….but the wells are turquoise green.
All the liquor is gone.
Fallen buildings and crater,
exposed sewage and
animal sounds,
I can’t sleep here.
Conversing crows look
down upon me.
Every Day, a poem.
Sometimes,
I trully wished that I was assembled.
To smile knowing I’m disposeable
and not be missed when I am gone.
Of course,
I remember my roots.
Black people can’t be judges
some think, because they should only
be dish washers and athletes.
My my, that’s the home of brave.
But when I literally shed tears,
I remember that the world is a wheel….
Maybe the robots will make them pay….
Learning Curve, a poem.
I’ve seen people
wondering the streets.
A man, yelling it was the end
of the world.
I would not have noticed him
hadn’t he had a huge dong,
fully erect.
I met a good friend from
elementary school.
It was great to see him,
until he pulled out a .22 and
robbed me.
I wonder at times if I’m lucky or
cursed, if I’m walking blind
into streetlights.
I will not call my
nights
ugly.
Faster than light, a poem.
I ran and ran,
but couldn’t catch him.
He dwindled,
his form growing smaller.
Did he run from me because my fire
and love were just too much?
Or was it my B.O.?
Was it too light or
did it kill his nose?
Next time,
I’ll be faster than light.
03.07.2022
On the West’s Response to the Russian invasion of Ukraine
I have a question: is it wrong to fight tyranny?
I think how the West has treated Russia’s invasion of Ukraine as – weak. That is, issuing sanctions, but still buying Russian oil?
You don’t continue to feed the war machine you’re trying to stop — you starve it.
….and the elephant that’s still in the room….
That being said, why are Republicans still pro-Putin/Russia?
Curious….
03.04.2022
I can not speak for another human being, I can only speak for myself.
I’m nearly always sad seeing someone homeless, or emotionally disturbed. Not just about their human condition, but also my own.
I’m always plagued by the thought “why doesn’t someone help them out?” Then of course I how I can help.
To me, giving money does help, but doing so just to make myself feel better isn’t good for my soul. And I am a man in pursuit of personal empowerment and that charity only makes people dependent.
Also, that homelessness, drugs, income inequality are symptoms of a failed American society and culture.
And if that’s true, then charity is somekind of abomination.
Missing balls, a poem.
Howdy, I’m the American male.
And I’m missing
parts of me.
My balls went missing when civil rights
protesters marched.
I thought they were right,
but I needed to get home before the
game started.
I work for a company that has a lot
of women employees, but none of them are
upper management.
I just got promoted, but the lady who trained me had more seniority.
I cheered when they stormed the Capitol, waving my red flag, assaulted a police officer.
I surely should find them,
they seemed important….
Don’t blink, a poem
leaves
changing their colors again
but I haven’t moved.
My feet have sunken into ground,
My teeth turned brown with rot.
I only closed my eyes for a moment,
now everything under the sun
is old.
02.19.2022
Troubling times….
I know my lack of hope for my country is low, so forgive me.
This sometimes distract me from writing, and in bordom, I wonder dark paths.
I mean, when you bring your own light.
As I wallow in self pity, do you like what you see in your country?
My self here, not one bit.
What would Captain America say?, Prose poetry.
….that Hydra has taken over,
wearing make America great again….
….black boys being gunned down sleeping on a couch….
….or eating ice scream after
a hard days work….
All in the name of America.
Would he be cool with denying abortions, (women, back in the kitchen with ya, he, he!).
Would he weep?
Liferaft in the Abyss 