We knew going in
our relationship
wasn’t a keeper
yet you stayed
around, when
I needed you most
taking my hands
pulling me close
so I could
lay my head
on your chest
get some rest
from the mess
that I’d made
of my life

Many years later
I have grateful
memories of our
profound connection
tho only a few
brief months
two lost souls
entwined, easing
each other’s
broken souls,
soothing our
anguish and pain

Dark Hours

I look normal
to anyone
that sees me
I usually sit quietly
often by myself
my scars are
all in my head
hard, reddened
I pick them
until they bleed
I can still smile
but inside I weep
for hours and hours

Call Me…

Before you plant your seeds,

Call Me…

you should first
 consult the Farmer’s Almanac
it’s a fact that certain seasons
are particularly hard on new growth
Do these numbers mean anything to you?
60 —-80        50——70    (20)
Could they have something to do with years?
or is this about water and how
many gallons those acres will need?
Does the number 1040 mean anything to you?
it’s 20×52
here’s a clue,
it’s the number of Sunday dinners
that you’ll have left with your child
if you are lucky enough
to still be alive
when they reach 20
since you had this child at 60
but isn’t that so trendy these days
to have a very young second wife?
especially one  that wants to make sure
that she does not miss out on anything
from the First Farmers Wives Club?
none-the-less crops cannot tolerate
too many years of drought,
not to mention tractor accidents
boll weevils and grasshoppers
impervious to pesticides
that would lay your crops useless
if the vegans knew
however, you will reap what you sow,
and you may not be there to see your
late spring harvest
especially if someone else
has already sold your farm

A Caustic Free Verse

That will most likely really piss some people off

Been meaning to
write this for years
trouble was finding
language strong enough

I am so weary of you two
with both your “in our face”
perverted sexual racism
actually, I’m so sick of you two
So I am ordering a duel,
like in the olden days
so, here goes…
turn around, start your paces
after the count of 30
turn and fire…

Emasculator, cunning bitch,
you get the Sig Sauer
Misogynist, slick bastard
you get the Glock

I am past trying to explain
or understand your behaviors
you both are toxic
one of you loathed your Mother
because she dressed you like a girl
and the other one of you
 abhorred her Father
because he hated that
she was not born a boy

you each have
wreaked havoc
on so many lives
looted, pilfered money
you never earned
confiscated esteem
caused such groveling
clipped decades of man hood
bottled up Cajones
set them on your shelves like trophies
you stole innocence
placed vases of
confiscated virginity
that you proudly displayed
on all the windowsills
in your mansions
with a smirk on your face

you’re both like the
priests and politicians
who believed they
never would be caught
you both damaged, ruined
so many pure hearts
prevented them from ever
feeling any self worth
whatever  reasons your
minds became so fucked up
doesn’t matter any more
it all ends today

I guess you think
I’m just kidding
tabloid photographers
are standing by
licking their lips
news stations are waiting
unaware, that a lone sniper
sits high in a tower
ready to take out
whichever one of you
is still standing
you have no idea
how much I will love
seeing you both lying
lifeless into the dirt.