“This way to the cheese.”,
said the mouse in the maze
as he walked along walls with ease.
And daily he fed
’till the walls were removed
then he wasted away by degrees.
Category Archives: Original Poems
snafu
Grey matter and guts
and a bundle of urges,
mortality,
madness,
no wonder
the world.
Nothing Special
Screw them all,
I will make my own rhythm
and dance when my feet tap
without being told.
Who are they anyway,
nobody’s somebodies,
certified, sanctioned,
next wave of authorities,
packaged, presented,
thrust on us, sold.
What if I Should Fail and Fall?
When young they took my youth away
chaotic nights, uncertain days
I used my eyes, saw through it all,
but what if I should fail and fall?
Exposed, abused, then sent to hell
“for my own good, to make me well”
I set my face and fooled them all,
but what if I should fail and fall?
I grew, and strong, I took the reigns
got good at playing money games
I learned the rules then broke them all,
but what if I should fail and fall?
Five times alone did I do right
So here’s what keeps me up at night
my family counts on me for all
but what if I should fail and fall?
Upright
(tweeted 6.5.2014)
From seed to stalk
From crawl to walk
From health unto disease
In peace or strife
We choose a life
On our feet or on our knees.
Roadblocks
pedestrian roadblocks
an ambulance wails
the sound bounces
and with
car horns and clatter
blends into a single street sonata
somewhere
someone is waiting
minutes
or a lifetime
away
Looking Back
Looking back
We see simplicity
Regular lines of fixed length
The voice of our fathers
Incapable of modern expression
Trite
Ineffective
A phase best forgotten
The fodder of fools.
Yet I recall my father as a strong man
He wore a smile and had a booming voice
When he spoke the world itself would tremble
In fear or delight, it was always his choice.
Heads or Tails
Freedom carries chains,
restrictions on the will.
Enveloped in this enigma,
even apparent improv,
defined by choice,
once made, its power
manifests in slavery.
Kicking it Olde School
Fair Death come claim your feeble prize
no longer fit to haunt the earth
I’ll not resist, nor shall I tarry
’tis been my aim since ‘fore my birth
Squirrel
He stops mid-trunk with much to say
in taunting reach of dogs below,
perhaps disgruntled by their play
amused at how they move so slow.