Light this up real quick lighter
****** hear Sage and they go insane
Who's to blame
Lonely soul just a name you can't detain this brain
Scandalous
Triple six what the **** is sane?
Seeing kittens without the ******* haze
Stroke game long and fast that's Usain
Can't hear you over your girls moans, what the ******* saying?
Super lubin
Leaving all you spoofs
Stupid ****** leave me drooling on the stool
So above to even fall for these hoes cause they come and go like my sadness that makes me feel like a ghost
Too legit to even roast on my foes
Thoughts of overdose
But I can't die cause I am the Goat
Dismiss the dope
Very cynical
Self heal without the clinical
I've been there
I wish it was that easy but it was too difficult
Get it from the back and yo girl in fear
Always teased for being weird
Changing routes like I'm swerving the steer
Off some xanax and all the *** isn't pleasing my emotion to disappear into what's really real
That's death and thats what make you ****** squeal
Ruthless, heart of steel
All I see is snakes when I walk the halls
Down to ball
Never for a *****, money and nothing else
Helps me dwell
Living well trapped in this mental cell
214 ***** where I learned to be myself
Live to excel and to focus on my wealth
Dumb ****** live to flaunt what they cant even cop
Your girl pop lock and drop on this 7inch ****
Dumb ****** get socked up in this world like if their throats clogged
****** sour lime
These acts so undefined
Yo girl kinda fine my girl a ******* dime
The truth I'll help you find
In time we'll be divine and our hearts won't divide
I swear these ******* flinch when I leave em cause the sticky getting to the *******
Up on a podium on some potent
I told myself I'd quit cause I'm just a student
Bish yo man got them moobies
Bish I'm on yo girls mental movies
Bish we smokin some doubies
Bish we making moves
Bish keep up with the groove
Bish yo girl got them cooties
Bish you acting pretty goofy
***** not into materialism but this **** is Gucci
Bish we trip on some lucy
Takes me a minute to make yo girl juicy
Nosey ****** boogie
Bish I'm genius but I'm still pretty gloomy

My cat goes MEOW
Expecting food
Runs around the yard
Catching mice
Gives us allergic reactions
Gets cranky in stormy weather
MEOW MEOW MEOW
The cat goes meow
What is his favourite food
Whiskas
Fancy feast
Snappy Tom
The cats of Australia
Have made their choice
Snappy Tom oh snappy Tom
MEOW MEOW MEOW
MEOW MEOW MEOW
MEOW MEOW MEOW
Says the mother cat
Who just gave birth to 7 little kittens
Butch
Brutus
Sooty
Lucky
Snoopy
Cuddles
Jade
MEOW MEOW MEOW
Enjoy your food
Little ***** cat


Sent from my iPhone

Service to others is the
rent you pay for your
room here on earth.
—Muhammad Ali

She talks of change, of
Back to neighborhoods
Which were comfortable.

Of underground parking,
Of walkable, convenient
Distances to work.

Oh, how nice to wish
For change, to want to
Go forward by backing up.

Or, to make sense from
It, plunge right in and
Join the dance.

I dread the thought of
Driving for fear of putting
My foot on the wrong pedal.

As a perfectly flawed man,
I live alone with a cat and
Shelves hosting 6K books.

Should she change?  Must
I?  Which of us has the
More restless heart?

Life is for living, it is
Said, so perhaps we can
Stick it out for a year.

Stick it out until you can
Prove that love is not a
Swollen mass of flesh.


Or change, change, and
Pretend you are different
From a new car in the driveway.

Or another K of paperbacks,
Or a new litter of kittens
Grazing in the kitchen.

If you change, hide all the
Evidence and be humble
As the crippled or the blind.

Share your legacy before
Someone else interprets
It for you.

And live every day slowly
While looking in the mirror
Saying “Progress, not perfection.”


© Lewis Bosworth, 2016

i have a little kitten he has a plastic mouse
he throws in the air and all around the house
takes  it up the stairs and puts in the bath
brings the mouse back down again this it makes me laugh
then when his playings done he takes his mouse to bed
cuddles up beside it  to  rest his tired head

In the pet store
My granddaughter squealing
Reaching out her tiny hand
Fingers delicately touching
Soft white and gray fur
Blue eyes staring
Crystalline clear
Weighing her every move
She, ooh’ing and aah’ing
Unaware…

Memory flashing
Hot as a gun blast
Lines of pain creeping
Over my face
Burlap bags of
Flickering motion
Gurgling sounds
Beneath wet stones
My sisters and I
Wading in the creek
Searching for minnows
Stumbling onto
Their watery graves…
My grandfather’s solution
To the newest litter of kittens

