Aerodonetics

To stand upon the precipice
that overlooks a gorge of bliss
encouraged by a zephyr’s kiss

and hazard the voracious void
in hopes of being overjoyed—
we fly reborn or die destroyed.

Skids

Observe: metallic mites proceed
along the avenue of greed
their glaring glassine eyes aglow
and creeping up on those too slow
oblivious to risks of speed
or having nowhere good to go.

Report: indifferent fools condemn
this race to shun what’s good for them
by paving under gray concrete
the verdant earth beneath their feet
so they can drive a gleaming gem
down a dead end street.

Broke

It’s tough to save when you’re a slave
surviving on the runny gruel
some handsome, haughty master gave
his favorite feisty fool.

You scrounge but never get ahead
(it’s tough to save when you’re a slave)
you’ll scramble for a crust of bread
they love to make you crave

to lure you right into a grave
there are more to take your place,
it’s tough to save when you’re a slave
a sliver of forgiving grace

within your anguished mind.
It’s an asset to be brave
but when you’re strapped you just may find
it’s tough to save when you’re a slave.

Count On It

Mathematics never lie
but numbers can be sly
the most pragmatic answer rests
in understanding why

for ignorance infests
what vanity divests
just look at all the would-be kings
beneath their fallen crests

as the victor's fanfare rings
(betrayal really stings)
subjective misconceptions won
by more self-serving things.

Get Cookin'

Life is like a can of hash
alot of filler, little flash
but if it's rendered properly
what a banquet it can be.

Common Sense

I need my own voice
so I can sing
the song of my choice
and let it ring

but also an ear
that finds the key
ensuring I hear
what sets me free

with keener sight
I might confirm
that pointless fright
makes one a worm

and using touch
I hope to find
the love of such
as my own kind.

Thankful

In search of even ground to tread
a clearer path on which to wend
extensive tours within my head
were quaint but never did ascend
I thought of all the poems I'd penned
and helpful things I tried to say
ironically though, in the end
it took a child to chart the way.

Justifiable

So many wander aimlessly
you can see it on their faces
they stand and dawdle shamelessly
incognizant of graces,

they prop their carts perpendicular
across the narrow aisle
and when you say “Can I slip through here?”
you get a vacant smile,

or when they swerve their vehicles
serenely cross the road
unmindful of the ventricles
that threaten to explode

and now that it’s the holiday
their kind are everywhere
holding up the lines to pay
completely unaware—

the world could use some levity
and clemency to boot
but block the way in front of me
and I may have to shoot.

Transcend

Don’t dwell on the line you forgot
just think of another to jot
the stars and the stories you plot
comprise the extent of your lot—

resist that reflexive restraint
when prepping your palette to paint
don’t let your timidity taint
your flicker until it’s too faint—

creation is crucial you see
to prove to ourselves that we’re free
and that deep inside you and me
is the essence of all we can be.

Cheesy

When did my compassion turn to varnish,
my modest mettle slowly start to tarnish?
I must search inside to ascertain my center
where moderation manifests as mentor;
serenity’s insidious asylum
can turn malign, corrupting healthy xylem
but was it Sheryl Crow or was it Buddha
that said – don’t long for Swiss if you’ve got Gouda.

Breakers

The ocean gnaws the shore
I bite back with my oar
a turbulent tug-of-war
as is the tide.

My valiant vessel braves
the brunt of warrior waves
though billions in their graves
already tried.

Upon our fluid fronts
the flow of battle stunts
advancement for the grunts
that die denied.

Icarian Idyl

An amber autumn sun
is sinking in the sky
like golden leaves that run
on winds condemned to die
as all the deeds we've done
despite how hard we try,

a higher court will try
us justly when the sun
explodes and life is done
or comets from the sky
condemn our lot to die
wherever we may run.

We've had a decent run
while learning how to try
though best intentions die
deprived of precious sun
when gloomy grayish sky
has ultimately done

its job, though hope's not done,
uncertain, never run
as boundless as the sky
above we long to try
to fly through but the sun,
if neared, will make us die;

but must we conform to the die?
a creed that hasn't done
one thing to stop the sun
yet promises to run
the circus better - they'll try
to patch the ailing sky,

when porcine pilots sky
above our heads (I'd die
to see the porkers try!)
but it just can't be done
and soon we all will run
from the fury of the sun.

Ever try to reach for the sky
to brave the sun you cast a die
deciding what's done - roast or run.

Just Me

Juxtaposed
Unmercifully
Somewhere
Twixt

Misguided
Expectations.

Written Out

All contact eschewed
and now she can’t feel
they call it a mood
like they know what’s real
the only thing that keeps her sane
are endless thoughts she can’t contain

and pouring them out
an inky curative
a spiritual spout
that compels her to live
until that unimaginable day
when there’s nothing left to say.

Digest

I keep one tasteful book
of Browning in my house
which must have been mistook
for brownies by a mouse!

Keep it Moving

A leaf has a season to be
one temperate instance that’s free
from eventual entropy

the universe cycles (with luck)
and we’re just primordial muck,
eternal stagnation would suck.

Big

The genesis is like a kiss
from sweet soft lips enticing bliss,
gestation starts and heart of hearts
begins to form its fleshy parts,
delivery is easily
the hardest step (it’s killing me)
before you know it has to go
and hopefully you watch it grow.

