poemetry

it would be awesome
to blame it all
on you.
in fact,
i think it would be….

with each passing day
i’m grateful for
each passing day
that i am still here.
one day will pass….

tens of millions of dancing sperm
surround the Egg of the Month,
each demanding to be the future.
EotM tolerates the rabble for a time,
and then: You. You’ll do….

hope is not my friend.
i understand very well
the ways and nature
of that ugly fucker, fear.
that bastard lets me know….

that’s the way that
the world goes round,
sang Prine, and he was
mostly right.
but sometimes….

my 42-inch monitor
sits directly across
from where i sit.
the power is off.
my face reflects clearly….

as God was finally leaving
this universe behind,
He turned and look back
(as He had zapped
Lot’s wife for doing)….

human life
is much too hard….

my pain is real.
my anger is real.
the question is:
how does the one
flow from the other?

i really wish
being tired
was an actual
and defensible excuse;
i’d be set for life….

the audience grows smaller
and i try to convince myself
the audience was never
the point of the exercise.
i refuse to believe that crap….

given that everybody
is going to die someday,
and i do mean everybody;
and given that everything
is going to end someday….

you say you’re tired of it all
after, what?
four months?
five?
but what if….

some mornings
i wake
and i remember –
i dreamed,
and i forgot….

one of the most important
things i do each day,
mandatory for my happiness
and general well-being,
is to fool myself….