my best friend knows my stories, has my back, laughs with me
He and I share two dogs, they are our babies, Maxie and Maddy
We are silly enough to call ourselves their mommy and daddy
Been together for fifty-seven years, my best friend and me
My best friend misses me when I am gone, which is a rarity.
We are evenly matched in wit and wisdom, in complete parity.
My friend and I both have hazel eyes and dark hair, but I dye mine.
We take turns napping now, because babies want one up all the time.
There are so many reasons that I love my best friend, impossible to choose.
He knows me better than anyone else; can find anything I misplace or lose.
Knows what foods to buy, so he does the grocery shopping.
He also does the laundry, this man is a dynamo who is forever hopping.
We can finish each other’s sentences,
so claim we are redundant all the time.
I guess the best thing about my best friend
is that since 1968 he has been mine.
They were armed with spears forged by their sun god
Mighty and mean, terrifying mountain-like marauders
The commander told them the battle would be fierce
Their enemies arrived with their own copper spears
Their breastplates and helmets were equal to the task
The battle raged for three days; the field smelled like blood
Evenly matched, the warriors continued on their quest
Smashing and bashing, in the name of their respective kings
Kings who sat on two hills, watching silently, with clean clothes.
Kings who did not mind men killing for their chance at more gold.
She has a tattoo on her breast
Hates when you touch her nipples
Foreplay just yesterday's lies
Black underwear, her hidden disguise
No use playing the love card
That died with the last affair
Now she’s one of the free
Two people lying in bed
Exploring the no-go zones
Checking the exit
Looking backwards
He tries to show love
But stone hearts
Clothe themselves in armour
Screaming the screams, of
yesteryears
She has a tattoo on life
Stamped deep inside
That reads
Don’t break glass in emergency
Don’t resuscitate
The cold wind bit right through her
But it didn’t really matter
They were evenly matched
Well, at least for a time
It was the identifying feature
On her breast
The Tattoo..
Oh how troubling to hear the scary sounds of hopelessness!
Even more so from aged ones leaving many questions; no answers.
A 97 year old man speaks and the world with ears open and heads up, listens.
He recently spoke of a cold war unlike any we have ever seen; between parties
Almost evenly matched with economic, military, and technological capacities.
Complex tasks and prior failures flood the vocabulary of experts.
He only predicts possible if not a probable catastrophic disaster.
We listen to him and return to our coffee while buying and selling.
We watch him in the news and resume our texting and taking selfies.
We deem men are wiser today, forgetting that humans rarely change.
We are less wise, but more woeful, more war-like, more self-destructive.
May we dare to be unlike our relatives of Noah's day, who never changed.
050221PS
The pathological man can not get it right
What normally is wrong is right
Normal to one is wrong to the other
Yet, who is wrong and who is right?
The majority believes they have the key
But who is able to unlock this mystery
If both are right then none are wrong
We can’t have this or that, it’s to confusing
So, we pick and chose between the two
Thinking one has to be true but, is it normal
To be normal is to be evenly matched
But, if half are right and half are wrong
Then,
Nobody is right
We all have become pathological
None are in tune to the truth
He sits poised with head down
then springs forward to attack
The rug becomes littered with
tiny tufts of white, gray and black
as fur flies.
They roll around in a tangle
kicking each other in the head
She’s older and more experienced
he’s younger and stronger instead
and the fur flies.
Her beauty draws him like a flame
he keeps coming back for more
They go barreling down the hall
and crash into the door
as fur flies.
She’s cunning, clever and quick
he’s fun-loving, handsome and bold
They seem to be evenly matched
Their tussle is fun to behold
as the fur flies.
Hair on the sofa
and the dining room chair
illuminated by sunlight
floating in the air
the fur flies.
We love them anyway
and keep the vacuum nearby
Sweet William and Petunia
sure-footed, impulsive and sly
whose fur flies.
We fence
Forward and back, coyly with words
Laughing and flirting
We fence
Evenly matched, strong wit, strong hearts
No masks, epees glinting, no protection
And just when I think I am gaining ground,
You wound me
quickly, and with no mercy
Wounded with silence
Wounded with withdrawal
As swiftly as if you pierced my heart
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