every day
with him
was the last day
Tag: wisdom
age has
inoculated me
to human charm
genuine and feigned
thank goodness
shame comes staggering
unwelcome
through the bedroom door
when i consider the horrors
i once chose
to call love
Categories
40
you rationalize
justify
all you want
age 40
is the doorway
to the latter half
of your life
thoughts and prayers
and other useless platitudes
to those struggling to catch up
but
if you haven’t found your way by now
you never will
i have loved
owned a ridiculously big house
lived in the best school district
driven luxury cars
worn designer clothes
mounted men with huge cocks
and still i was left
wanting
unfulfilled
i was surviving
not living
because the only pure bliss
is freedom of choice
autonomy
the ability
to not give
a single fuck
Categories
a thousand times this
so much was lost
to lessons i had not yet learned
however
it is impossible for me to regret
wedding dresses unraveled
children i never had
thousands of miles traveled
had i given my whole heart
to those who came before
i would have nothing left
for you
beautiful man who has
redefined kissing as
your lips touching mine
redefined loving as
my hand holding yours
until the end of time
when life has taught you
all love ends
in pain
it becomes easy
to extinguish every flame
but not him
he’s my trick candle
he burns brighter
the more i try to blow
i have learned
to stop blustering
enjoy the party
and eat
the damned cake
it’s taken me
nearly forty years
to learn to say
NO
to fear
to vice
to vanity
to unhealthy people
to intolerable situations
so to hell with
fake it ’til you make it
i say
fuck it ’til you chuck it
Categories
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to spit or to swallow
the patience and wisdom
coming with age
are fast becoming
my favorite shoes to wear
.
as my own horseshit
and the shenanigans of others
become less excusable
with each passing day
every birthday candle wished upon and blown
.
there comes a point
when you’ve been told
you know better
.
repeated behaviors are either psychosis
or selfish forms of masturbation
such as the poets who write
their daily vengeance poem
scribbled in shit and crayon
on unsuspecting
psych ward facebook walls
.
god
grant me the serenity
to zip my lips when called for
.
to know when to spit
and when to swallow
.
but mostly
when to say
fuck off
dipshit
Categories
procession
when i was working in a mortuary
the most emotional moment
for me wasn’t during the funeral service
the toil in the prep room
as a body was embalmed
or when meeting with the family
it was the drive to the cemetery
when no one else was looking
behind the wheel of a hearse
second
in the purple flagged funeral procession
behind a police escort
mourner filled limousine right behind
a casket adorned with flowers
just past the velvet curtain
in my rear view mirror
keenly aware
nothing is trivial
i’ve painted all of it
on the ceiling of the library dome in alexandria
to study the profane scope
better understanding the history
the higher i ascend
through falling ashes
this is what i know
my interpretation of the pattern
you only acknowledge the sacred
as you seek to destroy it
you’re sick
pathological
oh
how
you take such pride in your trophies
heads mounted on the wall
all wearing your mother’s pearls
the manner in which your
opossum eyes delight
in fresh kill
wax romantic about your bloody left hand
as you arrange dead flowers
i’m impervious ever since
you gouged out my ability
to experience pathos