20210131.0430

I see no red pill before me
And I am grateful
But no blue one appears either
To wake me or to bid me stand
Even if it seems
Morpheus pursues me
Even as I cannot answer
Yet

20210130.0430

It is
Of course
Going just as well
As I had thought it would
Which is to say
Damned poorly
I don't know why
I'm still disappointed

20210129.0430

They have often asked
Why do you study
That
Read old books nobody's heard of
Since they had to read in school
If even then
And they do not understand that
When I laugh
That is the answer

20210128.0430

I sit before you now
A decoration fitted to a page
Serving less a knight than another order
Duby might well name
And proud of my famous cousins in Exeter
No more than in schoolchildren's mouths
Where others of my kin are often found
Or of the things told in the dark over empty pockets
There and back again
Puzzle out who can my name

20210127.0430

Seeing dough slumping
Bigger than the pan's wont
Lumpen and splotchy where
Something has been folded in
Who would put it in their oven
Or think to turn on its heat
In the hopes that something good might rise?

20210126.0430

Petting Tom
His tail standing out
Looking bigger than remembered
Stroking keeps going
Until
At last
He relaxes

20210125.0430

Little bending willows
Their bark not hardened by the world
New buds just showing from them
Will they have to suffer
To ease others' pain?

20210124.0430

The heavy gray ceiling stretches over
Pale walls that seemed to reach higher before
Bleached while others darken in the sun
That does not shine so much today
But will again in times to come
And however much the skylight might be longed for
Then
Many will bemoan it

20210123.0430

The smell of the red sauce
Splattered about after
Hands have beaten and yanked on
The soft pale thing
Laid it out flat
And other smells that
Bring tears to eyes
Never seems to leave
Not even years after

20210122.0430

The music plays
The chair cradles my pale and flabby ass
I sip from a cup of coffee
Poured out from the stainless steel that hides under green enamel
And I struggle again to get the words out
Trying to use a screwdriver on a nail

20210121.0430

The flickering light that was long since kindled
And that consumed too much, too long,
Beckons once again, asks for followers
I feel myself starting to answer
Looking for paths back to bathing in what I thought was warmth
But learned to a cost that I still pay
Seemingly ever will
That it would be cold comfort if it were comfort
However learned I may be
I am a fool should I not flee
Again from that light I still see
And which shows no more good for me
The burning flame can do much good
But the gray ash left behind
Hides pain beneath it or
Watered
Makes the burning lye that
Is best used for soap
Cleaning away the clinging dirt
Too much of which yet lingers

20210120.0430

Another term will soon begin
And many think that they did win
While others look at it as sin
But Stupid God wears yet a grin
And too few wonder why

20210119.0430

There is a reason I
Never did much songwriting
Other than the fact
I cannot sing

20210118.0430

A chill breeze blows
Under looming skies
And I could see the beauty in them
If I could look closely enough
Long enough
But I have neither skill nor stamina
I am not so adept
Or so apt to last
For that consummation

20210117.0430

I asked if she wanted me
Sitting and watching
She said no
I let her go
Realized I had missed my chance
Again

20210116.0430

Toddlers with Tasers throwing their tantrums
And stunning into shocked stillness those
Who had been warned that harm would arise
If the locks were left open...Listen next time,
Grateful that you get another go 'round.

20210115.0430

Who will be next to scratch the itch of a trigger finger,
Bidding the blood flow in abundance?
I swim poorly enough in plain water;
I doubt I will fare better in the thicker liquid
Until it clots,
And even then,
I am like to fall if I try to stand upon it.
Many slip already who have so sought,
Ladies Macbeth who should have died hereafter
Far more worthily than those who did
And made the darkened carpet upon which many feet yet tread.

20210114.0430

They yet tread the steps called out for them by
The waning wrinkled citrus avatar of the Stupid God,
Fitting themselves to the small hands thereof and
Spasming orgasmically as they are molested by them,
Thoughts blotted out as they die their little deaths
Ignominiously

20210113.0430

The singer asks if
A greater thinking thing will give a damn if we were here
And the answer is
It already has
For the damnation of that thinking thing
Can only be the Stupid God
Dancing drunkenly upon the backs of those
Who prostrate themselves before it
And it is a large ballroom thusly floored
A vast proscenium rising overhead
And blooted out by its bloated mass
Fed too well and long
It gave a damn
That thinking thing
And we are here

20210112.0430

Sprinting once again and breathless
Heavy legs flopping forward
Jelly or sausages packed too loosely
A pudding, a lumpen gravy
No wonder it is so hard to make any distance, any speed

20210111.0430

The dancing flowers form their bouquet again
New blooms still sweet though spring is yet to come
But there is rarely winter here
And what there is is charming softness
Where elsewhere people die

20210110.0430

I can tell that I have not been running
My feet fall all too raggedly
And my wind falters too quickly
But I know what I have done
And I know what I can do again

20210109.0430

Today marks eleven years that I have been married to my most excellent wife. They have been the best years of my life to date, and they keep getting better. Really, only one thing needs to be said at this point, since I've waxed loquacious on the topic no few times before in this webspace:

I love you, my sweet sopapilla, and I look forward to many more anniversaries with you!

20210108.0430

It seems that every day's a fight
From the morning until night,
And in it, I take no delight,
Though I cannot well yield.

20210107.0430

Now more than a year has passed
Since that fine day on which I last
Stood at the front of the class
And thought that they would hear me
And I know I am better now
Though longing lingers yet, and how
Though I thought I did avow
It would not come so near me

20210106.0430

The sun is shining.
The sky is clear.
I wonder what
I'm doing here.
I'd get up, leave,
But I do fear
All that threatens
To draw near.
Far better that I
Stay at the rear,
Not be in front
In any year.

20210105.0430

The frosted palms stood
255,255,255 above the lights looking upward
And from what had come from above them
Coming to the point where water meets the main
Both pressing westward
The Mexican restaurant where everybody in town goes
It seems
Nestling behind the lot of them
And I could crave a sopapilla
Dusted white and sticky

20210104.0430

Galloping toward the pass
Where it cuts through the rising hills
An urgent message to convey
Speed from fear and not for thrills
Stones and arrows may rain down
It may be that a bullet drills
Into the rider going strong
And with that rider small hope kills

20210103.0430

Quiddling because
The only other thing I can do is
Nothing

20210102.0430

The wrinkled citrus avatar of the Stupid God may rot,
Its stinking, putrid flesh splitting at each spot,
And many will say that they it forgot
In times to come. But its stink already spreads
And wafts around too many giddy heads
To be ignored, and this they dread
Who seek for reason and for thought to see.
That the one is gone does not make free
Those who still are stuck and cannot flee
From congregants who would swap mask for crown
And in their seeking bring yet others down
Who otherwise might hearten every town.
That one avatar will flee does not bring ease;
Another comes, as is the world's disease.

20210101.0000

To celebrate now what Calcata lost
Stolen, jewel-crusted, decades ago
Or Baldwin's bought gift to Brabant
Seems less strange a thing than in previous times
Since any parties are likely enough now
To be cut short