Involved

A person perpetually perplexed
may find that it's a challenge to exist
when stumbling from one crisis to the next
through follies of frustration that persist.

We really shouldn't snicker at the sight
of people perpetually perplexed
for any one of us could face the plight
supposing that our luck is somehow hexed

that someone's evil mojo has been flexed
to cast a spell of never ending strife,
a person perpetually perplexed
mistakenly blames others for their life

and all the pain they bring upon themselves
like me, a vessel evidently vexed
defeated in whatever den it delves
a person perpetually perplexed.

Cable

The garbled waves of make pretend
that carry pitches shysters send
used to travel through the air
to anyone, anywhere--
a spiny piece of metal set
upon the roof and angled let
a snowy face at last be seen
emitted by that glowing screen
which called the family to convene
but now the robbers truly get
the most invasive signal yet
that straps you to your easy chair
(of course with beer and munchies there)
programming you with the latest trend
they keep the tether taut my friend.

Brrrr

The trees aren't bare though leaves have gone
their latest duds revealed at dawn
the crows that come from everywhere
though leaves have gone the trees aren't bare.

Long limbs are bowed beneath the weight
as ebon bodies congregate
a murder found a new abode
beneath the weight long limbs are bowed.

The coldness comes before we know
and with it frozen mounds of snow
the chilling call of ravens numbs
before we know, the coldness comes.

Theme

Will the ride end tomorrow
or was it over yesterday
we’re bombarded with such sorrow
at times it’s hard to say,

no prophecy could quite foretell
the depth of hate we feel
or testimony ever quell
the sway of evil’s zeal.

The glowing demon vomits forth
regurgitated death
while junk with no intrinsic worth
pilfers trusting breath—

an orgy of destruction waits
for one unknown event
that unexpectedly escalates
our dizzying descent,

I just hope by then that I’ll be
tagged upon my toe
another weary tourist free
from this wonderland of woe.

Punchline

I’m not a no-nonsense kind of guy
I love a good joke or two
but if you think it’s a riot to spit in my eye
you won’t be laughing when it’s through.

Quandary

Is foresight intelligence
if no one bothers to heed,
is knowledge arrogance
on which the boorish feed,
is conceit just indifference
that brews within our breed—
can apathetic happenstance
fulfill our constant need?

Stale

The day that junk food disappears
we’ll probably age twenty years
but not from how anybody lives
just a simple lack of preservatives.

Generation

Each time I see that pic I always start
to smile (we three are laughing on the stairs)
I love that little imp with all my heart

he elevates sheer cuteness to an art
with candid spurts of wonder he declares.
Each time I see that pic I always start

to feel the warmth his closeness can impart
and joy his playful grin innately shares.
I love that little imp with all my heart,

so much, without him near it tends to smart
and then the need for pointless crying flares,
each time I see that pic I always start

the salty, sentimental tears are tart
a burden that my doting gladly bears,
I really love that imp with all my heart.

I hope that I have somehow done my part
assuring him that someone out there cares
each time I see our pic I always start
to feel a grandpa's love within my heart.

All Souls

I hugged the faux coffin, gently kissed it
knowing full well that you weren't in it
while praying that its golden hue
would match the halo saved for you;

you were never expected to be pristine
but we didn't know how hard it could be
and you slowly started to slip between
the rifts that we refused to see

as black as this case
of chalky white ash
my own private stash
of shameful disgrace

its been such a blur
from fallible eyes
or innermost lies
who knows for sure...

and who knows why those we love feel so much pain
they take their haunting secrets to the grave
attempts to ask the ashen are in vain
just be thankful for the precious love they gave.

Code of Conduct

A lavish lord
can ill afford
to not reward if profits soared

but so it goes
the fortune grows
while workers wallow in their woes

but now they stand
together and
they’re questioning who’ll run this land

they mustn’t shirk
what dangers lurk
for all good things require work

if we don’t earn
what makes us yearn
we’ll never get to grow and learn.

Virago

Gertrude Germanky
was laughably lanky
and always came off
as a little bit cranky

she’d scathingly scoff
and men (with a cough)
were rapidly donning
what they’d chanced to doff.

Despite all the yawning
her banter was spawning
she seemed to be blind
no inkling was dawning

to try and be kind
or not speak her mind
and once she passed thirty
the odds that she’d find

a beau who was flirty
or daringly dirty
grew steadily worse
for garrulous Gerty.

Overture

I search for signs of meaning in my life
but only find uncertainty and strife,
why can’t I just be like others are
oblivious to callings from afar—

the sultry siren song of distant dreams
which helps drown out the incoherent screams
of sordid souls that cultivate distress
to disregard their own ungodly mess

is sometimes all that keeps me somewhat sane
and stomaching the melodramatic strain
which emanates from this chaotic globe
an inauspicious specimen to probe,

replete with those too bellicose to hear
the symphonies that beckon every ear
with promises of furnishing a clue
on how to make our best potential true.

Heated

The boundless hope of youth is gone
deducted by the corporation
which leaves me sorely overdrawn
surviving on sheer desperation
while every day seems less and less
that any dream will coalesce,

but a fire in my heart still burns
despite the constant suffocation
of those whose selfish coldness yearns
to thoroughly block all ventilation
and though they try without much shame
they’ll never snuff this fearsome flame.