unrhymey

I guess I’ve not said a thing With sickness in my chest Who are the keepers of the thing? It wasn’t theirs This they stole But I would rather write to lend a merry hand If only I were so bold But given you (yes me too) Wearers true Are the very mold

Not Savvy America

All day every day Surveilling “Don’t be so paranoid” “It’s just a conspiracy” Still we smile for the camera Hungry lab rats CHEESE!

Twit

Which eye has not crossed A star stricken flight What was once under moon Now flooded with light

They

They are all around I heard a thing “That’s what they said” And “They are just like that“ I’ve said it before An I’ll say it again VOLDIMORT Is that the name? I don’t remember Who are they? Were “they” ever there at all? “You bet your ass they were“ “That’s just what “they” want … Continue reading They →

Some Love

Personification Of some desire The “me” that you know? Butterfly wings And hurricanes What a show

Inside Passage

Im sitting on the deck of a fishing boat Heading north A wanna be writer With no description. I could say That I’ve seen daylight dance like the aurora borealis Or had many tedious hours at the helm But it limits the experience. So if you’re young (or, even middling) If you can work hard … Continue reading Inside Passage →

Port

This place full of faces Do I see myself? Can I look behind your eyes And promise you good health?

Shrink

“You’re just displacing your interpersonal relationships onto the nation, as though the nation is what You perceive. The deception is far more clever.” “How do you feel about that?”

Bad Penmanship (the lost art of cursive or the letter)

Dear Grandma, I haven’t been good at keeping in touch for the past 21 years. I was a shit as a child, and never much learned to be empathetic to the needs of my family. Keeping in touch, and writing, is an art form. I never did do traditional education well. Putting punctuation proper etc. … Continue reading Bad Penmanship (the lost art of cursive or the letter) →

Picturing A Past; Or, A Future Air

There was a time Right here When the creek was the loudest thing Cb radio squawking, the scanner doing its thing The jets weren’t oft A car every 30 minutes or so A trip to town, took a plan You’d walk down main Hand in hand — If you stand there In some future time … Continue reading Picturing A Past; Or, A Future Air →