If I said my heart was a cyanide laced pomegranate,
would that make its expressions any less ******?
If I said falling in love was like throwing yourself off a cliff on a winter night and drowning yourself tumbling through the air blind like a bag of kittens, but I was quoting Kierkegaard,
would that make it any less of an awkward melodrama?
If I told you the western blocks blind attacks on the other,
kinda resembled Freud's account of the mother
of a miscarriages melancholia,
is that a condoning or a condemnation?
if I translated every meta-narrative of class relation, oppression, wage slavery, state violence, suppression,
into anthropomorphic allegories for a myriad of psychological phenomena,
would I be an academic or a shinto miko?
[and would the world be any better?]
if I superimposed on the geographical topology,
the political and then the existential,
would I have a sandwich?
Or a lasagne?

You may be wanting from me
Something profound
Some great masterpiece
Something that demands awe
And expands your mind

Something so wonderful
That The Thinker
Will have something to
Ponder on forever
In his ageless, stoic, iron pose
Wondering of its great depth
And wisdom!

But to heck with that!

I want to write of fluff
And all that stuff
Something of bubblegum *****
And unicorn dreams
Something of kittens
Doing summersaults
Something of polka dots
On Dalmations

I don't want to solve
The worlds problems!
I don't want to be a
A nobel laureate!

I want to write of fluff
And all that stuff
Of honey dripping
Off the sugar trees
Of the moon
Made out of cheese
I'll solve the world's problems
Another time!
For now allow me
That fantasy!

The Savior

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
On her birthing day
Her heart had almost stopped
Her lungs breathed almost not
And Death carried her throughout the hospital that day.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
On her fifth birthday
Pig tails up
She’d gotten stuck
In the branches of their tree,
Hanging with the leaves
She would choke before she would land
And Death had cradled her within his hands.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
On her fourth grade field trip
They’d hiked up a mountain
Some kids pushed her down and
Tumbling she hit her head and broke bones.
Death had pulled her close and whispered she needed to go home.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
The summer after freshman year
She’d gone swimming down by the pier
When she’d cramped underwater
And her lungs were unsure
Death had hoisted her ashore.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
A fortnight before her 21st birthday
She’d gone to a party, people were all getting laid.
He’d given her a drink
Soon after she’d thrown up in the sink.
He seemed awful sweet
Pulling her into the room to lie down.
Until he started pulling her pants down
She wanted to scream but he covered her mouth
Instead of screams she squeaked like a mouse.
He pulled out a knife
Threatened her life
And had his way with her.
Pressing the knife against her throat
She soon began to gasp and choke.
Death comforted her until it was all over.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
On Christmas Eve
Just turned 25
She was dead inside.
That boy from before
Who called her a *****
Had been calling her his
She’d cried every night begging for future bliss.
That night he’d burst in
Drunk and full of sin
Throwing her down to the floor
She begged for no more
And he called her a *****
Before throwing her out into the snow
Death pulled her out from sinking below.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
While working inside
Someone drove by
Everyone was tongue tied
As they shot right through the glass
Bullets flying past.
She felt it before she saw it
She knew she’d been hit
Ironically by a .30
She begged to live she still had things to do and say
Death had blocked the bullet that day.

There once was a girl
Who visited Death
6 months after 35
Working up until midnight
Furiously typing away
Someone snuck around wanting to play
Just escaped prison
Wanting some fun
Knock out then knock up
But she had her luck
And attacked till he couldn’t move
She’d started to push and shove
But he took the gun
And shot her in the stomach
Hoping she’d bleed out
She ran till she collapsed to the ground
Death stayed until she was found

The Spectator

There once was a girl
Who saw Death
Watched him close that kittens eyes
As it let out its final mew and he let out a sigh.
Cradling it’s soul in the palm of his hand
He sent it on it’s way, to it’s promised land.
She worried about her life
In her 40th year and her 40th night
Was she going to die?
A far fetched idea
But then how could she see Death within the crowd of people?
She turned back again
But Death had disappeared to the oblivion.

There once was a girl
Who saw Death
Hold her sisters hand.
So in her final moments she wouldn’t be sad.
She felt sorrow in his eyes
As he glanced away to the side.
She watched as he drained her life
And sent her to her afterlife.
Her sister was 10 years older
And at 55 her sisters life was over.

