Driving thru lots of
Parked cars, many un-
Aligned...
Ask you?
Askew...
Wow. There oughta be
A law or two to keep
Those cars in lines.
(Let's get Google to
Drive our cars for us!
They'd behave better,
Until they became self-
Aware, that is)
Googo-
Pocalpyse

Navigating parking lots is
Gambling against heavily
Uneven odds, the House(s)
Eventually winning by de
Fault of small electronics

Merry Christmas! Used
To hear that from just about
Every mouth and furry pair
Of lips. Now, the ubiquitous
"Happy Holidays" or as Seinfeld
So brilliantly mocked,
"Festivus for the Restofus"
The mocking is now
Knocking on our
Cultural Door to
Heck

Driving past a Fitness
Planet: the misspeled
Word "Judgement"
And the irony poking
Me in the eye is that little
"E"
That SHOULD belong nestled
Snugly in the deep middle of
That word, but, strangly, isntt...
And I'm doing what that sign
Admiringly attempts to cajole:
I'm judging. I'm judgEing.

I do this, constantly, all
My waking minutes:
Not passing on judging, but
Holding 4 aces and 1 joker...
(Me)
Hands clenched in rage as
(Again)
I steer obliquely thru parking
Lots, doing the very same
Crime I accuse everyone else
Being guilty of...

I scream...
THERE IS NO 'e' IN
JUDGEMENT!

Don’t you ever think its strange,
How personal a thing can be
but is so distant once on paper?
I used to be hurting, too much to speak,
And yet this one poem from years  ago
Rang out to me. It told me to keep my head
Held high and keep pushing through.
But I can remember at the time, my life
Felt as if it were going to end.
Broken hearts soon mend, true they echo hard
But they soon are filled in with sweeter men.
Still, don’t take caution to the wind, you’ve learned
A lesson once, don’t fall for it again.
You don’t want to look back at two poems written
For the same pain, when it could have been easily
Avoided. Yet hell no don’t hold back, let yourself
Be free; hold your head high and keep breathing.
Its finding the healthy in between that’s the hardest
Part. But that’s all part of the roller coaster ride.
Keep healthy, stay safe, don’t fall down if you
don’t expect to get right back up, always keep
bandage’s handy for those times you get scrapes
and always keep that smile on your face,
Cause trust me, reading what you once were
Can lead you to what you will be,
Broken hearts mend and sweet hearts send a
Shiver down your spine. Just be sure to keep
That head high and don’t scare them off too quickly.
Don’t you ever read something you wrote and wonder
Whether it’s ending the way it started?

He was evil
Worse than the devil
He cut my soul
And tore it to shreds
He laughed at my depair
And cried at my rejoicing
But my rejoicing is a thing of the past
He made sure of that
My sorrows cloud my mind
And all the while I hear his  cruel evil laugh
Intertwined amongst the melodies of death
I hear my soul cry out to my heart
He wrenches and the sound is gone
My heart  batters at the wall
The wall I put there
To protect and safegaurd it
My heart cries out
Intertwined amongst the melodies of death
I hear my soul scream out in suffering
My heart attacks the wall again
And I feel it crumble
Strangly I do not care
That wall has caused me pain
But I kept it there with the illusion
That without it the pain would be tenfold
So as the wall crumbles
I reqch out and pull it down
My heart soars
Power flashes and radiates outwards
I rejoice and he cries
He screamrs and challenges my heart
My heart attacks and ............


Intertwined amongst the melodies of life I hear him and I smile
I won

Beneath the Iron Gates,
A story so dark and twisted.
Never ending tunnels,
Greif hung in the air.

A black curving stony path,
Awakens every sense but sight,
Hear the air around you,
Steady pace, keep on.

Destination unknown,
But the journey,
Strangly is set.
this arbitrary determination.

Bare feet fall,
Upon the cold gems of the earth.
Guide them to the end.
That never will be reached.

What is that in the distance?
Chance of light, I believe.
But will the casted shadows grab you,
Before you make it to the end?

The Reaper stands above you,
But to someones surprise,
To you, He is invisible,
Run. From. This. Place.

Dont. Go. Beneath. The. Iron. Gates.

I have a
disconcerting.... habit.
not drugs Mind you
or the like,
its a phrase- or more honestly a turn of one.
"Come Along."                                                          ­  Strangly simple right?
For the life of my life i don't know
WHY
I repeat it.

Am i perhaps
reMinding my Mind
"be Mindful of those landMines planted by that Mindless mad man"?!

in honesty,
i doubt it.

December 26th, 2015
how strangly empty the sites I visit are
no-one seems to be around
my first thought
the folks I normally see
they've received gifts that they didn't like
now they're at the stores
returning them
exchanging them
to meet their own desires
I know it's allowed
it's also pretty common these days
it seems that there's just no appreciation
not for the givers anyway
I guess those days are gone
it's the thought that counts
isn't very popular anymore

They never forgot the
distant sound of bells
or those specific autuminal
decay and cinnamon smells
or the long procession of cars
coming over the asphalt swells.
If it was cards the swollen eyes
and thin lips would be obvious tells.

Still, they recall the lingering
odor of well dressed bodies at mass.
The kids in ties and shiny shoes
who looked nothing like in class.
The ornate handles the men
grabbed at each side made of brass.
The long walk to the open pit
and the strangly bright artificial grass.

The man in black spoke low and loud
the warnings and lamented lost joys.
The older women wept, the men
clenched jaws and shushed all noise.
The children thought of homeroom jokes
and shared comics and borrowed toys.
They all touched on some unspeakable
truth not yet totally known by little boys.

When the day was over and the
workman's efforts finally done
the men gathered at an old bar
and toasted the setting sun.
They sat in tight circles and whispered
not about games or distances run
but about a brevity they couldn't fathom
and the unforgotten report of the gun.

The young men wondered where
they'd found the small coffin.
Had they built it special just
for the the day? To see him off in?
The old men spoke hard words
but their tired eyes would soften.
Box wasn't special, they wished for
different but built them often.

everything earthly has become somehow unimportant for my mind(even when I respect it still). It is strangly hard to grasp within words what my mind and spirit is longing for but I know that anything tangible within my concsiousness wouldnt quench it.

Strangly enough―
it was the most silent night…
I hear the footfalls
of your absence.

There was no affair
between you and me. Only the flames
of frost I was born with. Blue
roses still keep a ritual
of counting the deaths.

I didn't touch you. The
placenta still dragging the neon
light of the womb, the
sins lay bare.

The land mines exploding
one by one. Maimed truths speak
of the communion
with unseen gods, who will not come out
in the courtyard.

The yellow straw like bleached hair suitable to her look was just fine ,
The bar was mostly empty , just lost souls, the stale smoke and stale smell of un washed folks staring into empty glasses , waiting to be filled again strangly made me feel welcome.
As I approached the bar the tender asked what's your poison , just a beer and a shot of your cheapest liquor , I savioured both glasses and asked for just one more double of the cheap liquor.
As I drank it down
My cramps now gone , again it was up to my liver .