Off Medication

The crow cries at the new day,
And so screams the idiot,
They know no other way...

Before The Androids

I think I was cool, at a certain
Point in time, we called it hip
Back then, those days before
We were in the mental grip
Of being constantly connected
By electricity and micro-chip,
To relatives, friends, and trolls,
Back when thought would outstrip
Technology, and you needed a
Dime to connect to a phone,
To keep from being alone...

Pre-Halloween

A cold north wind urges leaves
To change to yellows and reds,
Autumn color spreads,
Watched over, all the while,
By a carved-up pumpkin's
Crooked smile...

Before The Chaos Of A New Day

In bed, not willing to wake,
Then, from places unseen,
The sounds of her moving about,
Doing her morning routine,
As a new day begins, leave me
Feeling assured, almost serene.

Teenage Wasteland

Overcome by hormones,
Unable to cope with
Too many unknowns...

All builds-up inside,
Emotional overload,
Needs to be released
Ready to explode...

Pressure to mate,
Too much to handle,

Time to sedate...

YOLO

You only live once,
Go ahead, play the fool,
Do something risky,
Something stupid cool,
Your action goes viral,
YouTube, Facebook, fame,
For which you only
Have yourself to blame...

You've Got Mail

Even unopened, causes
Concern and stress,
Unexpected letter
From the IRS.

State Legislature

Liberal or conservative are the labels
We tack onto each other, as if to define
Who you are, and who we are, in terms
Of political views, and, how we align,
On issues we didn't know were ours...
And we bite and bicker over scraps
Thrown from the prevailing powers.

Oil Tribe

Bubba drives a pick-up truck,
His wife drives a big SUV,
And they never walk anywhere,
In the land of the brave and free.

On freeways and parking lots,
They cruise, they have it made,
He in his F-150, and she
In her Escalade.

Vote Republican,
Jesus saves,
All is good, in the land
Of the free, and the braves.

The Creative Process

It will come to me,
Like it always does,
Sometimes suddenly,
Or mysteriously,
From somewhere,
Materializing out
Of a dark night's air,
It will come to me,
Hopefully,
Eventually.

美人

Beauty does not derive
From one's fashion or race,
Rather from the symmetry
Of features on one's face.

That,
And not being
Fat.

Brought To You By Dogma

Religions produce prophets,
Theists, and deists, imbued
With faith in an unseen and
Holy verisimilitude.

The Time Around Sunset

Scurrying, with intent, on sidewalks
Like so many salmon in a river's flow,
The working day done, toward our vast
And varied comfort cubes we go.

Month Of No Gods

The southward drift
Of cooler masses
Of air, which lift
Away the humid
Heat, October's gift.

It Keeps You Running

Hormones surge,
Biological urge,
Drives her
To the verge...

Dating,
Does not necessarily lead to
Mating.

One can be kissed,
In a moment's passion,
Then dismissed.

Lonely,
Sadly searching websites for
"My only."

Emptiness inside her head,
As she lies alone,
In bed.

Dreams of the prize,
The promise of love
In the look of his eyes...

Ebola

In a continuous and pitiless,
Battle between virus and man,
Fought, without respite, or
Mercy, since Earthly time began,

Virions' attacks and advances
Portend the war might be won,
Cells poisoned everywhere,
Humanity sickened, undone...

Pachinko

Small steel balls fall and bounce
On pegs, doing gravity's dance,
Down the face of the machine,
He faces, and plays, in a trance,
Immobile, and held prisoner by
The temptation of chance.

Desolation

Hopes and promises, broken and bent,
Most fading to gray, shifting into
Nothingness, as soon as they're sent,
We're left dumb, luckless, wondering
Where the fun times went...

Farewell, Fiscal Year

Insinuation of coolness, longer shadows
Caused by the lower angle of the sun,
Summer's green fading, tiring, by degrees,
Combine to remind that September's done.

What Makes Me

Overwhelmed with a feeling of things
Passing, slipping away, makes me think,
Makes me want to slow life down and
Simplify, makes we want to drink...

What The Vegetable Reveals

I suppose life is like an onion,
With multiple layers of skin,
Waiting, needing, to be peeled
Away, to reveal the truth within,
Which, in the end, doesn't match
The drama we think we are in...

Want Versus Reality

Nothing in life is guaranteed,
Is a cold hard fact, which we
Know, but don't want to heed,
As if it were some weird, and
Analog, a lost prophet's screed,
About us, the entitled ones,
Who possess more than we need.

Autumnal Equinox

Japanese gather on the hillsides,
And in wooded temple grounds,
Which host their family graves,
Cicadas' cries replaced by sounds
Of bell-crickets, the fine fall day's
Cooling transition surrounds
The families, convening with their
Ancestors, amidst the old mounds,
And burial stones, each reunion of
Souls, a mystery which confounds.

秋分の日

The first yellow leaf, encouraged by
A cold breeze's nudging and shocks,
Detaches, and drops, from a summer's
Branch, on this day of the Equinox.

Meat Puppet Aspiration

Conscious, and self aware,
Yes, I am me, indisputably,
Whether being here or there,
Thoughts and feelings swarm,
Through the hours I'm awake,
Based on how my senses inform,
Everything combining to make
An out-of-body feeling, which
Is later revealed to be a mistake,
As my meat reasserts its control,
Through sleep, pain, and pleasures,
Dispensed in differing measures.