There once was a girl
Who saw Death
On her 50th birthday
She wasn’t sure if she should be happy or scared
But at least someone remembered, someone cared
She stood there gazing at the gift
50 dried up roses laying in the mist.
She gathered them together
And put them in a vase on her dresser.

There once was a girl
Who saw Death
Walking around a graveyard
As though he was a guard.
Protecting each of those who had passed
Appalled at what he had amassed.
At 55
She realized death wasn’t stealing lives.

The Speaker

There once was a girl
Who spoke to Death
5 years after she’d forgiven him
The sun had begun to descend and dim
She posed a question
“Do you come here often?”
He replied “Only with the one i love.”

There once was a girl
Who spoke to Death
Being 65 was hard
She was scarred and marred and starred
“Does everyone look like this at my age?”
“Only the ones who love instead of hate.”

There once was a girl
Who spoke to Death
“Do you know when I’m going to die?”
“You mean when you’ll say goodbye?
70 is just an illusion in your mind.
But yes, would you like to know?”
“No I’d rather leave it alone.
I’ll just live to the fullest each day.”
“I figured that’s what you were going to say.”

There was once a girl
Who spoke to Death
“I turned 75 today.”
“I know, you complained it was too bright so i made the Sun go away.”
“How long do i have left?”
His response was swift and deft
“That depends on if you live it to the fullest.”

The Survivor

There once was a girl
Who fell in love with Death
He had helped her
Whenever she began to hurt.
He brought her gifts
When her heart was amiss.
At 80 she realized
That for decades she had agonized.
When her love was right there
Brushing her hair.
She reached up and grabbed his bony fingers
She spoke softly but the words still lingered.

The Stagnant

There once was a girl
Who Death was in love with
He’d been there for her whole life
Harming any who gave her strife.
She was what he looked forward to
When he was feeling hated for what he had to do.
So when she turned 85
He had no reason to lie.
He told her calmly and clearly
That he held her very dearly.
And that today was the day she’d pass
But he would wait, so the day would last
But when time came, he held her tight
Knowing she wouldn’t put up a fight.
In her last fleeting moments he told her a secret
Because he knew he no longer had to keep it.
And so, softly he whispered in her ear
The very same words she’d meant for him to hear.

Laying in the land of lies.
Kissing broken butterflies
Knows what she wants.
A tigress on the prowl.

Howling and squawking.
Howling and scowling.
Pawing, cat calling.
Pussycat growling.

Love laid roses on the path.
Tangled thorns and demon horns.
Thought she'd have a laugh.
Love she chooses lonely pawns.

Howling and squawking,
Howling and scowling
Pawing,cat calling.
Pussycat growling.

She snatches sweethearts.
Creating works of art.
Living on cupcakes.
Cementing works of art.
Breaking hearts and crushing bones.

Howling and squawking.
Howling and scowling.
Pawing, cat calling.
Pussycat growling.

Fingertips tips as razor blades.
Razor blades are on the ****.
Love dies screaming silently.
At wicked women's will.
Said goodbye.

Howling and squawking
No more talking.
Pussycat cat cuddles.
Snuggles and kittens.
(C) LIVVI

really how my best friend
besides my two cats
five kittens and a Labrador stray
that bounces up and down when I return
may be poetry
and Hello
I just realized that!

Babies dancing with Beyonce,
Puppies and kittens oh so cute
Idiots setting their hair on fire
A man beheaded by a brute.

All of these are shown on YouTube
Lots of it is purely fun
But always there is the dark side
The realm of hate, the bomb and gun.

Two sides of the human psyche
Complete opposites hawk and dove
One side shows hope for a future
Where hate does not transcend love.

The other side has unfortunately
Made fear and hate its main tool
The age old tactic used for millennia
The trick is to simply divide and rule.

Tom Higgins.

Just Can't Have
pretty face
can't erase
**** and smart
plenty of heart
smooth skin
very thin
got it all
not very tall
juicy lips
shaky hips
what a smile
its been awhile
****** confession
tasty concession
never had before
must see more
whipped cream
*******
just can't have
divided in halve
love her
kittens purr
got caught stalking
no more talking

It was Christmas Eve, a Thursday
On the Northern Express Christmas Train
We were on our way north through the wilds
And our  destination was to be old Hornepayne

One hundred and eighty two people
Three kittens, one goat and nine dogs
Were riding up north on the railroad
Oh, I forgot to mention six hogs

There was snow coming in from the waters
Surrounding the bays, both Hudson and James
The engineer was prepared for a whopper
This would not be a time to play games

