rather than check
the forecast
for some reason
i think it enough
to merely
look to the sky
for a cursory
ten or so seconds
to observe the drifting
of weighty clouds
the overwhelming of
any strokes of blue
that might remain
being diminished
by the shifting greys
of approaching rain
before surmising
whether or not
a coat or umbrella
might be needed
at some point
in the coming hours

The weather man said that today's forecast is going to be cloudy and grey
Never did he mention that you would be walking my way
I wish I would have known because I'm not too presentable in this sweat suit
It's raining plus it's a little warm so I began to sweat too
When I saw you ,
I got nervous trying to think of the right words to say and never disrespect you
"Would you like to share my umbrella it's the least I can do"
My lips were shaking in fear of rejection but I knew my obsession of staying to myself will leave me and my cold pillow plenty of time to bond on nights like this
The rain was pouring down
She didn't have an umbrella and it looked as if I switched her entire day around    
Her smile cleared the skies but down went my eyes because I had no excuse to walk with her
I was so nervous my hands began to tremble I was too afraid to talk with her
She said that I was sweet but I got the wrong idea because I reached out for her hand , but in the same soft voice she used to call me sweet she explained to me about her man ... The weather man didn't warn me  
He could have told me about the flash floods that followed the clear sky
I didn't see it coming
I feel like a car just breezed by and splashed up a puddle all over me
A shower can take the dirt off the surface and put a smile on my face the only problem is some of it got inside my skin and is irritating a problem that I've been trying to embrace
I'm still alone

Monster snowstorm Meteorologist have warned
But when you have faith you don’t be alarmed
Yet this snowstorm is going to be for the record books
All a person has to do is just look
Like a typewriter keyboard going up the ladder
But in this case it is the Northeast with the matter
If the snowstorm piles up as much as Meteorologist predict, the snow will be around long and will certainly be icy and thick
Transportation will definitely shutdown
There will be no way too get around
Everyone will be stationery in homeward bound
It will television and cell phones with snowstorm updates
Then a mission to work or wait
There is no guarantee
It is a matter of wait and see
The snowstorm provided by thee
Man can’t defeat and tell the snow too stop
It’s all controlled from the almighty being at the top
The Sanitation Department will be doing their job in clearing the snow away
However it won’t be gone all in one day
This could be a snowstorm bringing snow that could last for days
Don’t even think on taking a plane being a getaway
It will be the wintry frozen ice that will stay
The best advice that I could give is to think of the season spring
Mild with warm hearts in getting through the snow in helping you preserver
Don’t think on fear
As God is always near
A snowstorm is God’s way in purifying the earth
I remember being taught that at birth
But think on doing things at home being fun
Always remember, weather conditions you have no control and God will always be the centered number of one.

you always were fascinated by
the storm clouds
that danced solely above your head,
and the lightning that
touched ground in your mind,
but considered a
silver-lining
a phenomenon

Days like this, clouds twist
round languid trysts and linger
through each billow -
how a breath of smoke forms shadows
or a swarm of midges gather -
growing tangible as tuffets
of pubescent body hair.

If I had studied clouds
and all their undercurrent slip
streams, then my memories
might emulate
their dissipating shrouds.

Expect earthquakes, volcano eruptions and tornadoes. You don't have to be a meteorologist to know that the climate has already changed. The layers of the atmosphere are re-arranging. People still seem worried about property value and other things that will seem like nothing to them soon. This isn't conspiracy theory *******. This is energy, and how it works. Electro-magnetic energy is king.

