Broken Hearts

23 Oct

Why is it we never seem to grow tired

of hearing, reading, singing about the broken hearts

the yearning for a love that can never be

woe is me, woe is you, woe is the hole in the sole of your shoe

a broken heart can never mend

oh never mind, you could never understand

how much I loved you, needed you

smothered you in a blanket and crammed you in my closet

so you could be mine forevermore

the creepier it gets the more we like the story

of a sad unrequited night under the stars and Moon

perhaps they would understand what humans would not

how awful life is, how full of disappointment and drama

woe is me, woe is you, woe is the hole in the sole of your shoe

We can never get enough of the story

No resolution, only lonely

until we all become empty with pleading eyes

vampires yearning for what can never be theirs

It gets weird, and it gets sillier with each retelling

This saga of the broken heart that can never mend

Here lies the Taboo

23 Oct

Down deep in the dark

Where we are digging the dirt

Dancing the Hoodoo and singing the blues

Here lies the Taboo

The Voodoo of our Desire

All of our molecules get all tangled up

Into some kind of spooky strand

of funky DNA

making us sweet with sweat

and happy with play

Here lies the Secret Happiness

the thing they never told us about

Here lies the Taboo

The Voodoo of our Desire

We rise into the air

We jump into the fire

We embrace the dirt

and invite the water to deliver us

from our self hatred

and find a Sacred Acceptance

where least expected

Down deep in the dark

Where we learn what was never taught

The sensation is the same

22 Oct

They are installing fresh pipes

beneath the street nearby

the steady pounding reminds me

of the steady pounding of

artillery fire upon a helpless village

Kobani or San Francisco

The sensation is the same

I sent out a message seeking contact

to which there is no response

there are so many issues involved

negotiations are needed

but all I see is an empty sky

Kobani or Facebook

The sensation is the same

Encircled by a ruthless lack of compassion

We try to give attention to the sacrifice

Kobani or Anywhere

The sensation is the same

I hate it when

22 Oct

I hate it when people drift in and out

like flotsam and jetsam

whatever that is, that is them

I hate it when I push my love inside

and regard my feelings as unimportant

I hate it when I hate

it poisons me

I don’t like to regret anything

and yet sometimes I wish

I could just stop everything in it’s tracks

and scream out

Why do you and why do I

Why does anything bother to exist

If it only becomes a meaningless

drifting pile of junk

I hate it when I reach out

and discover nothing whatsoever is there

We are like shadows

I hate it when I think that I am so important

that God should take notice

There are those who genuinely need love

I need to drift downstream

until I reach the vast ocean of my true being

Who has patiently sat as these fingers

typed out these painful emotions


What kind of Shazam!?

21 Oct

What kind of Algo Rhythm could set things right?

What would some sort of Hocus Pocus reveal?

What kind of Shazam!?

Can turn a boy into a man?

It used to be that the truth was the truth

but now there is a spin and a spit and a polish

to every shoe that drops

and besides…

Lies are so much more entertaining

unless they are about you

What kind of Uber Soft Sock Socket could reassure?

What Airbnb could find some room for someone

such as you, all tangled up in your choice

Is there a code, a sign, a fine you could pay

To get the tweets to fall silent

What kind of Shazam!?

could usher in a new world?

so we could leave this crummy old place

for which we long ago lost the keys

I like beginnings

20 Oct

I like beginnings far more

than I do endings

Beginnings are full of promise

and sometimes I worry I may be late

for the beginning

and find myself at the end


Beginnings cannot be repeated

and I think we all know how tedious it is

when we try to begin again and again

I like beginnings because

all is equal and clean and pure

nobody gets to brag

nobody gets to feel sorry for themselves

for we have just begun

we have made our move

and the next one won’t be quite as much fun

as the last one

as the entropy sets in

and the world winds down

I sure do hate endings

don’t you?


A new kind of body

19 Oct

What if I had a new kind of body?

one that was just what it is

and my body and your body

was nobody’s business

but our own

a body that might not be up to the task

but would do it’s best

and that would be enough

a body that shared itself

when invited

and extended invitations itself

openly and happily

with no strings attached

and no judgements given

wouldn’t that be a great body to have?

Imaginary Problems

19 Oct

Imaginary problems

and invisible injuries

can cause real pain

and prevent us from seeing

the truth

We all do so much more damage

to ourselves

with our own two hands

than by all the knifes, guns, and hammers

wielded by all the fictional villains which

haunt us

needlessly, foolishly

we torture ourselves

over things that never actually happened

but were only imagined

Let us wake up to the truth

of the flawed but nevertheless beautiful


that we actually are

Well what do you know?

18 Oct

Well what do you know?

I just beat Old King Cole

over the head with a Tootsie Roll

I took Old Mother Hubbard

on a trip to Nantucket

where we ate all the oysters we could stand

Well what do you know?

I spent last Monday sittin’ on a stump

with a plump little rabbit

and a cranky crow

Sometimes I just wish I could wander

eat my crackers and stare at the girls

like the dirty old man I am

but well what do you know?

gotta go out into the world and make a buck

dreaming of what I could squeeze

and what I might suck

or who I might beat with a Tootsie Roll

Would you look at that?

18 Oct

Would you look at that?

She has a tattoo of a butterfly just

below her pelvic dimples

Bursting out fresh and new

at the crack of dawn

Would you look at that?

a bus that looks like a boat

cruising around a beach

that is filled with streets

not a proper beach at all

Would you look at that?

each moment a perfect picture

of a particularness of purpose

put together to tell me

it isn’t serious

Would you look at that?


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