Poetry
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When all the sneks have eaten And all the cats have yacked And all the laundry laundered I’m glad we don’t have dogs Yo. Poems.
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Where were you when it started? And where will you be in the end? Not asking for proof of a heaven or hell Not breaking a rule; maybe bend Rich men with their foolish endeavors Breathe fire like dragons of lore A family or two is a small price to pay When making a few
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What am I but a dot in the matrix A grain in the garden A salt speck in an endless ocean A pinhole upon night’s curtain (thanks Connery) A face in the crowd An ember to the fire A drop in the downpour A day in the life A vote in the congress A peanut
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This sucks but why not? If you knock up cousin Becky He will give your child a grand So they’ll begin investing But where TF d’you stand? If you rat out Joe The Gardner With those green thumbs on his hands You’ll have to mow your own lawn now But where TF d’you stand? If
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Hot-boxing Hot Wheels on a Friday night Summer sunset swallows the horizon as electric tears vow revenge Asphalt sizzles with each bullet, bleeding heat before the speeding beasts Windows hide first kisses and final goodbyes How silly you were Red & blue signal when Flee or face the phallus To peasant’s field or potter’s stone
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Saint Anthony The devil is knocking on your door Donning Christ’s mask Speaking angel; plotting sacrifice Blood in life’s river to satiate the politically hungry El Camino beckons the refugee Freedom becomes teased tickles on toes too horrified to stand Who wears who’s mask? Perhaps we seek answers answered previously, yet ignore its delivered wisdom
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Sinking, coddled; wrapped in memories past Chilled air on flannel days Burning leaves; tiny fires dancing in darkness for an audience of one None saw them same as you Shadows whisper, silence lingers; watchers in doorways, undetected Witchcraft slumbers through uncomfortable summer Sweat drenched, sun baked; gone, yet recalled with ease Awakening soon to the
The Gonzo Wolf 