I met my neighbor today.
Well, he's not my neighbor yet,
but he will be when I'm forty-two
and have that burgundy four-door.
He'll have two kids by then,
one from a previous marriage;
loud mouth little *****,
always reminding his step-mother
that his real mom wouldn't stand for
what she wants to call discipline.
I should really remind his dad to return
my rototiller when I see him next.
-
The meteorologist called for sleet
and I still don't see any ****** sleet.
I walked to the fuel station and got a fountain soda;
I counted six stray cats on the way back.
One of them used to belong to a woman
by the name of Jamila who moved back to Atlanta
in July of last summer.
The cat never liked to come to her,
so it stayed behind to chart star patterns.
Sometimes, when no one is out on the street,
the cats meet in alleyways to gossip
about the state of affairs in the soy city.
-
I buried seven heads-up pennies
underneath the yield sign on Union street
last Wednesday, I believe it was.
I'm still waiting on a reply,
but Mr. Cuttlefish isn't known for his punctuality.
No one is around here;
it's bad for your health if everyone knows where
and when you'll be.
They say one of the neighbor kids
found a piece of amber the size of a plum
in a box of Rice Chex from the corner market.
I knew someone would find it eventually.
-
Every umpteenth sidewalk slab has an "X" engraved
in the top, right-hand corner.
It signifies a meeting zone, and if you wait their long enough
I can probably convince one of the
silver men from the condemned apartment building
to let me borrow their aural symphonizer
so I can finally see what it's like
to extract one while it is still alive and roily.
It wont be too long of a wait,
as the men are always brief with conversation
and always seem to blink and breathe
at the exact same time I do.

Meteorologist had been predicting that Hurricane Harvey would hit the landfall of Texas shore
It’s a reality storm no one should ignore
Mighty winds and heavy rain hitting the Texas land
Warnings upon warnings being active in demand
Some people decided to remain in their homes
But during the storm no one will be able to roam
Now Hurricane Harvey could last for days
The two words of the day, “HOME STAY”
Hurricane Harvey has winds of 130 miles per hour
Now that is along of power
Hurricane Harvey is a strong alert
It offers no perk
Homes are being destroyed
The hurricane is treating homes and fixtures as if they were toys
This storm is no joy
How Great Thou Are comes to mind
Rain, Wind and Tornados all combined
A message to Texas and the world to kneel and pray
This is Heaven ‘s communication being their relay
My heart goes out to the citizens of Texas
I pray and hope the people survive
Trust in God and that is what will keep them alive
God’s amaze in what he gives
As Hurricane Harvey conquers on
My advice to the Texas citizens is to remain strong
Stick together in fellowship is what I am talking about
Sooner or later Hurricane Harvey will move out.

I hope you won’t mind being an architect.
I learned a long time ago that it
will take more than just a little
Krazy glue to put my pieces
back together.

I hope you won’t mind being a pilot.
I was never very
fond of heights
but I have a talent for
falling too fast and too hard.

I hope you won’t mind being an astronomer.
It will take someone
with a lot of wonder
to trace the constellations
scattered across my body.
Sorry in advance –
I connected some of the dots already.

I hope you won’t mind being a meteorologist.
One who isn’t
afraid to don a raincoat and boots
and stand in the storm to say,
“Expect some passing showers
but watch for the sun and
wait for the clouds to clear.”

I hope you won’t mind being you.
As long as you won’t mind me being me.

The exterior is thick with humidity,
damp with rain,
and I’ll never experience fever like this again.

My body is being taken
(through the wind of a thousand hurricanes)
to a building with no climate;
I will be my own meteorologist,
forecasting eroded rocks and failures,
and seldom I might discover a window to peer out of.

Squinting,
I could catch the stories –
those of capability, disability, and susceptibility –
my willowed reflection screams.

And, though I will always have my wrinkled palms,
they will never hold the weather.

Fly you fool
People only get older
And poetry doesn't always need to rhyme
Life hands you lemons
But my tequila requires limes

What's the recipe for ice?
Can't see with 20/20 vision eyes
Fighting for a far off cause
And Santa Clause

Whatchamacallits
And compost heaps
Michigan to Denver
Face down in the mud
The baker helps me up
He's up at 2 AM
To hand out yesterdays left overs to the hobos and bums

Elliot Ness and Pat Garrett are on the trail
But The Iceman is watching patiently in his quiet suburb to emerge and bathe himself in their agony and his compensation

Hush puppies and truffle fries
Go-carts zooming through the race riots

Stomp
Tap
Snap
Clap
And sing along around the wishing well
Across the universe
Along the watchtower
With the brooding troubadour

The truth is ugly
Unless it sugarcoats itself with a false foundation and misleading mascara  

