FACEBOOK

 Hey Facebook, you're utterly boring.

Hay Facebook, my worst traits imploring.

Hey Facebook, getting likes is scoring.

Hey Facebook, feels like whoring.

Hey Facebook, the worst you're adoring.

Hey Facebook, the fetid marsh boiling.

Hey Facebook, our integrity spoiling.

Hey Facebook, your hinges need oiling.

Hey Facebook, no wonder you're toiling.

Hey Facebook, your undies are soiling.

Hey Facebook, I'm crocheting a doily. 

I want the world to see it.

Thank you.

This Poem Will Self Destruct

If you want to make other people happy

unrecovered trauma is spurring you on.

I want to see others happy,

but I do not want to be the means.

When I see turmoil, I want to help

but to come out of hiding, no, 

that is just not possible.

But I could shoot light ray prayers,

thought vibes that can lift and encourage.

But I won't leave this cave;

please don\t ask me to leave this cave.

Here is meditation, here is retreat

and the quiet sounds of nature.

When I do come out I can stay present

only long enough for you to believe.

But when gaining substance

the chills fear in my soul. 

When I did this before 

things fared not well.

When I thought I was real

it was easy to pretend

But now I am unreal

and to gain reality 

will be my end.

The end.

Again.

The Bear

I would like to hibernate,

to go underground for a long time,

slow my heart to an aching throb

and my breathing to a wisp of air,

entering and leaving.

I would like to have hair like a rug

and big paws meaty with claws

to rip bark from a tree.

I would pull myself into a cave,

rocks and moss and the fresh earth.

And I would have stuffed myself for months

on carrion and slugs and a moose

I had tracked and pulled down 

with my strength.

And then I would sleep but 

not like I do now

but in a half trance maintained

so I could wander the planets

and use my unusual gaze.

Sid and Nancy

 We love our knives

and the whetting of blades

and blood;

there's always blood

amidst confusion,

blood and confusion.

No one understands 

that the next incarnation

will be perfect,

better, cause it's always better.

What we achieve in the flesh

is always stretching

to find the new climax

and if in exhaustion

we collapse in mindless violence,

somewhere within what we lose in pain

is the concept of maximum pleasure gained.

With Each Other

The time has almost come

and what are you waiting for?

The moon has turned to blood

and the dancers are standing guard.

Lights have reached the stars

and they have donned their masks.

And we sit.

And we sit

admiring the night and 

our last chance. 

Destruction is beautiful,

sounds and colours

lacking imagination

are just and only themselves

as you and I are only ourselves

and with all else gone

what shall we do

what shall we do 

with each other

Too Many Straights

 I'm playing games to keep me sane

But still I'm going crazy again

Too many straights

serving up plates

of the same old me vs you stew.

If I dive off a cliff

you'll catch my riff

but then forget very soon.

preoccupations will come

soothing you dumb

innocuous to events of that day

I'll not bother you

I'm just passing through

This world is not my home

I'm still searching

Watching

Nothing left to day, to say

as the starlings line the wires

and chit chat and call with whistles

and clucks. People are stalking

with manic needs that never

will be satisfied. But I cannot

do a thing anymore except watch.

They think I'm demented and 

maybe I am but I know what

to do and what not to do and

to not say anything. Even the 

cold north wind with skin biting

teeth is my welcome guest. As

is the stray dog, the raccoon and 

the crazy man who yells at night.