Golf
Two living corpses,
babbling about handicaps.
I hope both sides lose.
The living room folds
into itself, and I too
collapse in softly.
Dreams flood like sunlight
to kiss the back of shut eyes,
waking me gently.
This time you get to choose
How badly you want to lose
Exactly how you want to get screwed
And your choice in flavor and type of lube
So we’re watching this debate while
Arguing between who’s more immoral
Or senile
They won’t answer direct questions,
Just backpedal, deflect, lie, avoid
Or freestyle
So before I finish this drink and reflect
And think about how I’ve lost all respect
For the executive branch, and how I’m inclined to reject
Either of the two that remain that we’re allowed to select
I thought of letting my oldest stay up to watch
What could potentially be one of the last
Times before presidential debates become a thing
Of the past
Because what you’re watching live on your TV
Is possibly the beginning of the end
Of this great experiment
In democracy
*Shout out to the Washington Post
we drove by two old general stores last weekend
you know the ones, wood floors, dark, canned food,
little ice cream cups with little wooden spoons,
serving the needs of our backroad communities
(ours even had a post office and its own zip code)
they’re long gone now, of course, and it makes me wonder
do I enjoy the memories of them more,
or how easy it is now go to any box store and find my ice cream?
I’m running out of energy
I get drained so easily
I’ve always been so tired
I was born under a fluorescent light
At nine in the morning
It rained and rained
Trauma seeped and poured all over me
Such an oily thick tar
I wonder if the nurses worried
Or if they didn’t suspect a thing
I misjudged the length of a brief grievance.
Overtime my heart became a raisin.
What was once full of hope and wonder
calmed down and became somber.
What once was searching and excited
is sitting idle and often hiding.
What was young and exciting,
though ripe, once again can find life inticing.
But how can you turn a raisin back into a grape,
without new wrinkles or a different shape?
You embrace it.
You embrace it.
world weird, full of heat
& hatred quipping at our
heels hog wild &
bucking at the bits
what is peace? i want to
hold it inside me
There is an odd comfort in the universal craft
That is losing more life each day
That is inching toward out claimed graves
As we work to crave out our epitaphs
Life is building more lines of the obituary
It’s learning to befriend the Grim Reaper
Once those last sands of time trickle down
And the existential crisis matures into acceptance
Only then have we truly mastered
The intricate of art of dying
That is curating a legacy for those left behind
That is being continually reborn
In the lives we cultivated and the love we fostered
Our memory intensely illuminating
Shining eternally though the flames
We kindled in others
There is no true death
We are innately reincarnated
Through our immortal connection
With others