The burning bush spits out orders like ticker tape

I reckon its witchcraft
Either that
Or vertigo and dream piercing alarm clocks
Snooze

I AM VICE PRESIDENT AGNEW
Take it all away

The air is polluted with "love"
Or self-satisfaction disguised as love

More often than not
Almost always
I want you
Just you

I use geometry to calculate all these feelings
In summation, I'm insane but not as insane as you for loving me

Fractured my scaphoid
Now I'm paranoid of curbs and confrontation

I board the drunken ship
And circle Pangaea

We don't need a meteorologist to tell us the wind is with us, on our side
As we float on to the next one

My optometrist from Minnesota calls me and tells me my state of the art x-ray specs are in

I pulled something in my back, slipped a disk

Gentlemen, I take my leave  

I've been the liar
The actor
The martyr
The scribe
The one under the microscope hating every second
The one on the wanted poster

I can take your boos
I can guzzle your *****
Then clog your toilet
And walk away clean

Satan checks my blood pressure
Gives me ten milligrams of ****** and unleashes me upon the world

I burn the corks and crack the plates
I litter the empty bottles to leave them for the rest of you to recycle

Can you handle change?
Can you hold your own during the transformation?
This erratic evolution of the soul and person?

You've been in the honor society
Have you been inmate 107501?
Then what do you know?

You've been converted by the prizes in cereal boxes
Save the box tops and mail them in for an all expense paid trip to Crimea

Take this box cutter and do your worst

Your tongue licks away this candy shell of doubt that surrounds me
Until you reach the chewy center and free the surreal pleasure of sweetness

I finished moving into my residential college as a storm began
- fat raindrops, as big as coconuts, falling from a black and fouling sky.

These northerners were acting like a "tropical storm" (Henri) was a big deal.

“Surely New England gets storms?” I ask, from behind my mask.
“What about NOR_Easters?” I say, like a meteorologist.
“Those are different.” I’m told, with no other explanation.

“Did you bring this storm from the “SOUTH?” I’m asked, accusingly.
(This was after I told them about coming from one ”bulldog-college-town” to another.)
“Yes.” I reply, “It was in my luggage.”

A silly question but they have a point - the storm feels like it’s involved and fulfilling some obligation to dramatize my college move-in story.

“Time to quarantine!” I’m informed - “Yep, can’t WAIT!” I lie.

One disaster at a time.

I told my doctor how when I get really upset I see clouds.
I told her that it looks like someone chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in the time it took me to blink.
She told me she can't explain it.
She told me I need glasses.
I told her I need new medication, that these ones aren't working anymore.
She told me that I'm not letting them.

She told me that depression comes in waves.
And if I stop fighting them, they'll come and go with ease.  
She told me to build a raft.
I told her I don't know how.

I don't know how to tell her that I'm drowning.  
I don't know how to tell her that these "waves" have turned into rip tides and now I'm so far out that I'm lost at sea.  

Excuse me miss, but how do you build a raft when you're never on shore?

She told me I need to start exercising; I guess water aerobics aren't enough.
I told her that I can't breathe.
She told me I might have asthma.
I told her water must have filled my lungs.

I told her that I used to identify as the calm before the storm.
But now I'm a category 5 hurricane.
I told her I've got winds up to 250 mph.
But I still can't find air.

And I'm sorry, Miss Meteorologist, but land won't slow me down.

I told her that I have and will destroy everything in my path.
She told me that now that I've hit land, I can pick up the debris and build a raft.
I told her I'd try.

She told me hello and asked how my raft is coming along.
I told her that my craftsmanship is sub-par.
I told her that the clouds were back.
I told her that she's the reason I can't look at water without it running down my face.

I keep a cloth by the door
to not let the cold breeze in,
but I'm a tornado living on the floor,
just waiting for the winds to begin.
Causing chaos and destruction,
wherever it is I choose to go,
battling a volcanic eruption
and tossing around the piles of snow.

I'll tear apart your home and family,
I'll toss around the life you live,
I'll admit it was never my plan, you see
but scorched earth is all I have to give.