It was nineteen twenty in the year of our lord
The great war had been done for two years
These people were travelling homeward
To spend Christmas with those they held dear

The storm was gathering force over water
There was no way to safely arrive
They only had one option before them
If he wanted them all to survive

He pulled the train off on a side spur
They were not getting home safe tonight
But, the train, being old wasn't worthy
Of surviving the storm and it's fight

The conductor gathered up  all his courage
And he entered each car in their turn
He said "It looks like we're here for a while"
The storm looked real bad, as they'd learn

Remember it was nineteen twenty
The trains had no heat to keep warm
There was just an old stove and the engine
To keep them alive in the storm

The lines were down, so no message
Could be sent via morse code machine
They were stuck in the Ontario wilds
In a storm worse than they'd ever seen

They prayed and they sang hymns all together
Christmas carols and some all would know
As they sat, and they watched out the window
At the wind whipping, white sheets of snow

It was just after four when it started
Six hours in it was worse
One man, a fellow named Woolner
Said "we're stuck on a CP rail hearse"

The children were kept calm by their mothers
The men were watching as well
They were keeping an eye on the weather
They would not die in this frozen hell

It was just before midnight I reckon
When the storm broke enough to see out
The snow was now done and was over
Of this there was surely no doubt

Christmas Day...it was now after midnight
Some were sleeping while others were not
They had left to go start a fire
This was an idea given plenty of thought

The people awoke and they followed
To the fire to keep warm and still pray
They would make the best of a bad situation
Don't forget it was still Christmas Day

Christmas happens, it doesn't pick a location
It doesn't give a **** where you are
Christmas happens, and it gives a feeling
Of goodness, whether you're close or home is quite far

These people all stuck in the forest
Still a day or so from where they would go
Spent a Christmas with a whole bunch of strangers
some dogs, cats and hogs and a goat

Gifts that were destined for family
Were opened that night by the crowd
And the carols they sang in the forest
Shook the snow, they were singing so loud

The trees were lit up by the fire
Snow was covering branches up high
When they looked up into the dark heavens
And they saw the bright lights in the sky

The rainbow of colours was awesome
It shone brighter than bright in the sky
But one thing stood out in the distance
The one star that shone bright from on high

What was it that brought them together
Made them share this Christmas as one
Was it the storm that was the only reason
Or was there something else there that had come

The word came on out from the engine
The lines of communication were back
They should all get on back to their carriage
And he'd get this train back on track

When they all climbed aboard to get moving
Every seat had a package, all wrapped
No one saw who delivered the presents
As they were all in this outland, and trapped

Was it Santa come through to deliver
Their presents while they all went to pray
It's a question that no one can answer
It's a puzzle that remains to this day

If you ever go north on the railway
And you pass by the park near Hornepayne
Remember the big storm they encountered
And the magic on the Christmas Train

Tired eyed
But so excited to be here
Kissing in a parking lot
Like you promised
Over the phone
Sleeping in shifts
Playing video games
And exploding kittens
Until the sun rises
Braiding your hair
Into a woven crown
A pile of snakes atop your head
Curled up under my duvet
Listening to the rain
Pound on the ceiling
Listening to my heart
Pound on my skin
Drowning
In my old leather jacket
Your shining face flecked with mud
From a long wait
That has never been more worth it

Baby I need a ride
down the highway leading to nowhere
go fast my sweet baby
close your eyes, put the pedal to the metal

Go real fast baby
lets smash our way into oblivion
lets stop time
hold our futures never blind

Let's ripe the fabric of space
stride the stars again like lords
let's play with history
as if we had never gone

Let's be white kittens in snow
never cold for we have that inner glow
let's dance in uniforms of green
and cry to the sound of the guns

Lets go supernova
burn like dying stars
let us divulge our knowing
in the empire of emeralds



By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)

bless this restlessness
as it is success
but a mess none the less
I confess
when wearing a dress
there is no guess
just bad press and distress
impressed?
the need for rest seems
incessant and persistent
yet I remain resistant
by playing an instrument,
one reminiscent of distant
enlisted men
transitioning
to some sort of agricultural
based life of subsistence
subservient serfdom
on poor farms in Tennessee
with plenty of hens running free
and a still out back brewing grain whiskey
frisky miss’s with pesky kittens
rub dainty mittens
smitten with ripping the
cotton-topped children’s
collars and slipping dollars to poor
babies fathers
while bothering loggers
robbing old codgers –

