he watches the rain like
it's alive
but he feels less alive himself
behind him
the house turns dark
its last light going off

don't turn back
don't look back
keep going ahead

and maybe another house
and another wife
will open up before you

or maybe there'll be another
war coming
and the nation will need
your service
again

this time the fear shall be
less intense
The first time
someone points
a gun at you
you're terrified
the second time's the same
third
forth
and so on
but eventually there comes
a time when you
run out of people
to point guns at you

fifth

twelfth

forty-third

and none of them make you
feel like her eyes
watching from the window
behind the curtains
and no pulling of the trigger
and no bang
is like her voice screaming
at the kid to go away, to not look

"A stranger! That's what the
man outside is. And I'm calling
the police if he keeps staring like that.
DON'T!
you dare look at him. Go to
your room. Now."

What's a man when all
the wars are over?
A squirt gun against the sun.

His good hand, the one with
whole and working fingers
reached into an inner pocket
of his uniform, found
nothing.

He walked on
And it rained on
And there were no more wars

Ever just find a vein and push
And it may or may not make you puke
Or it might make you calm as any
Mediterranean island all
Pineapples free and coconuts
Dark skinned virgins for the taking
Pigs apple mouthed grinning
Time as free as the wind,
Or me, I did once, perhaps the wrong blue snake stuck out I poked and it bit me, becoming belacose irritably insane deranged I belted out
The only song I know by heart.
" I want to Rock and Roll
All night!  
And party every day"

It went on


And on
Same words


Endless

But

I think I danced
Dont remember

Can you tell me please,
Who the **** finds it a breeze
To scan poems in several identities
Just to minus all the
Comments?

The seismic worth I try to shake to be like an earth shattering ******* ring
On the hooves of a stampede or the deafening of the highest cascade of water over a breach but come across more like a meek mouse peep in a corner with a large danged cat hovering over then I get a bit brave naive cower no more and type into a poem with no escape or norm visible and words flow out like I'm be-deviled as I back to the wall say to hell with it all and bark like a big ******* dog

When the sun scorched the sand,
I went to Henry’s Island.
The winter came and left the shore
Spring was for a while and then no more
The rains beat the shingled beach
The soothing autumn was within reach.
Yet I spurned these tempting seasons
Couldn’t persuade myself with good reasons
To visit the island in fairer weather
And landed on it in the harshest summer!
The sands bit my feet like burning coal
The beach seemed alone without a soul
To the distant horizon my eyes could gaze
A fishermen’s boat hung in the haze.
The red ***** though found it a fun
To come out of hole to bathe in the sun
When I was close they were quickly gone
The beach was alive and I wasn’t alone.
The seagulls skimmed the waves for fish
The sea was all mine like in the dreamiest wish
Placing all her beauties at only my command
Gifting me a glorious summer at Henry’s Island.

Heated
Baths of liquid gold on
Skins of alabaster cold
Were the touches
Of her hand
On his body
In his soul