No weather man or meteorologist
can give you warning about my arrival,
with all I wreck I ask "what's the cost of this,
when it's competing with my survival?"
I was once only a rain cloud,
then one day I became a storm,
my transformation never made me proud,
but my strength and power did keep it's form.

I thrive off the ice cracking,
under my heavy feet.
I'm beyond hunting or tracking,
I'm left here only to compete.
Each breath you exhale with cold air
is just my form of a sweet kiss.
Everytime, no fail, I'll be there,
I'll never be something you miss.

I'll tear apart the world as you know it,
I'll toss around the life you live,
I swear I have a heart I just don't show it,
'cause scorched earth is all I have to give.

When the winter winds grow cold,
I might turn to ice, I haven't made up my mind.
With a soul of mold and body of Christ,
you'll see that you've turned snow blind.
Silent nights and transparent stars,
it's all backdrop to my catastrophe.
When I whip on by I'll leave you with scars
and claim it's just a sweet memory.

I'll strip you down until the bone,
I'll take away the life that you live,
the trees and green grass is just a loan,
as scorched earth is all I have to give.

To the guy who always....
Is there.

To the guy who's always supporting me, when i think I might fall.
The guy who is kinder than words can say.

The guy who makes me feel like I am the queen of a planet.
To the guy who makes me feel like I can do anything.

To the guy with the true laugh,
The true smile.
The guy who I know would, for me, go an extra mile.

To the guy who holds me in his arms,
When the tears of depression, anxiety and other things I can't control burst forth from behind the dam I tried to build.

This is to the guy who tries so hard to make me happy,
To the guy who DOES make me happy.
That's the guy I want.
That's the guy you are.

I know I mess up.
I know you mess up.
But...
Life is messy.
I don't mind cleaning things up with you.

Just so they can get messy again.
Over
And
Over.

Because whether life is clean,
Or messy.

If I'm with you I'd love it all.

It's like weather.
We can dance in the rain and snow, play in the mud, enjoy the sunshine, and hide together from the hail.
The most important part is that even if we don't dance in the rain we can share the umbrella.

I'm not a meteorologist
I don't always know what the weather is gonna be like.
But I promise you
I'll be there in all weather patterns.
So let's look to the sky.

Make shapes out of the clouds.
Like our future, so far away.
But hey,
We're just describing what we see.
They're just clouds,
Floating in the breeze.
Distant possibilities.
For you.
And me.

A night where all creatures became confused
It was humans thinking the world was their excused
The moon seemed to turn beyond the norm
It’s the earth giving the world a warn
The bible of Revelations stated what was too come
But was this the moment of gloom?
Scientist couldn’t figure out
Electronic equipment offered no theory in what the phenomenon was all about
The people on earth panic and cries in shout
Now even the Meteorologist couldn’t figure out
However the moon seemed to smile
It was all through during while
A moment being sudden
It was causing human mood swing making personalities toughen
But wonders on everyone’s mind of when
Was this God’s warning on the Earth’s End?

The rain has stopped
But the clouds don't part
They can't.

The news says it is still raining,
But when I finally look out the window
I don't see the rain sliding down.

But why would I not trust the meteorologist?They are in charge
of warning us when a storm is coming.
So they always say it's raining,
But the rain stopped so many years ago.

A passenger cruise ship that left from San Juan, Puerto Rico
The ocean was calm and moving slow
The voyage with stops in the Caribbean
A journey to adventure
Eternity with a venture
Unknown to the passengers, there is danger in the air
Yet the Captain is unaware, and continues to preserver
Suddenly clear skies turned into a darkened shadow
The seas immediately became shallow
Blowing winds then followed
Passengers were watching candidly in what Meteorologist let be known
But what was next too be shown?
Mother nature and the seas with the ship being the connection
Immediately, the sea waves began to rise up
The ship would be waterlogged full like a drinking coffee cup
The waves were ever heading for the doomed ship
The ship was pacing back and forth and from side to side in a dip
The waves overpowered the entire ship
Angry seas at the command being God’s tip
Immediately the ship sank below
There were no survives, but no one really knows
Yet it was Davey Jones locker below
The seas were in control being the show
The ship nestled in a sea grave
The darkened clouds have disappeared, and the seas are calm in behave
Heavens watch and souls they crave.