Don't be afraid to be a mammal,
designed to laze.
Learn a lesson from the kittens,
eat, sleep, play.
Shame has no place
saying the day was a waste.
Society pushes productivity,
filling every second with money-making,
side jobs, schemes.
Take a seat society,
let us dream nonsense dreams.
Let us use time to sit back,
soak in the sun,
and smile.

all my stop signs
     are draped with pearl necklaces
and my headlights
     caress wounded kittens
i am the dunce
     carusading thru the blues
the moon is emblazoned
     with indignation over
crowds of unemployed people

(nodody notices the white elephant)
     stealing
the hacksaw, the cookies, and all the money
     i saved for a haircut
all in all, a ***** is
     hitchhiking toward a pontiac
in the desperate desert sun
     counting
his thumbs with a switchblade


"anything temporary can be used for money reasons"

LIFE IS SHORT
AND WE'RE A LONG TIME DEAD
Whether we are riding a unicorn
Across a rainbow
While the wind blows majestically
Our lustrous eye haloed by seagulls
We may act and act
Like we are tall
And our finger nails have
A big heart of their own
We may play kittens or puppies
And get excited about plastic bones
We may get lost in the grammar constructions and commas of sunset
In and out of our comfort zone
We may want to belong to two life clubs
And finish a movie every seven ten days
Always up for subtitles
Be it old sci fi 30's 40's 50's 60's noir war
We may try with a pair of scissors or a broom
To put death sleeping in socks  and plan ahead endless possibilities of karma
If we're wildly in love with life
And understand that life isn't a pie
That being in life isn't a sport
And that faith on life is a little like a full time job
But that death is like a hook living just around the corner whom we share
With the same post code.
Life is short, life is petite
Life is a ******, a dwarf, a suckling
Life is fast as a snap of our fingers
Life is a bait, a worm
Life is sparks
And we're a long time dead
So let's fish capers and mangoes
In and out the apparences
In and out the distance
While the harvest season is booming
Up there in the blooming volcanoes of sunset.

An Irish couple buy some fertilised duck eggs and they hatch.
But then they’re missing!
The cat is licking her lips.
Oh No!
They follow the cat to her snug in the barn.
She too has given birth.
Snuggled beneath the cat’s protective paws
Are suckling kittens and DUCKLINGS!

Had those dear ducklings hatched an hour earlier
Or later
They would have been cat food.
But around the birthing time Missus Cat was only a Mother,
Mothering anything that moved.

Mother Nature breeds such Motherly instincts.
A thing of Wonder.
A story that happens to be True.

Since then those ducks grew up
But still followed their “Mother”
Everywhere she went (within reason).
An unshakeable bond,
Lasting for ever.

Paul Butters

Some say,
laughter is the
best medicine.
While I have
found that to
be true, it's
become so
cliche.
An axiom I now
live by is that
mushrooms are
the best medicine.
Perception's door opens
wide, and my jaw aches
with laughter.
I can taste blue and
green, and hear
tulips sing lovely
ballads for the
squirrels that have
forgotten where they
buried their nuts.
I train my poems like
circus bears.
They rarely maul me.
And, just between
you and me,
The Birth of
Venus painting that
hangs above my
writing desk vibrates and
pulsates like the
Gulf of Mexico.
That red headed
temptress dances
seductively, long into
the night.
And now,
my kittens think
it's funny to
meow backwards.

within, or rather in between, whomsoever was present.
like a good party crasher, he becomes the life of the party,
joking, dancing, womanizing (the sun so very much a man!)
singing his anthems, commencing with “Here Comes the Sun,” followed by every other  sun~song known to the celestials, concluding near around 4:00AM  with his rendition of Garth Brook’s classic:

”Ain't going down 'til the sun comes up
Ain't givin' in 'til they get enough
Going 'round the world in a pickup truck
Ain't goin' down 'til the sun comes up”

the ladies, especially Venus, all quite smitten, purring like kittens,
took that as a personal invite-ta-tion, and I swear that night many
comets were created.

If you feeling a surprising heating
in your bed tonight,
don’t be afraid,
it’s just me feeling sunny...


7/17/20

Hello Pop,
You said you liked a good story.
I'm no good at tellen stories, coz you were always the one that told'em and I was always the one that listened but,
I got one now.

Not a nice one.
None'a that feel good **** you see on TV.
But, it's a story
and I owe you one.

It's about you,
the bits you missed,
and me:
the not so good for a so called 'good kid'.
Not that many called me that
But,
then you went and did.

Made me think I couldn't be so bad.

