Misguided

Although the shrines are shutting down
this land is not a godless place
we praise ourselves in temples made from clay,
oblivious to obvious decay,
convinced our grandeur nulls the need for grace
or temperance on which to hang a crown—
there’s no illogic reason can rebuke
when basing all belief upon a fluke.

Extinction

How much is your dénouement worth:
integrity, a cozy berth?
The forfeiture of reason blares
discordant strains, though no one cares
to dampen mandatory mirth
with facts a lowly fool prepares.

Hypocrisy resembles tar
for once you’re in you don’t go far
each move constrained by sticky goo
that constantly pulls down on you
until (despite how glib you are)
you’re in the pit, existence through.

Capitulation

I want a new job
devoid of all strife
or reasons to swab
I need a new life

I’m sick of the bills
that foster the mess
which thoroughly kills
my chance for success

so screw the whole world
whose problems are rife
the flag is unfurled
I need a new life.

Later

That gator’s on the loose again
but I won’t fuss and stomp
I’ll find a much more peaceful fen
to hell with this old swamp!

Downed

Forgive the abrasion
and bruises that shine
it’s just the persuasion
of sparkling wine,

I should be as bubbly
as this brimming glass
instead I want doubly
to blister your ass;

hung over tomorrow
I’m sure to abhor
that I’ve caused you sorrow
so hurry, pour more

to grant me some slumber
an hour or two
before I encumber
your future anew—

the vessel is hollow
it’s hard to decline
each deadening swallow
of sparkling wine.

Belch

When corporate clowns are loosed
and food is mass produced
indulgence is induced
while taste becomes reduced.

Dwelling

The plywood panes are testament
to how her final days were spent
withdrawn from all but her best friend
the spiteful spirit discontent;

but truthfully, did we extend
accepting arms, or did we send
the promise of discouragement
from rigid limbs too scarred to bend?

Each day the dwelling cries – REPENT!
and fuels this lachrymose lament
I fear will haunt me till the end—
the plywood panes are testament.

Axis

Amidst a spiral swirl of stars we spin
obliquely round a minor yellow sun,
adrift among the cosmic eddies in
this vast expanse with which we all are one
while questioning the consequence of sin
and barely grasping how much we have spun,
for every body turns at its own rate—
eccentric cycles constitute our fate.

Kicking Back

I grimaced at the feet of snow reclined in my deck chair
because I knew, by rights, that should be me relaxing there
but I won’t let a lack of rest deplete me to despair
for one swift punt propels the stuff careening through the air.

Finish

Some people label thoughts a poem
because they used a form
fastidiously fashioning the flanks
so perfectly it shines like chrome
and feels about as warm—
you can’t forge art by filling in the blanks.

Straighten

Arithmetic is not a slant
though data skews where truth is scant;
perhaps our time would best be served
pursuing plots a bit less curved.

Submission

Another match another fall
another after hours brawl
the greatest strength that he can claim
is living with forgotten fame;
they used to cheer like maniacs
while imitating his attacks,
the stadiums would overflow
to watch him land that trademark blow.

But age comes on with no holds barred
to leave a body frail and scarred
as weak as bulbs that don’t illume
each moldy, dingy motel room
he’s flopped in after every fight
since his defeat that fated night
just like the one they’ll find him in
when he at last can’t shake the pin.

Dropout

These letters that you’ve sent
make me loathe the time I’ve spent
in a void of discontent,

each simple heartfelt line
invigorates my spine
to somehow make you mine

and your images inspire
me to wiggle through the wire
with the data of desire,

but words cannot break through
this reservoir of rue
that roils twixt us two

and we will never clinch
for love is tough to cinch
when broadband starts to pinch.

Luminosity

Like photons through a fractured pane
I suffer disarray
attempts at unity are vain
but still I shine away.

The darkness tries to dampen me
beneath its dim dismay
degrading my intensity
and still I shine away.

Super

The warriors will take the field
their colors worn with pride—
behind a moving human shield
they’ll struggle to advance
a perfectly proportioned hide
beyond the stalwart stance
of a fierce defensive tide
and score enough to wield
the prize that proves they tried.