Like the snowball first thrown in the bitter chilled winter days
Is the same as my grandma opening her eyes for the first time and in her mother's arms she lays.
Later as the years pass and love blossoms in her heart
My grandmother's life with her own family is about to start
Now she is like the first snowman built standing ready to guard her home
To stay there to protect and never to roam
But as time sweeps by so does her appearance she begins to melt
The meteorologist say it won't snow anytime soon and day by day she will alter  
They try to give her more pills to delay her death but they try to conceal it with their palter
Soon my snowman will just be another puddle licked up the earth
But I will always remember my snowman's worth

Why is it people will believe a Meteorologist?
But when it comes to the Lord, it’s having no Faith at all
Why is it the Heavenly Father who controls, people turn away?
The Heavenly one is the one who can destroy and move elements being Almighty
This is reality
Why is it people will read a novel book or computer news from beginning to end, but won’t pick up a Bible and read a scripture waiting on when?
The Bible has stories that actually happened or is prophesized to happen
But people just don’t believe
Yet the Lord is the one that gives relief
He also offers strength during grief
So why is the separation in who believes
Man functions on possibilities and assumptions
The Lord being Almighty in definite
Assurance you can trust
These are all added pluses
People tend to think they are their own victorious
But the Lord is involved and it is he who does the problems in resolve
So many more questions after questions
The question is, have you truly found the definite answer?
The answer is the environment was created not by man, but a more superior being
Man can think, but wisdom comes from understanding through the Superior
Man can’t construct nor destroy
Man is the decoy, but the powerful one instills the joy.

We fell about laughing as if it was yesterday
Scraping the tea stains from the sink
With glorious soapy bubbles.
Handsome returned from his park walk
Holding his diary like a black bible
Going over the weather details
As any diligent meteorologist.
By now the sun had risen to its peak
Giving out heat to two blind mice
Sitting together on a waste bin
Unable to sing as their batteries
Now lay useless inside.
Dinner was salad and fish
Followed by a bag of chocolate raisins
In hard to open cellophane.
It had not always been like this
But now only the essentials
Of posting a letter
Took over time .


Love Mary xxxx

Yes you heard on the news
I am the arrival of Hurricane Dorian
I am a storm that no one is enthused
I am not a Tornado so don’t get confused
I have a path and could be heading your way
I pack a wallop so I would suggest that you don’t stay
Pack your belongings and make a quick getaway
I bring Winds, Rain and possible Thunderstorms
Now you have been warn
Yet Meteorologist has no idea in what direction I might take
The decision is Heaven’s sake
Lives are at stake
Personal property could be loss
Boats will be feeling their toss
Of course winds will definitely have a force
I am Hurricane Dorian to be a reckon
Look and watch out
I am Hurricane Dorian that no one knows, but will definitely be talked about.

The amber moon

Super moon last night saw it from my terrace
18% brighter and 20% nearer, said the meteorologist
How unromantic can you get?
Hugh yellow and beautiful, so close I could reach
The moon with my broom, I felt the pull levitated
And dared to dream big.
Beauty should be shared till it becomes
A memory pooled by lovers, but you were not there.
This was a night of the vague nearness of the one you love.
I walked on a sandy lane thinking of your absence.

during and after a moderate snowfall
today January 19th, 2024,
within Southeastern Pennsylvania
and elsewhere across the Eastern Seaboard,
whereby blanket of whiteness
muffles sounds of civilization.

I hate a spoiler alert
regarding weather forecasters prediction,
especially when meteorologist
wannabe spouse doth blurt
out impending blizzard
which never materializes,
thus no need for yours truly to exert
himself shoveling and yet denying same
to frolic and gamely flirt
with Khione, the Greek goddess of snow,
daughter of Boreas, god of the North Wind
and Winter, and sister of Zethes and Calais.

