The Impasse

I am fed up with the impasse

I long to attack

I am stuck with my demons

You know I have this knack

—

I saw a girl this morning

But I was too shy to ask

I just smiled and moved on

Found wanting on the task

—

I am too anxious on my anxiety

I have begun to doubt my doubts

I am a boxer with a beer belly

Who can barely survive his bouts

—

I am a rhymer and a chimer

I write these words with ease

I scribble and I jot them down

The poetry will never cease

—

I think I am a spy

Then they told me I was bad

I thought I was a genius

Then they told I was just sad

—

I spent too much time chasing glory

I spent too little time standing still

So now alone again I stand

Asking who what and will

 

 

A Ruminating Irishman

I am irish with a tan

with panache, chutzpah and elan

I am the rebel without a plan

In the troubled waters a black swan

—

I am churning out pretty rhymes

Without looking at the time

I took a shot and it ended fine

Now I have to get back hold the line

—

If by chance you chose to stay

Read my verse and dream away

You may wonder what come on me today

I chose to ruminate and so to weigh

They shoot lame horses here

They shoot lame horses here

When the horses can no longer run

When they can no longer justify their feed

When the race tracks stop having fun

–

They shoot lame soldiers here

They just do it in a different way

They deny insurance they delay medication

They are filed and forgotten away

—

They shoot lame poets here

When the poets start to disagree

They meet and nod and all say

We need calm and stability

—

You wait and watch for

the shooting to end

the bloodlust and the hate

to dissipate

—

You got chips and

the markers for the winners

You dont care

for the marching saints or sinners

—

You dont care if the game is bent

As long as your horse continues to win

You would rather fix the odds

You would rather continue  to lean in

The Goldfish

Where do goldfish go when they die?

Do they go to the glass bowl in the sky?

Who meets them there when they arrive?

Who judges them for how they lived their life?

—

Where do goldfish go if they sin?

Do they go to hell without a fin?

Do they reach glassbowl heaven if they repent?

Do they feast at Christmas and fast at Lent?

—

Do the goldfish even understand?

Who feeds them is not God but just a man?

The manna from heaven is just a show

Do goldfish think and what do they know?

—

What does a lonely goldfish feel and love?

Does it hope from the sky above?

What does it do when enough is enough?

Goldfish does not live only by fish food rough?

—

Do the goldfish have a soul today?

Could they speak if they had tongues to pray?

What would a goldfish do if it could choose why?

In a bowl it lives and in a bowl it dies

 

 

 

Now he is dead

I am awesome at writing

Slugging jabbing fighting

Bad at reading

Slowly speeding

Especially reading people

Climbing the church and steeple

And their signs

Their tricks and lies

Awesome is not a word

It’s not a plane it’s not a bird

It’s a habit for me

Is it too hard for you to see

Yet I have my cold days

My crazy awesome merry ways

When I am down in my mood

I seek solace in wine and food

While you go away and shake your head

Used to be awesome now he is dead