Category: Poetry

the bus is late
I’m out of time

the stewards of reality
are having a meeting
about my destiny!

here I stand
waiting…

waiting for the
fucking bus
…again

How R U?
she asked

I replied:
“That’s a
complex
question.
I don’t
know
how to
answer that.”

I stare
at head-lights
approaching

deceptive
deceivers
at the door

no one’s there

altered perceptions
a hint of truth
a touch of revelation

the elusive truth
of dreams

rage
arising from
ashes
overwhelming
intense

how long
has it been
fomenting?
when was it
conceived?
yesterday?
years ago?
birth?

a prisoner
behind bars,
a hostage,

…in my home

there is no jailer,
there is no guard,
there is no lock
upon my door,
I am free to leave

…I am not free…

do this
do that
by this date
then
I will
be happy,
successful

evaluating
variables,
criteria,
shaping the
outcome

existence,
a shell

armies
endless
mindless
emotionless

shallow rivers
of thought
lurk beneath
vacuous skies

crystal ball gazing
memories dance
sway frantically
tormenting
frenzied senses…

mindfulness
mindfulness
mindfulness…
whispers wisdom

Slow!
…down

breathe

thoughtfulness,
mindfulness,
awareness
…
anxiety approaches
depression awakened
…
breathe!
breathe

the cry of
a cricket
pierces
the stillness
of the night,
symphonic,
acute,
the steady rhythm
of his music
washes over me

…I cough…

a quiet
darkness
arises

Some people have opinions about
every god-damned thing
underneath the fucking sun,
I have no time for opinions
by capitalist sexist assholes,
for they are the worse sort of
opinions I hear.

“A woman’s place is at home.”
“A woman’s only good for fucking.”

Some people don’t know
when to shut their fucking mouths.

the goddess
bathes in her
private stream,
I hold her soul
and kiss her feet

a gnome
guards the cave
and cleans
her throne

It’s a Monday night
and there’s nothing to do,
alone in my apartment,
I can’t think of any woman
to keep me company,
unemployed,
no job to worry about
no job to bitch about
no job to drive me crazy,
watching the frost formations
on my window
and I’m out of beer.

1.

She sets the table,
methodically, slowly,
unbearably tedious,
you sit shuffling silently
waiting for the call:
“Supper’s ready!”

2.

Greedily hurrying grace
so you can stuff your face,
tender meat, hot steaming rolls,
vegetables reluctantly eaten
to get to dessert,
finally, the wait is over:
“Dessert!”