Sit!

I looked up and howled

“Please end this slump!”

The universe growled 

Like a dog in a dump

I looked down and sighed 

My chances quite small 

To calm this canine

With no leash at all.

Outlier

Intensely aware 

Of the microscope's glare

He stays on his own little slide

Away from the germs

And uncertain terms

Where others tend to reside

If he must interact 

He keeps an exact

Extension of distance between

Himself and the lot

So anxious to plot

A way to be rude or obscene

Mutations occur

And boundaries blur

As data reveals hidden trends

He'll study it all

Through his test tube wall

Until the experiment ends.

Sparse

The longest day, when light should linger 

Suddenly turned dark

And nothing could eliminate the pall

Which made it hard to place a finger

Anywhere near the mark

Of what had dimmed that twenty-four carat ball.

I stood upon a hemisphere

That currently was warm

But knew tomorrow shivers would arrive

Another less-than-fruitful year

I guess it’s just the norm

To forfeit more the longer you survive.

Crash Course

“I’m here to make people feel better.”

He said with an insincere grin

I could tell by his haughty demeanor

His concern was the eighteenth pin

 

And not the impending procedure

This doctor insisted I need

While touting his role as a healer

But not his addiction to greed

 

They said, “You’re the last of this session.”

Then rapidly reamed out the guck

And gave me an indelible lesson—

How it feels to be hit by a truck.

 

 

To The Quick

I see the age in my hands

As truth impales my heart

Eviscerating my soul,

We honor those who depart 

Their fate beyond our control,

The balance has its demands

And isn’t concerned who feels whole,

The ache in my heart expands

As hope and I slowly part.

Dawning

It seemed that time stood still last night

Which really was a shock,

I smiled, until I saw the light:

The battery died in my clock.

Enemy of The State

Oh little purple flowers

It’s time for you to go

Forgive me purple flowers

The mower's got to mow

I'm sorry little purple flowers

You tried your best to bloom

But those obsessed with civic powers

Have brought about your doom.

Aground

I tend to shun flip-flopping

For once I’ve chosen a course

I follow without stopping

And jettison remorse

But those who keep returning

To familiar shores

Will never feel the churning

Of a daring heart that soars.

Half Full of It 😁

Believe it or not, I was once young

Before comprehending how much regret stung,

For sadly today, it’s all I can do

To not live my life in perpetual rue—

I fail without fail, so I guess you could say

It’s a whimsical tale of success my own way.

Outlet

It seems the flow hasn't faltered

Although the path was altered

To roll through various states

Where an ocean of love awaits.

Post Flood

You can keep it flowing

And see where it’s going

Or stop the progression

With your intercession

Just like Ye Olde log jam

But bark will make bitter

Where there was once glitter

To leave a mud bath

In the aftermath—

Who gives a damn!

The Old Fire Spot

She was your match

You dreamed of fire

And gave her a scratch

As sparks flew higher

But here’s the catch

All flames expire

The embers grow cold

And you feel the chill

Of no one to hold

Who gives you a thrill

Which makes you less bold

With a withering will

The days blur by

You live with your lot

No point to cry

You took your shot

So many things die

At the old fire spot.

One Less Time

It’s okay to be flat

When playing for those

Content to remain on the plain.

In key? None of that!

But someone who knows

Is begging you, please, to refrain!

Counter

We don’t see each other much these days 

He's busy being a teen

While I grow more set in my ways

And reluctantly careen

Right into the golden years

Despite the tarnished sheen

As he encounters grinding gears

Within the old machine

And hopefully he’ll figure out

When dangling between

Their dogma and internal doubt

To always use his bean.

Getting Burned 🔥

My heart is filled with fire

Though you don’t feel the same 

Amused by my desire

You fan the futile flame

Through a twisted wire

But this is not a game

The circumstance is dire

Despite your lack of shame

I make room on this pyre

For you to finally claim.