I feel humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter
looses propensity to bestow majestic scene,
when expanse of pure white
individual ice crystals
that grow while suspended
in the atmosphere—

usually within clouds—
and then fall, accumulating
on the ground,
where they render further magic
changes landscape into blanket
of pure ****** whiteness;
I fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.

At that time January 1996
me and the missus while timesharing
at Shawnee on the Delaware
ardently, diligently, and persistently strived, yet
unsuccessfully conceived Blizzard Baby.

Now wife far beyond procreative age,
(though nevertheless I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
announced, *******, and issued forth little squirt
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.

Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.

Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
(plus he will be undergoing a colonoscopy
five days hence and abstain eating fiber
unless inclement weather determines otherwise)
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
able, eager, ready and willing
to lie supine, study
the backs of my eyes and digest.

"Mother Nature" commences
to baptize spilling
purity from sheltering overcast sky
bajillion year celestial tureen
while refulgent weak solar beams
desperately massage tender shoots
thawing frozen earth,
where frigid cold icy sheen
hermetically sealed, asper
horizontal frozen walled in pond,
Thoreau and thru,

when skaters waltzed
stealing lovers kisses unseen
soon thaw melts pools
of frozen precipitation
all a buzz with feeding
Gabriel donning primped
orange coiffure trumpeting
"NON FAKE" arrival herculean
kickstarting powers unleashed
since time immemorial worship,
and/or sacrifices made

to deities of webbed skein
viz, animal and/or plant
wide world rejoicing when
harvest yielded cornucopia
primitive, yet over keen
superstitious shutterfly scattered
bands of hominids plentitude
linkedin to sugar daddy's
favorite colored jelly bean
benediction, and veneration rituals
also included pagan dispensing

prayers believing
obeisance necessitated cyclopean
appeasement lest death
and destruction would rain
purple pearl drop monsoon,
traced to angry spirits
subsequently drowning
helpless prehistoric hygiene
cleansed **** sapiens
ancestors possessing gene

and chromosomes latent
within dormant flora lean
fauna coming alive
with the scent of fragrant bouquet
while the hills burst
with creativity healthy panacean
liberating tentative "cabin fever"
wrought by polar
vortex, the spell of warm weather,
a respite sunscreen

applied to ward off deadly
ultraviolet solar radiations
something in magnitude
bajillion extinctions obscene
spate of lost species
as seasons greetings witness hot
untenable global warming
affecting every calm serene
nook and cranny incumbent
to relish approximately

twelve weeks of cold temperatures
while sipping my ovaltine
reminiscing about Lake Wobegon days
recollected from fictitious boyhood,
when snowfall covered roofs
tops inconveniencing Rudolph,
and his deer friends a teen
nee tiny bit, and school cancellation
necessitated state requirement
resulting summer vacation
shelving reading Pygmalion
for Shaw!

Where's Ophelia?

Lately my thoughts are scattered
No filtering bladder
Happy un-birthday lets have
Tea cuz I feel madder then hatter

Like my brain was ***** matter
Recycled which explains
Why my parents call me a
**** for brains

In my eyes it always rains
So the forecast I'm callin it
Cause I can predict the ****
Like a meteorologist

Even my psychologist
Has to see a psychologist now
And all I did was tell her about
Bein a kid so my childhood turns out

Was ab normal or a portal
To immortal hell
Probably why I'm amoral as well
Directing ***** at 12

No no no Barbie be submissive
For ken no one likes a *****
And where's Gi joe this is a
******* scene ****

I'm a professional and refuse
To work like this
"No mom I have no clue where my
Sisters Barbie is"

That probably led to the dead
Cat, who I asked can I feel ya?
And before you know it the
diagnosis Was necrophilia  

i need help like Ophelia
So get me to the nunnery
If you don't get the reference
It's ok I'm full of odd dummery

So concluding with summary
Is ima mind **** like ******
Resulting in psychosomatic
Brain Assaulting causing lobotomy

Which I consider a commodity
Cuz it's better then mediocrity
Plus more interesting is sarcasm
contradiction and hypocrisy

Which is all part of my psychology
That offers me Psychosis
Acting as my main excuse for
My high in strong flight like Locust

Which is highly corrosive
Very ferocious to the brain
Which was already ****** like
It was the victim of a jailhouse train

Yelling bomb! bomb! On a plane
That's why I took the train
I couldn't be fixed by sigmand
Froud 50 dr Phils and a dr crane

But I swear I've been framed
By my mind frame no less
But no more either so I'm no more
Eager to fix it I guess ....

