methinks, the would-be poets
have all lost their sense of humor
and are engaged in a tragic struggle
to retain their personal identity,
to keep from falling off some edge,
to decry a most miserable love affair,
to keen coyote-like at a disappearing moon,
to obtain sympathies only available
from other well-meaning sycophants,
and have also lost a certain dignity
that goes with the creative urge, the
willingness to throw off convention, to
explore, to invent situations unreal,
where they are the victors, the
heroes and heroines of a dying literature,
and to laugh out loud at all the circumstances
that have brought them to expose themselves
in such an unseemly manner
I raise a New Year's glass to you all
may you find peace, dignity, purpose
and regard in the coming year, and
overcome the forces of doom

I asked this question of a one armed man,
“Can you plant a seed and make it grow?”
He said, “I really do not think I can.”

The same I asked of another one armed man,
He said he could but half-heartedly did sow;
He never finished with his plan.

The third bragged heartily but never began;
He talked a lot of all the things he’d put in every row,
But in the end, he ran.

The fourth realized it as a good thing to do, and
When he tried, what do you know?
He succeeded and became a better man.

The time in anyone’s life is not a prohibitive span,
To try out things that challenge you to grow;
Be brave, and try to do all the things you can,
And don’t be discouraged when you have to change the plan.

Honestly, I have no
feeling about now
just now, because
I am hiding, I am
not really here,
and time is behind me;
I can be here, silent
forever; but time
likes to creep up,
and when it does,
I kick it back
with my left foot,
and when I'm standing
that takes some practice;
divided right down
the ******* middle
is my mind,
and my balance
eventually always lands
on the gravity

there isn't much
time left, the
round things
are all rolling
down the hill

I keep Hello Poetry
at the bottom of my page
so that when I need to
descend into language
I stop gesticulating
in such awkward
maneuvers, and
start to think

I don't remember
opening this other
bottle of wine, but
it is here now with its
disgusting insistence

Knock, knock,
Whose there?
It's me, you ******* idiot,
who did you think it was?