But, old man, don't you dissaffect.
Don't wear that face of gloom.
You walk like a conscious object.
But my dear old man, you'll walk out of that surgery room.

Soon.
Klaus Dec 2018
My heart of papier mache, dissolved in tears.
                   From tired days
  and wearied years.

 Angelic writing,

I read her line.
An Enchanted diary.
I just felt our souls, intertwine.
Here's to a life,
                      without expiry.


I thought about
how lost I was. High,
                    on a cosmetic buzz.

I heard her voice all around.
Then, I heard it resound.  

But how was that? she's not alive,

She died of typhus,
                              spring  of 1945.
Stupid
Klaus Dec 2018
/Lully, lullay, thou tine child/

O sisters too, how may we do, for preserve this day. This poor youngling for whom we sing.

/"Bye, Bye, lully, lullay"?/


Three wise men would  
ascertain,
Great Herod's crown, it would wane.

So mothers they weep for sons two and under, bodies seem gaudy amongst clothes, asunder.

Though the son of man  is left not slain.
Should he die,
                          It shan't be in vain.
Coventry Carol
  Dec 2018 Klaus
Danila Mokhonko
I’ve made friends
with the half-dead
spider
in my bathroom;

we watch each other’s
attempts at crawling
every morning-

him, in any
general direction,
and me,
to ease my stomach
into the toilet bowl.

he cheers for me
as I retch
and retch
and throw up
a little
stomach bile,

spit,
wipe my mouth,
thank my audience;

he’s my
best friend,
but he
doesn’t drink
unfortunately.
Klaus Dec 2018
Confronted, I'm helpless.
Running, I'm breathless.

My body's just a skeleton with a coat of human skin. I freeze and my knees, they turn to gelatin.

And if I can't defend her,
I'd just have to befriend her.

Until .... No....

If..

I  can become a man, that keeps his knees and his upper lip, stiff.
I wrote this when I was an embarrassing 15 and seven months year old, as apposed to an embarrassing 15 and eleven months year old.
Klaus Dec 2018
Now I know,
This is the first time we've
                  spoke.
But, I wanna be you.
I wanna wear your skin as a
                  cloak.
In your ambiance, I will
                  soak
And when they speak my name, i'll say who?

I wanna wear your clothes as
                    mine.
I want to live your life.
I want your receding
                    hairline.
I want your growing
                    waistline.
I want to love your wife.

9-5, I'd work your
                job.
I'd love your bratty son.
In the suburbs, a faceless
               blob.
I wouldn't  be an upturned
               slob.
And when I'd sit in your car or your study, I wouldn't think of a noose nor a gun.
For my father.
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