Average Poet

Damage Control

2009-12-03T11:23:00.001-08:00

When things are going well
we seldom offer thanks
but when they go to hell
we scramble for those planks
and crawl about on bended knee
proffering a pathetic plea—

it isn’t God or life
that causes our chagrin
existence is a knife
on which we all begin
but if we choose to lie and hedge
we feel the temper of the edge.

At times it’s worth a nick
pursuing noble gain
but don’t become a prick
preoccupied with pain
for you can only go so far
before you leave a lasting scar.

Unseen

2009-11-30T20:00:00.000-08:00

I gaze at my mask in the mirror
employing the eyeholes to see
and realize I am no nearer
the person beneath that is me
the being I’m anxious to be

a vessel immune to resentment
with courage enough to forgive
the demons that hinder contentment
and all the frustration they give,
so I can finally live.

Gobblers

2009-11-28T18:56:00.000-08:00

We breed our beasts
with ample flesh
so all our feasts
expand our waste
as meat that fresh
insists we taste;

each unctuous bite
we choose to take
dispels delight
when shrinkage cuts
away the ache
of missing guts.

Oblivious

2009-11-25T09:33:00.000-08:00

He really doesn’t care
what other folk think
he just doesn’t care
and won’t even blink
at the thought
that someone cross with him
may want to make a stink
or nudge him towards the brink—
he’s swayed there long enough
to understand the drink
and know that if he takes the plunge
how quickly he’ll sink
beneath the roiling ink,
at least that’s what he thinks.

Nothing Matters

2009-11-24T09:30:00.000-08:00

Zero made it all compute
so we could pillage and pollute
the streams with toxic junk we spurt
yet never bother to dilute.

Nothing is (at best) inert
but necessary to convert
our concepts into glossy forms
that skirt the void with which we flirt.

To calculate the coming storms
or predicate accepted norms
you’ve got to start with emptiness
to see how truth performs.

Saccharine

2009-11-23T11:31:00.000-08:00

Everything I’ve written is a sham
a shadow of the failure that I am—
if only I could buy into the scam
that someone out there truly gives a damn

for any reason other than to spur
the image of themselves that they prefer
but frank critiques infrequently occur
when sugar-coated scribbles start to blur.

And Now for Something Completely Different

2009-11-13T10:02:00.000-08:00

***These song lyrics popped in my head while driving to band practice. I don't have a chorus or a title yet but just thought I'd post them to break up all this iambic BS I tend to reiterate. Enjoy!***

I was stuck behind a General Lee wannabe
Going slower than a tortoise with a banged-up knee
With all six cylinders fired up and ready to go
I found myself wishin’ he would pull aside
So I could rev it up and enjoy my ride
And let the lonesome highway take away my woe

When at last I spotted that dotted line
I punched the RPMs up to nine
And smoked that sucker like he was standin’ still
I was so busy haulin’ ass
I didn’t see the trooper watch me pass
With a radar gun and a gleam upon his grille

Well I was burning up the road
So bad I made his toy explode
Which prompted him to rapidly give chase
I shoulda pulled over and just been done
But all the excitement was kinda fun
So I figured I’d give that cop one helluva race

Reckoning

2009-11-12T15:03:00.000-08:00

An ebon tempest swirls across the sky
negating the serenity of dawn
along with any clever thoughts that I
may someday change my status as a pawn
and hinting that Apocalypse draws nigh
like hoarfrost creeping slowly on the lawn,
for scavengers are certain to appear
when chaos conquers all that we hold dear.

But when the sun ascends the crows abate
and roost beside that river to the west,
I labor for the nonce and calmly wait
until the day that I can truly rest,
oblivious to concepts such as fate—
a jester cannot change that he must jest
nor alter when that distant glowing ball
(like everything we know) at last will fall.

Pearls

2009-11-08T19:23:00.000-08:00

Words can be kinetic
laconic or frenetic
and those you should have listened to
so painfully prophetic.

Poised

2009-11-07T18:54:00.000-08:00

Each day as dusk descends
a motley murder wends
its way across the sky from west to east,
with eager ebon wings
these crassly cawing things
look greedily for scraps on which to feast;

we scurry through the rain
ignoring constant pain
unsettled by the hungry heckling call,
I’ve had my share of grief
don’t need to see a leaf
to know we’re at the apex of the fall.

Oddity

2009-11-04T09:29:00.001-08:00

I’m a curious kind of guy
I love the question – Why?
investigating mysteries
can get me kind of high.

I’m a curious kind of guy
too stubborn to comply
with any other theories
on kind of getting by.