Seriously .....where the ****
is Ophelia?

I'm not in the mood to be
Serious or Make valid points
Or debate social issues
I just wanna anoint

To cleanse the emotion
And see what comes out
And hope it's not insecurity
Self pity or self doubt

It's hard saying help
It feels like a dogs yelp
Perplexed while still vexed
I can't figure life out

Or what it's about
Will I ever feel success
How can I relieve the stress
And achieve my best

When I believe my death
Is right around the corner
So many feelings bottled
Up inside I could be on hoarders

I'm a *** can u spare a quarter
Hi, hitman? I'd like to order
Can you shoot me lucky number
7 times it seems I'm out of order

I'm outta order? Your outta
Order!
This whole ****** poem is
OUT OF ORDER!

Please excuse the obtuse
Blown fuse I'm ok now
Stupid ****** what do u mean
U dont take pay pal

**** if u want something
Done right u gotta do it urself
I have no chance in life if a well
Liked success hangs himself

With his own ****** belt
So what chance do I have?
At finding happiness  I know
It sounds bad cuz I'm a proud dad

But that can't fix all the
**** malfunctioning inside
I'm so use to life ******* me in
The *** Ill probably go to pride

Part of my soul has died
The other parts like why ?
Why the ****** hell did I
Survive, I hate being alive

Even the devil wouldn't
make A deal and take it
And all I wanted was some
******* and to look good naked

I'm definitely not gods favorite
Even my parents seem to love
Other kids more than me,
ashamed their kids ******* up

But i wouldn't be if I stopped
Huffin gas and glue
Or unexpectedly had a child cuz
My birth control was Mountain Dew

Who knew that myth wasn't true
Maybe Santa's not real
Then my psychiatrist asks with Condescension
"how does that make you feel?"

I felt caged young like veal
So I conceal all the things
That add to the pile that will
All help when I explode and squeal

Like the pain is too real,
To live through anymore
Hearing countries going to
War and we talk like a score

Is being kept when both wept
When soilders on either side
Fought for their believed and
All that's bequest is bein denied

Being alive to see what survived
If his cause justifies it
So his future he may devise it
But his destiny defies it

Don't cry ****, your eye dry it
Don't be blinded by sadness
At least he gets a piece of peace
Ours is fake like an Easter rabbit

Live in his honor, less a maggot
And more patriotic
Comfort to a fool is a promise
To be honest dont me honest

I rather live thinking I'm ok
And die In surprise
Then be told my fate holds
Deaths cold hand that slides

Over my shoulder knocking
Over the chip
Which I woulda ate but I was
Saving it til I had some dip

I can't seem to get a grip
******* the exception
I give Too much information
On occasion it can't be corrected

Cuz my brain has rejected
The original factory settings
I know what the yellow and white
Stains are but blood on my bedding?

What's going on, something
Is seriously wrong
I been menopausal all my life
Oh well who cares I guess, yawn!

I'm growing tired here's a song
That's when I put country on
To have a cohesive vibe with
The depression comin on strong

Ouch I sat on my ****
Solving the mystery of blood
I didn't know ******* ripped
So easily...HUrry get me tongs for my ****

I seemed to have lost my thong now
too..But lost... never gone
Sing about that sisqo ....
where's the crisco I'm goin deep and long

The Hail Marys of retrieval
The most uncomfortable evil
But my fingers are ******* lucky
.....According to my ego (wink)

That was a good line people
Even if it was about my **** hole
Oh **** ....emergency evacuation
Someone get me a soup bowl

No seriously it's crucial
There's no loop hole out
Now there's this!.....high blood
Pressure, *****, **** itch, and gout

Otherwise I'm in perfect health
This poem has been a blast
So much depth, so much honesty
All wrapped up in.... class

Cause naturally I just have
That kind of suave demeanor
In Corduroy pants and a wool cardigan
While I listen to weezer

Lol I sound like such a wiener
Or...ahem.. winner if you will
Cause I hear what I wanna hear
And chances are... I always will

Cuz I'm idiotic neurotic and
Making constant deposits
Of elegant,to be eloquent,when  
i refer to the skeletons in my closet

Please... step into my office
Cause your ****** fired
Why is the crack I been smoking
Making me feel wired.....??

