Night defeats the sun
    and hangs its pale imposter
    in its own sky
    to wax and wane
    and woo young lovers
    under the boardwalk.

    Monsters hide under beds
    while skeletons fill closets
    and life gets lived always
    hanging in the balance.
    Dawn beats back the dark and
    makes us live another day.

Your beautiful corpse reminds me
of the kindest lovers I abandoned.
You're still Anne from death by gas.
Hair and makeup perfect after all.
Your poetry had you rowing out to sea
to die in saltwater ugly and shriveled.
You could never sacrifice your beauty
even for commitment to fierce suicide.

Empire Builders

They sit on couches with the Mrs.
watching TV and planning tomorrows
thousand chess moves to dominate the
market and destroy their competition.

I've got no time for your suffering.
I've got no time for your struggles.
No time for your ugly riots and fires.
I pour the gas and set myself in flames.

We've all gone crazy lately.
I don't wear a tie or cut my hair.
I smoked some hash and lost my
mind a little bit. Save me from
a world I don't recognize anymore.
I dress like a clown and eat drugs
to keep me up and down and level.
Friends are straight or hippies each
seeking their very own Nirvana and
I walk a tightrope above insanity.

I wanted to make you proud.
Your first born boy namesake.
March 23,1949. You were back
from war nerves on edge and
work was scarce and you kept
exploding in rage and we all
vibrated with fear and felt
your pain and war's hell and
pitied and loved you always.
Mom closed the windows in
summer so the neighbors
wouldn't hear and we went
to our rooms and mastered
the art of disappearing.

Life's a lucky penny found then lost
in life's day to day mayhem of death.
Hashtag all you want. Protest and riot.
History has taught us no lives matter.
Wars waste it. Plague turns it black and
the stench fills the streets. Hunger won't
feed it and it dies on its own vine. Life
kills itself. It's fool's gold after all.

We drink stale coffee and eat
stale doughnuts and chant
stale prayers and stale hope.
12 steps are our savior.
Find your own way out.
Behavior modification works.