Suffocate and complicate while you placate me.
Manage the damage and alleviate-
I know you see what you will, while you do what you do,
Just remember it isn't me, and we know it is never you.

Internally forever the external structure whithers.
While you attempt to suppress me, my light gradually flickers.
The realization may come too late-
No need for me to obviate
the situation nor spell it out.
You know as well as I do what is soon to come about.
"I told you so". once- you pretended to listen.
A ferocious song in the dark rings while my blue eyes glisten-
Yes! There is rage, quietly denied, deep down on the inside
my pride will not abide the pain.
Not again, not ever again, not ever.
In the end, there will be no choice but to sever,
the ties that bind my mind to your breath,
and those sweetest soft sounds a Shakespearean death,
whatever that meant- the river meanders,
toward the gulf of the ocean, and the notion,
you have about "always" is chopped by the waves,
while the wind screams no way!
You thought it was fate.
But it all came too late.

two pieces of paper
one that causes desperation
and one that soaks up tears

two pieces of paper
one you could wipe your
ass with without guilt
and one that you might
wipe your ass with but
then wash off to trade
for another piece of crap

two pieces of paper
a tissue and a dollar.

Crackling voices cackle
the way aluminum foil tears
the enamel from one's back tooth-

Bumps and excuse mes
crowd through aisle.
Bile pushes the steel carts.
Consuming like dragons the
card board boxes and tacky
plastic bags.

A belly-ache
for the beast paid for
in greenish-grayish paper
that looks like its been
stepped on or crushed up
some shopper's epithet.

I wish I could befriend Emily Dickinson.
The lady could turn a phrase.
Confined to her domicile
by choice her words praise
the natural spirit of God's creation.

Her meter has been called awkward.
Yet her style moved poetry forward.

I wish I could befriend Emily Dickinson
May her soul know she is often read.

Spray in the fall winds
washes summer dust away-
The berries bear finds
greet the black earth's
furrows o'er turned.

Wheat rushes to tell
the secrets of death to
the cattle grazing on
the last sweet grass.

Old crows soar against
a scorched sky soothed
by the scent of frost.

Summer pays for what time shall cost.
When the harvest is nigh childhood is lost.

The womb whispers.
Wanton words and wishes
welling up in my mind.

Move me to part.
Motion toward start-
Then stop and pull
but don't stop.

Until we free
nature.

The Law: "Res Ipsa Loquitur"

Arbitrary arbitration,
consequently consternation,
arguably augmentation,
of inevitable ineptitude.

Intuitive insinuation,
lengthening litigation,
justifying adjudication to
some baseless bastardization.

Contractually contradicted,
excruciatingly executed,
mediated and mentally mooted!
conveniently convoluted.

Legally legitimized,
scathingly scrutinized,
practically patronized,
the patriot personified.