I hate spoiler alert
regarding weather forecasters prediction,
especially when meteorologist
wannabe spouse doth blurt
out impending blizzard
which never materializes.

Yours truly humbled and enamored
when Mother Nature
singly and/or nsync with old man winter
looses propensity to wreak havoc
and/or blankets landscape
I fondly think back
remembering '96 storm of the century.

At that time January 1996
me and the missus timesharing
Shawnee on the Delaware
ardently striving, yet
unsuccessful conceiving Blizzard Baby.

Now far beyond procreative age,
(though I wistfully envisage
begetting another progeny -
simultaneously stretching credulity
to breaking point)
all things considered
exhaustion would peter out
after capitulation of divining rod
necessitating lifetime to recoup energy.

Bound within figurative four walls
of Schwenksville, Pennsylvania domicile
courtesy appreciable snowfall,
I direct energy crafting poem.

Yours truly will actually
refrain comestibles despite feeling hungry -
lest metabolism to digest food
decreases potential alertness,
and full belly finds me
ready able and willing
to doze immediately into deep slumber.

Hungry stomach in tandem
with eventful weather
sends surge of giddiness
coursing thru body electric
crackling, popping, and snapping
(while O Captain My Captain)
came to witty man (me) suddenly
enervating with poignant pregnant expectancy
papa pondering his empty nest syndrome
analogously attempting to offset void

coaxing poem into existence
unsure how literary endeavor
(mine) will thrive
amidst well suited
panoply of prolific writers,
whose unseen fingers
hop lightly and gracefully
across qwerty computer keyboard
akin to heavy armed soldiers
with fearlessness and deliberation
heading off to war to acquire poetic license.

Meanwhile chafed knuckles
of one garden variety primate
previously scraping along tundra
(methinks I espy frozen Mastodon)
(before twenty first century caveman
learned to stand *****)
endeavors to strike letter combinations
eliciting, facilitating, and generating
enticing curb appeal.

Page fifteen.
I have been looking at this page for hours
walked to the terrace and back still 15
went shopping bought thing I didn't
need, the page hadn’t budges
page 15, how to overcome this obstacle?
writing about the weather, so you are a meteorologist now.
Actually, am I can forecast rain with my knees and
a general feeling of discontent.
Page 15 can do its own things what do I care
there is always a page 16.
Are you sure?
At your age, the falcon of death might strike
any moment and the rest will be blank pages,
so am better off sticking with page 15.

First time in New York City’s history
Meteorologist find the Tornado a mystery
The Tornado touched down in the heart of Midtown
Travelling straight down Seventh Avenue
It happened during the evening rush hour
Precise at the hour
Citizens were frenzied with fright
New York City never saw a Tornado up close in plain sight
This was definitely no ordinary day
The sky darkened
Panic on the eyes of New York City
Skyscrapers that graced the skies
They were rocking back and forth being an emphasize
The winds were fierce with fury
Everything was blowing everywhere
Not your average day compared
Everyone was thinking was this the end of New York City?
Would God have pity?
Wrath of God’s power
Repent while you got time
The Heavenly Hour Glass moving like a stop watch
Observe and be obedient
Pray just pray
Suddenly the Tornado disappeared
Warning behind caution
New York City was sparred
Would another Tornado return?
Would New York City be ready?
Wait and continue to pray out
This is something to think about.

Your eyes pore above me, inkwells from
which your curls spill forth, dripping down
on unwritten I, down, down comes
a splash on my collar, splattering spiders.
A feather traces my faultlines, miniature quakes the only
sign, the meteorologist who breaks more than he heals,
for once.
Your eyelids burn, a candle burn, revealing handiwork too numerous to read.