Yet here I am.

Throwin stone's when I've got no one to hit.
Too bored to eat or sleep, just fucken spit.
Wishen that great god gave me someone to hit.

I'm a sick girl, ya know.
That's what they tell me.

Sick compared to those straight kids -
the pride of Glory Spring.
"Glory to God!" they all fucken sing
and even me who can’t speak good
can still recite that invisible,
unbearable
ditsy
dimpled
****.
He was your favourite story and everyone elses, after all.
Vicar Roy made sure of that.

Vicar Roy.
With his crinkly eyes
his toothy grin
the way he wouldn't blink when you challenged him.
God while god was hiding from the mess he made,
but God was doin’ nothen for me.
Ma saw that before you could.
She wanted me out,
She wanted me taken to a real city so they could study my head,
the way it worked.
The way my words never came
just a crooked grin.
But, even when the crayons became weapons
and the kittens went missen
The Vicar went and blessed me the same way.

Glory Spring, with its neat little rows of cottages and cabbage gardens,
so evenly cut.
Soft colours,
bright greens.
So good,
good,
good.
Then I came along.
Rabid,
urban wild
itchen for a stomach slit
goin' "Guts for you"
after "Treat or trick?"
setten haystacks on fire
tryen to find the pin
only to drop it on purpose.

Are you scared of me, Pa?
I think even God is scared of what he created.
That's why we never see him,
but I'm here now Pa.
You can't hide from me
and I gotta story of why you don't gotta no more.

why did you go
little fourpaws?
you forgot to shut
your big eyes.

where did you go?
like little kittens
are all the leaves
which open in the rain.

little kittens who
are called spring,
is what we stroke
maybe asleep?

do you know?or maybe did
something go away
ever so quietly
when we weren’t looking.

Perhaps I’m insane,
It wouldn’t be the first time someone would think that,
He thinks that I am,,
Cat lady in training

But little does he know,

I have a secret,
A light hidden,
Yes, hidden in my soul.

There, words flow freely,
It’s deeper than anything that he could comprehend,
Couldn’t even wrap his head around it,

His soul is new and naive,
Mine is antique,
Wiser,
Stronger,

He is muscular
Physically stronger,
I am feminine,
Softer,
but yet I am still 3 times the man he is inside.

So walk along boy,
Boy,
thats what you are,
Because a real man would see this light,
This gift.
See my worth.

Shoo fly,
Go on back to your cavalcade of short skirted, high heeled kittens,
Where looks alone makes your world go round.

Your soul will always just be on the surface....

First came the false presumptions of luxury
The gaudy glamour
Bright dresses and dark suits
Awkward glances and ****** food
Eventually though
The evening settled down
And then, after the smoking and drinking
Came 1 o'clock, the worn-out end of a hazy day

Suddenly,
It was a smother of time,
a stifling landscape of clocks
a decaying of darkness
The night gave way to trembling cold delirium
And slow and slow down
A slide from reality
Everything fell

I remember barely a glimmer- a hand, an arm, red sheets somewhere
Eyes that whispered "what's wrong with her? what's her deal?"
Or worse yet, faces that didn't care
To see me, my wrists
Appalling in all their shivering shaken chill dust
In moments like this,
I am nothing but a fearful machine
Broken in its deepest workings,
All function altered.

Clamors and tremors of panic
Withered illusions gathered at my feet like kittens
I tossed the blanket from the makeshift bed
Lay upon my back and waited
Watched, frightened, the night revealing
The hundred ignoble, vile images
Of which my thoughts seems consisted of

They flickered at bit- against the burgundy hammock
And empty Baccardi bottles
2 o'clock shook the memory
A crowd of twisted things,
Torn and stained and coiling about my wrists
I move by the sway of these thoughts that are curled around me
-The notion of some infinitely suffering thing

Oh I only need a lighthouse
To guide my soon-to-be shipwreck home
I only need a compass, a crucifix, a presence
But never
never to be found
the way

I have a dream of a house full of cats and more outside
there will be plenty of black ones and lots of kittens and all will be street cats
given a new chance at life.  And there will be adoptions and trap, neuter, return for the ferels
and a low cost spay and neuter clinic close by to everyone in need and I will be
surrounded by cats, little beautiful creatures living out there lives near me
and there will be a cat's house in Haifa, and children and their families will
comes and learn about these animals and how to take care of them and not abuse
and surrounded by cats and infused with education, people will learn to be
what they can be, gentle, good and kind to the voiceless little survivors