Aerodonetics

To stand upon the precipice
that overlooks a gorge of bliss
encouraged by a zephyr’s kiss

and hazard the voracious void
in hopes of being overjoyed—
we fly reborn or die destroyed.

Skids

Observe: metallic mites proceed
along the avenue of greed
their glaring glassine eyes aglow
and creeping up on those too slow
oblivious to risks of speed
or having nowhere good to go.

Report: indifferent fools condemn
this race to shun what’s good for them
by paving under gray concrete
the verdant earth beneath their feet
so they can drive a gleaming gem
down a dead end street.

Broke

It’s tough to save when you’re a slave
surviving on the runny gruel
some handsome, haughty master gave
his favorite feisty fool.

You scrounge but never get ahead
(it’s tough to save when you’re a slave)
you’ll scramble for a crust of bread
they love to make you crave

to lure you right into a grave
there are more to take your place,
it’s tough to save when you’re a slave
a sliver of forgiving grace

within your anguished mind.
It’s an asset to be brave
but when you’re strapped you just may find
it’s tough to save when you’re a slave.

Count On It

Mathematics never lie
but numbers can be sly
the most pragmatic answer rests
in understanding why

for ignorance infests
what vanity divests
just look at all the would-be kings
beneath their fallen crests

as the victor's fanfare rings
(betrayal really stings)
subjective misconceptions won
by more self-serving things.

Get Cookin'

Life is like a can of hash
alot of filler, little flash
but if it's rendered properly
what a banquet it can be.

Common Sense

I need my own voice
so I can sing
the song of my choice
and let it ring

but also an ear
that finds the key
ensuring I hear
what sets me free

with keener sight
I might confirm
that pointless fright
makes one a worm

and using touch
I hope to find
the love of such
as my own kind.

Thankful

In search of even ground to tread
a clearer path on which to wend
extensive tours within my head
were quaint but never did ascend
I thought of all the poems I'd penned
and helpful things I tried to say
ironically though, in the end
it took a child to chart the way.

Justifiable

So many wander aimlessly
you can see it on their faces
they stand and dawdle shamelessly
incognizant of graces,

they prop their carts perpendicular
across the narrow aisle
and when you say “Can I slip through here?”
you get a vacant smile,

or when they swerve their vehicles
serenely cross the road
unmindful of the ventricles
that threaten to explode

and now that it’s the holiday
their kind are everywhere
holding up the lines to pay
completely unaware—

the world could use some levity
and clemency to boot
but block the way in front of me
and I may have to shoot.

Transcend

Don’t dwell on the line you forgot
just think of another to jot
the stars and the stories you plot
comprise the extent of your lot—

resist that reflexive restraint
when prepping your palette to paint
don’t let your timidity taint
your flicker until it’s too faint—

creation is crucial you see
to prove to ourselves that we’re free
and that deep inside you and me
is the essence of all we can be.

Cheesy

When did my compassion turn to varnish,
my modest mettle slowly start to tarnish?
I must search inside to ascertain my center
where moderation manifests as mentor;
serenity’s insidious asylum
can turn malign, corrupting healthy xylem
but was it Sheryl Crow or was it Buddha
that said – don’t long for Swiss if you’ve got Gouda.

Breakers

The ocean gnaws the shore
I bite back with my oar
a turbulent tug-of-war
as is the tide.

My valiant vessel braves
the brunt of warrior waves
though billions in their graves
already tried.

Upon our fluid fronts
the flow of battle stunts
advancement for the grunts
that die denied.

Icarian Idyl

An amber autumn sun
is sinking in the sky
like golden leaves that run
on winds condemned to die
as all the deeds we've done
despite how hard we try,

a higher court will try
us justly when the sun
explodes and life is done
or comets from the sky
condemn our lot to die
wherever we may run.

We've had a decent run
while learning how to try
though best intentions die
deprived of precious sun
when gloomy grayish sky
has ultimately done

its job, though hope's not done,
uncertain, never run
as boundless as the sky
above we long to try
to fly through but the sun,
if neared, will make us die;

but must we conform to the die?
a creed that hasn't done
one thing to stop the sun
yet promises to run
the circus better - they'll try
to patch the ailing sky,

when porcine pilots sky
above our heads (I'd die
to see the porkers try!)
but it just can't be done
and soon we all will run
from the fury of the sun.

Ever try to reach for the sky
to brave the sun you cast a die
deciding what's done - roast or run.

Just Me

Juxtaposed
Unmercifully
Somewhere
Twixt

Misguided
Expectations.

Written Out

All contact eschewed
and now she can’t feel
they call it a mood
like they know what’s real
the only thing that keeps her sane
are endless thoughts she can’t contain

and pouring them out
an inky curative
a spiritual spout
that compels her to live
until that unimaginable day
when there’s nothing left to say.

Digest

I keep one tasteful book
of Browning in my house
which must have been mistook
for brownies by a mouse!