At times I’m kind of shy
and others in your eye
awash in inconsistencies
I’m a curious kind of guy.

Inevitability

2009-11-02T09:37:00.001-08:00

Diluted resolve
begins to dissolve
deluged on this rock
condemned to revolve

until an event
of epic extent
delivers a shock
we cannot prevent.

Poll Dance

2009-10-29T09:39:00.000-07:00

Misguided Miley
thought she was wily
just like the big fraud she portrays
but most folk are smarter
than peacocks that barter
their essence to be the next craze.

Keepsake

2009-10-28T05:08:00.000-07:00

A colorful cardboard picture
in a modest wooden frame
of the classic stunning sunset
at a beach without a name
is all that I could salvage
from an unforgiving flame—
the only proper symbol
the inferno didn’t claim.

It shows a tree that’s leaning
toward a distant setting sun
as though in need of comfort
from a world it sought to shun
a lonely, brooding being
that had wearily begun
to humbly reach for heaven
before the day was done.

Our purpose is unfathomed
as is much of what we see
which makes belief an exercise
in forging your own key;
I know she’s out there somewhere
with the angels being free
and hope she’s found the solace
that this image brings to me.

***Well, it's been a year since my Mother's tragic and senseless death. I don't know why it happened and am still not over it, but have been slapped in the face with reality enough to know when it's time to just accept and move on (which is most of the time).

I've thought about everything, especially why I write, and have come to realize part of it was a secret inner dream that I could write something good enough to snap Mom out of her addictive spiral into oblivion, or maybe score big and have enough to send her to Betty Ford or someplace where she could truly heal. She loved books and always had her nose buried in one.

Alas, such just wasn't meant to be, and now it is quite pointless to dream thusly. Where ever you are, I love you Mom, RIP. ***

Clinical

2009-10-27T10:48:00.000-07:00

He stares at the slide
where cultures have grown
they struggled, then died
while he sat alone

observing their lot
and how they evolved—
he’ll plaintively jot
but won’t get involved.

Bereavement

2009-10-26T11:01:00.000-07:00

A year is just a sum
a fear we learn to face
a drear continuum
a mere expanse of space
austere as any come
that veer away from grace
a period so glum
no teardrop will erase.

Pegged

2009-10-23T08:01:00.001-07:00

A square by any other name
is still condemned to be a frame
for rules that constitute the norm
including how to swallow shame
and forcibly conform.

Twisted

2009-10-22T05:16:00.000-07:00

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

a world where any creature comfort can be bought
though all I see smeared cross the road
are hapless creatures caught
beneath the spinning wheels
of a jaded juggernaut.

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

a flimsy funhouse infinitely fraught
with clattering contrivances
designed to keep one taut
in order to forget the fact
it crumbles down to naught,

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

Leave

2009-10-16T11:24:00.000-07:00

The green recruits are weathered now
emboldened by the brawl
they weren’t informed but know somehow
tomorrow comes the fall

a brisker breeze begins to blow
as daylight slowly wanes
these telling omens tend to show
how little time remains

resplendent in their vibrant gear
they feel no fear at all
relieved to leave their torment here
tomorrow comes the fall.

Deduction

2009-10-15T09:54:00.000-07:00

I’ll stalk the boss’s dime all day
but seldom mind my own
I guess that’s why I’m doomed to stay
forever paycheck prone.

Equidistant

2009-10-13T11:32:00.001-07:00

The concept of infinity
is endless incongruity
inhabiting no single plane
with any uniformity,
exploring the enormity
that others shun in vain
an angle from which I can see
that nothing gets too close to me.

Rattling

2009-10-12T06:36:00.000-07:00

Antiquity will often choose
the truth of those that didn’t lose,
the spin that vanity commands
will shift as much as falling sands,
but bones beneath uncharted tracts
can ferret out forsaken facts.

Branded

2009-10-10T15:25:00.000-07:00

intelligent
People
Obviously
Distracted
senseless

Flagellation

2009-10-07T10:41:00.000-07:00

Whenever war is meant to be
I find the foe is usually me—
there is no banner white enough
to soothe this never ending scuff.

Dawn

2009-10-06T06:51:00.000-07:00

In the stillness of the morn
I can feel my faith reborn
protecting me from those that prey
upon my mind with scorn.

At the onset of the day
the darkness goes away
revealing crystal cobalt skies
devoid of any gray.

As the sun begins to rise
illumination helps my eyes
to recognize when truth is shorn
by endless compromise.

I choose to live not mourn
no longer am I torn
apart by doubts that fade within
the stillness of the morn.