Futzing with an American flag hat
There’s a story
A history
He doesn’t want to share
Yet he’s proud
He wipes his chin
And sighs
His body is hobbled
With years of injuries
And drinking
His wife’s voice is shaky
She’s been taking care of him
And it’s tiresome
It’s constant
Their conversation is minimal
Small talk
Like strangers
Doctors appointments
Drug stores
It’s a hamster wheel
In his early days he was a man of steel
Now its just a callous of how he feels
Copy paper of his life was once bare
Now filled with regrets he can’t bare
Ichi Katauta: “First Value: Love of Closure”
harlequin stage, left
vibrance peels a tapestry
the wilted absolved its grounds
Ni Katauta: “Second Value: Love of Survival”
squirrels store the scavenged
empty nests v-shapes southward
healthy surrenders the weak
Sedokada: “Sixth Evaluation: Love of Perpetuity"
bunnies graced the moles
foxes leap at the snowbound
bears, closeted in caverns
finesse touch canvassed
barren wastelands abiding
instants of sunlight’s promise
Hegseth’s hateful inked tattoos stink
Women all know he's rinky-dink
As his antidote
He’ll rescind girl’s vote
But undressed now Peter does shrink
Last night a powerful force
was juggled between ocean-going butterflies.
A little ripple in Bermuda
blew its lid in Indonesia.
People died and survived to be recalled
by the living in the morning.
Dreaming hands built beer-caves
for their foamy drools,
fingers raised hedge funds.
Ripples sex-blitzed
elderly spinsters with an erotica,
that made their eyelids flutter.
Personally speaking,
somewhere before dawn
I became a Russian novel,
there was snow, there was a steam-train,
Cossacks arrived, blood was spilled,
the dead fell asleep in my bed.
The doc prescribed a medicine
To make my bones grow strong.
It seems they’ve lost some density
As life has rolled along.
I’ve had the pills for quite a while
But haven’t taken one,
For I’m afraid soon after,
Side effects will have begun.
I read what all the experts say
From clinics quite well-known –
The Mayo and the Cleveland,
Which report what tests have shown.
I’d be better off without the facts
These places have prepared,
For learning what can happen
Only makes me much more scared.
I’ll try some yoga and will boost
My calcium to still
Any qualms about my bones –
That seems much better than a pill.
An excerpt from my new short story:
After Adolf received Alois' final inheritance in 1913, he moved to Munich, Germany. During his Vienna years living in squalor, Adolf was keenly interested in the makeup of Vienna's multicultural society. Those living in the upper class were a mixture of cultures. Mostly made up of Jews. However, at that time, negativity stemmed from all the races. During his last years in Vienna, now as a young adult, the dark lord remained diligent. Adolf had a circle of friends who were Anti- Semitics.
National Socialist German Workers Party, better known as the Nazi Party. The dark lord's student has advanced himself towards a teacher's status. He is still on the ropes but is ripening from green. He has exceptionally distinguished himself as a notoriety. His prospectus holds assurances. Hope builds a future as evil takes the lead and lays down the foundation.
Rippling water brings calming effects
The oceans calming effects allow me to see my life in a different perspective
My hands used to be able to hold dishes, gently.
But now, the dishes wink at me and shatter.
Tremors are starting.
I knew it.
I’m not scared or angry.
I grab a pen.
Writing before it overtakes me.
Roaring sounds.
Whirling sounds.
It’s all within.
So I write about that.
The floor tugs and pulls.
I’m on the second floor.
I can’t let it happen, yet.
I write “the end.”
Then I let it happen.
Smiling like a cracked plate that knows its fate.
Shaking, and it’s my hands.
Paper tumbles from my hands.
But never crumples or folds.
Tremors.
My poem ends and the tremors continue.
facing disorders at an early age is "your" fault
this isn't what i learned, what i was taught
thinking of the memories my disorder has brought
"this is normal", that's what we thought
i talk to someone, they label me as crazy
i'm just begging for someone to save me
now they only see what i want them to see
the color red stains my favorite tee
i try and try, but get nothing in return
how will they feel when tables have turned
i think of the acts of people i've learned
they fake and pretend to be concerned
depression? anxiety? bipolar? here's some medications
they won't heal my thoughts of temptations
no one understands, no one's in relations
being numb is the new sensation
putting the blame on people for how they are
it's only going to push them so far
thoughts are hanging as high as the stars
do you know how you're making them feel?
the emotions they had, their disorder will steal
no one can save us, nothing left to heal
now nothing seems real
Immersed in His Paschal Mystery
our Original Sin is --history!
Divine Power comes forth from His Heart
Giving sanctification a start
Now alive in Christ, but dead to sin
'cause death no longer has dominion!
[References: Romans 6, Colossians 2, CCC 1116, What We Believe: the Beauty of the Catholic Faith (Ch. 11), and the Divine Mercy Image.]
With Biden and Xi hand in hand
Fentanyl precursors are banned
What’s the surprise
As costs of a high rise?
The incentive for crime will expand!
Author’s note: I expect many more of us will be burglarized, robbed, and assaulted. What’s the harm in focusing on treating addiction?
Cautions & portions
Obstruction & destruction
Rules & fools
Obligation & deprivation
Nervous & resurface
Alterations & expectations
Voiceless & choiceless
Isolation & seperation
Radical & fanatical
Uncertainty & disharmony
Solitude & disquietude
I had the strangest of dreams
They happend in the land overseas
Usually called the land of the free
Even though I have never been
There were familiar people and daddy issues
My father tried to pick some prostitutes
Then puked on my bed
In real life he is a strong christian
Familiar sins , disorders, secrets and bad feelings
My childhood crush was trans sexual
I did her like I Wanted to impress her
Rubbed her dick then did the deed I was Into that
I felt some shame but I am glad it happened
I see no sin in that except the things we do for love
In real life my girlfriend is sleeping cute like a bear
It is so sad there really is no God here
A whole dispenser water bottle was full of Bourbon liquor
Ash on the table it looked like we had a party it was clear
In real life am not even American
Yet My dreams happen in America
Is this just media or am I going to need a doctor
Is it just Netflix plus Pornhub and a dirty crush on Contra
It is just media and maybe I should keep the trauma
Gives me nice poems from a America
In real life it's 2am in Kenya
who from hate is strengthened
either kills others or kills himself
with time passing
Related Poems