My wife said write a love poem
So that's what I will do
Someone said that roses are red
Or was it violets are blue?

Oh well, you understand my meaning
You know what I'm trying to say
Your eyes are like a pickled beet
So stop looking at me that way

Your kiss is like a bathroom plunger
Each time you **** my face
Your smile looks like a circus clown
That came from outer space

Your breath smells like an armpit
That brings me to my knees
Your hair is like a brillo pad
As stiff as a summer breeze

Your voice is like a banshee in heat
My wife say's, "That's Enough!!!"
I tried to tell her I don't know how
To write this mushy stuff

just like everyone else
sometimes the dark rock
seems too hard to handle
but i don't think
my shoes are much cleaner
or even dirtier
than yours
your shoes might be
a bit bigger
or smaller
or have more holes

but in the end
our soles
are usually worn
in the shape of a foot
walking through
glass and flowers
everyday

I stand and watch the garbage man
As he grabs them
Something catches my attention
I watch my mother throw away
The lamps my father gave her.
Black metal with glass panels
Taken out.
They move one
And I turn back inside

"I believe in family curses."
She says.
Could this be ours?
As I hold my love, I wonder
Ponder
On how similar our relationship
Is starting to look
To theirs.

"You wanted to lose something you've loved for 99% of your life."
He tells her.
Could this possibly
Be my soul desire as well?
Or am I just caught
In the energy?

"Some kids want to fix their relationship
With their 'bad' parent
That's why they look for them
As partners."
Am I stuck in this hidden mind frame?
What if I oppose it?
People like my father
Cannot be changed.
But then again
Neither can you.

"I am nothing like him."
You command me.
The anger flows out of your eyes.
I no longer tell you this
Because it makes you angry
Just like her
Hiding things from him

So I quietly hold you
And wonder
If someday I will be
Throwing out the lamps
You have given me.

Make up your mind,
use your own device
See with your eyes
Uncover what other things
they've blinded
Like with religion
they try to keep it hidden

Reveal the secret

Are these drugs really doing bad
     Or are they good?
Haven't you seen the smile on my face
Have you not heard my song?

It was deep April, and the morn
Shakespeare was born;
The world was on us, pressing sore;
My love and I took hands and swore,
Against the world, to be
Poets and lovers evermore,
To laugh and dream on Lethe's shore,
To sing to Charon in his boat,
Heartening the timid souls afloat;
Of judgement never to take heed,
But to those fast-locked souls to speed,
Who never from Apollo fled,
Who spent no hour among the dead;
Continually
With them to dwell,
Indifferent to heaven and hell.

you had birds in your mouth and sunlight dripping from your eyelashes.
i promised i wouldn't speak if you wouldn't change faces twice an hour.
we made conversation under a tree and sleep-walked through your kitchen.
i couldn't stare for your poetry disguised as fingers, always moved your hands.

i opened your window and slid to the street, took a walk with the recycling.
my hands looked tired the next morning, and you wouldn't take no.
when the lights fell asleep, we ran for the boats and slipped into the water.
the moon smiled and pulled us apart, i never matched your shoes again.