Dump

This one is a so and so
that one has the clap
you know who loves to blow
it’s all the same old crap—

we find relief within a stall
inscribing impishly
our childish rants upon the wall
the hubris of ennui.

The Pits

The fruit of my labor is barely a snack although the exertion is crushing my back perhaps I should nurture that shiny green seed to harvest a bounty beyond what I need.

Anchored

I had a big bowl of sadness for breakfast today
which quickly grew soggy in milk
then clung to the edges all mushy and gray
like fortified fare of its ilk.

My coffee spoon became the moon
a face of stone, collision prone
another spin let sweetness in
while saucers sipped each wasted drip.

The Weatherman said everything looks sunny
so finish your milk and pass the honey
for things are seldom as bad as perceived;
digesting this news left me slightly relieved,
I sloughed off the guilt for the wars that we've fought
and left for the day, my mooring lines taut.

Evolving

I watch my feathered friends robustly dive
begrudging how completely they’re alive
while grounded here beside the daily grind
their playful antics help me to unwind
and show me how to possibly survive—
by grasping adaptations well designed.

Hurting Horatio

If only you knew what you think you know
you’d be quite a dangerous dude
but you’re not too slick when you put on a show
in fact, I’d say you’re just crude
and seldom, if ever, does anyone dare
to challenge the will of a brute
except for this person, who has yet to care
when you give your honker a hoot.

Brain Trust

Simplicity is so profound
but simply seen as dense
the rarest thing of all, I’ve found
is good old common sense.

Pennyworth

We all are dead
the day we’re born
but strive instead
to face the morn
with firm resolve
to improvise
a way to solve
the compromise
despite the scorn
of copper eyes.

Drought

I dropped the bucket faithfully
but didn’t hear a splash
I let the rope out all the way
right to the final lash;
with trepidation I look up
to see an empty sky
and hope for rain because it seems
the well is truly dry.

Turning the Worm

I’ve prayed for selfish gain
but nothing came about
which turned indignant pain
to sprouting seeds of doubt.

I’ve begged for distant parts
but changes never came
as scarred indifferent hearts
have chosen who to blame.

I plead and will continue to
for something to confirm
that faith is not a crutch for those who
wonder as they squirm.

Whoosh

Abbreviated incidents of unexpected calm
amidst the fleeting whirlwind of strife
accentuate the poignancy of life
with the brevity of their balm.

Freak Show

There are bastards that are blessed with wit
braggarts who are full of shit
monkeys that don’t have a clue
but do what they see others do,
scoundrels with uncaring hearts
mechanics seeking proper parts
doctors wearing thoughtful masks
anesthetized throughout their tasks,
plumbers wielding rusty wrenches
homeless people hugging benches
while thumping stumpers multiply
to reinforce the freedom lie,
activists stir up the rabble
evangelists benignly babble—
the carnival keeps passing through
as dreamers jot a line or two.

Clear?

The less you share
the less you bear
but loneliness
can cause despair
so always dare
to try and care
with openness
like crystal air.

Susceptible

To regulate excess
the perfect paradigm
so simple sounding, yes?
But pleasure’s not a crime
and often, all we heed
afflicted by our need.

Igor I Presume?

There is no piece of paper to confirm I have a brain
no sticker on my auto from the ivy clad domain
no pin or ring to grant all access to the secret club
which makes me perfect to assist the snobs that love to snub
(provided elbows never rub).

Going with The Flow

I’ve walked beside the creek
when the water was alive
and heard the rapids speak
of their struggle to survive
the folly of ambitious fools
who seek to dam them into pools
and damn them with their rules.

“Relax” I tell the frenzied froth
“You’ll still be here tomorrow
arrogant degrees of sloth
will soon turn into sorrow
unlike your fluid grace,
to eliminate this race
without a trace.”