Fold

The misty luminescence of a January moon
immerses me in portents of despair that all too soon
will make me rue the day I drank the bitterest libation
to mark that dismal moment of my excommunication.

No wick can wipe the wickedness away
No hymn can offer harmony that soothes
No staff can staunch the wounds from those who prey
as whispers scurry forth from curtained booths
and shadows dominate the drafty aisles
imbued with incense of demonic wiles.

Flotsam

A fading picture’s yellow crease
is crisp upon the wall,
the portrait of a fine young niece
he never knew at all.

No glowing hearth or imminence
secures him to the ground,
displaced by vast indifference
too stubborn to be drowned.

Moving Targets

Inanities grow wearisome
to mill away the muse
with surface grit that soon abrades my shield;
left raw by jagged odium
I sputter like the fuse
that longs to spark this ordnance I wield.

I always aim to be direct
but dread that fierce recoil effect.

Lean

Welcome to the golden age of senseless speculation
a mangle of mismanagement and mean misinformation
where every day’s an exercise of errant execution
tilting towards the entropy that fosters revolution.

Foothold

Before serenity abounds
the clash of constant change resounds;
keep heading for uncharted grounds
while crashing surf routinely pounds
to inundate your chosen route
with unrelenting waves of doubt
and though wet feet will often freeze
tenacious toes gain new degrees.

Turnover

Planning, prepping
Shopping, schlepping
Escaping, scraping
Ever scraping
Grilling, growing
Filling, flowing
Stirring, stowing
Always going.

Fa la la la la la la fa cue

Jolly thoughts are not extolled here
greediness is what’s expected,
crunchy snacks and lots of cold beer
help sustain the misdirected.

Seeking laughter’s bright forgiveness?
Jolly thoughts are not extolled here;
tepid hearts demeaned in darkness
propagate their lies and old fear.

Breaking free of every mold dear
couldn’t garner more rejection,
jolly thoughts are not extolled here
only scripted genuflection.

Mistletoe replaced with hemlock,
carols with a guinea gold jeer,
doomed to rot alone on this rock
jolly thoughts are not extolled here.

Not-So-Missing Links

The truth is often something
we will seldom truly see
regardless how intensely sought
it hides elusively
behind the chosen mantle
oft confused with destiny;
but still we sternly forge ahead
another lump upon the bed.

What's All That Screaming?

I learned of a strange correlation
Twixt shark bites and ice cream consumption
They say there’s no causal relation
But I think that’s a faulty assumption
The ultimate carnivore knows where it’s at
All of the flavor comes from the fat!

Mother's Day

She stoops and plucks a scraggly weed
that plots to nettle her sleeping seed;
refuses to wilt, serenely proud
in fields where mums stand silently bowed.

Why must the brightest growing tall
succumb to steel and finally fall?
There are no speeches anyone could say
to justify bringing her own bouquet.

You Want That To Go?

Well how is everybody? Me, tired but satisfied. After a month straight of working the 'day-job' and then going to the restaurant and cleaning, painting, planning, decorating and finally tonight cooking, we are ready to open. Hopefully people will enjoy the food and spread the word. We are right next to a Dominos Pizza place and they came over to buy some cheeseburgers with fries. They said it was very good, so now we have made our first buck. May many more follow. I've been working on the conclusion to Briar's Patch and should have it done soon, until then here's a little poem I wrote for a contest earlier this year that didn't seem to move the judges, but maybe it will say something to somebody in the blogiverse. Farewell for now,

Bob

Drone

Pensive
apprehensive
and well… just a bit defensive,
I’ve sloshed through swamps
with futile stomps
while self-doubt chomps

away

at

every

fiber of my being.

I didn’t choose to be alive
though opted not to live
but now I yearn to flee the hive
with all I’ve got to give—
released from those communal fears
the buzz of freedom in my ears.

Making Doo

When complications aggravate
two types of folks remediate:
those that make the best of it
and those that wallow in the shit.

Obtundent

Increments have quickly flown
to shuttle shadows past the point
that dawn could ever re-anoint
as chilling rime bites the bone.

Throughout the veins of stoic stone
a slowness creeps that won’t desist
when craggy crevices are kissed
by crystal climes it can’t postpone.

Those fading wisps of spring cologne
remind us not to squander tears
on seasons lost as solstice nears
when chilling rime numbs the bone.

Crumb

I find myself thankful for life
with all of its hardship and strife
at times fed up with our race
intent on a morsel of grace.