Flip

For every bad day there’s one not so bad—
the trick is remembering that when you’re mad.

Crash

How small I must seem
to someone up there
who chances to look at the ground
while I fight the gleam
to triumphantly stare
at a race resolutely profound—
but what good are planes
or cars and the such
how well will they get us around
when Man at last drains
what we covet so much
not one precious drop to be found.

Herd?

Suspended twixt the magic and mundane
I hang upon articulated lines
while music courses through each rhythmic vein
like whispers through the undulating pines
that carry far beyond the chosen plain
to help compose fantastical designs
discernable to any that will choose
to listen with the ears we seldom use.

Sedimentary

The moon was so new that it shone
like a sliver of hope in the sky—
the wink of an omniscient eye
dismissing the need to atone
for even the craggiest stone
with a penchant to coldly deny
the truth,

despite being perfectly blunt
albeit not terribly round
or (some would say) deeply profound.
Embedded faults command a grunt
but sometimes it’s more than the brunt
that keeps you on the ground—
Ah, youth.

Pets

I read the wry rebuttals on the board
as highly educated minds dispense
their over-written tripe and then commence
to gripe about who may have truly scored
an instant classic; and there’s the old coot
(of course) proclaimed as ‘He Who Knows It All’
concocting quips with aggravating gall
that make you wish you had a gun to shoot
him dead. But then, you’d more than likely miss
and have to suffer through his evil taunts,
or worse yet hear stories of anal haunts
while he recounts his boyish backdoor bliss.
I try to fit in, but never quite click—
it seems I’m inept at stroking a prick.

Resolution

With what eyes do we see?
In what light do we limn
the mysterious whim
of our own destiny?

Are we partial to clay?
With what tool do we shape
or conveniently scrape
imperfections away?

Is the model the key?
Is it balance we seek
as we grow more oblique?
With what eyes do we see?

Rebel

It’s easy to see
how a plea to be free
could be signed on a day such as this
the sun’s bright and high
each breeze like a sigh
of barely containable bliss.

What creature could stand
a governing hand
compelled to cavort in a crown?
There’s so much to do
and days are too few
to squander one tick bowing down.

No Catering

I spared a sprig of thyme
from the order I had scrambled
aware the only crime
would be in never having gambled

for struggling by corporate rules
is much too all consuming,
I’ve had my share of fancy fools’
pejorative presuming—

so belly up and grab a plate
the fare is quite delicious
without the risk of gaining weight
from richness that’s pernicious.

Misread

Gestures of humility
mistaken for hostility
will over-complicate a simple matter—
pleasant country platitudes
do not deserve an attitude
when all that was intended was to flatter.

The Art of Alienation

Hey all, how goes it? Me, well I'm slowly getting myself together. I have recently been through much bullshit at work and it was getting to the point that I wanted to snap, literally. I felt the rage burning inside like never before in my life and it was making me miserable. Anyways I hope I haven't offended anyone in any way and am posting this rendition of the Incredible Hulk I did in honor of the new movie and as a way to say goodbye to the monster I was becoming inside. Hopefully it will 'draw' some responses (sorry couldn't resist)

Riddance

It takes no divination
to see your future dear,
that former invitation
is a ticket to appear
upon some transportation
that’ll cart your worthless rear
to a dismal destination
far away from here.

Powerless

Without the loud transmission
or the cybernetic thrall
I’m lulled into submission
by the clock upon the wall;

each tick is like a cannon shot
proclaiming the demise
of one more chance to change the plot
that circumstance supplies.

I hear a low commotion
as it clatters far away
which calls derailed devotion
to forget the ties and stray—

such furrows crenelate my brow
that shadows blind my sight,
I’m blowing out the candle now
it’s time to say goodnight.

Communicable

When muscles warped and shuttles zoomed
who knew what insidious illness loomed
for remnants cut so many times
that only fragile fringe remains
to dangle like forgotten chimes
as any wind worth catching wanes.

Decaying streets became a sheath
exposing cobblestones beneath
that fester like infected cuts
in need of an effective cure
but all there is are deeper ruts
ensuring sickness will endure.

Prescription

As smoky sunlight saturates the clouds that won’t disperse
reality repudiates that things can’t get much worse
but luckily the need to vent is easy to coerce
and so another night is spent dispensing physic verse.

Offish

They went to the wake
I stayed to forsake
my waning humanity lest I relapse,
if forced to partake
bravado will break
releasing the sorrow that clogs each synapse.

I long to relate
but fail to create
a permanent pathway through which to commune
and sadly I’ll wait
until it’s too late
my own wake attended by none but the moon.