As Seen On TV

I will not write, today,

It just doesn't feel right,

Sitting here with my daughter, cloudy head,

We're watching Monster High,

There's a buzz in the speakers I can't fix,

And it's driving me mad,

Ev'rything's plugged in as it's supposed to,

Why won't they work like they do in the ad?

Why do I have to connect and undo,

Wiggle, listen, repeat?

You spend money on things to do a thing,

And it working's a feat,

Just like your mind,

There is no warranty,

Invest all you want in its improvement,

You may ne'er actually get it working.

Those Irritations

Everything's chemical,
Like how you feel right now,
The pain in the space behind your ear's real,
E'en though you know not how,

Your body is suffused in gen'ral angst,
Is it diet or life?
Like the chicken and egg, nature/nurture,
Even science, on this point is in strife,

It will treat you with pills, counsel or both,
Pending year or doctor,
Though no one will deny it's physical,
No one knows what it's for,

Just a symptom,
Of an act'ul problem,
As hid as the secrets of the un'verse,
The or'gin of all the world's momentum.

Carrot Top

You cannot trust red hair,
This sounds racist, I know,
It is not like shifty eyes or a tick,
But when you've naught to go

On, observe the color of the tresses.
If rust, run like a train,
Whether the dye or the nat'ral pigment,
The hue seeps from the roots into the brain,

P'haps it drips down o'er the nerves from the eyes,
Not rose-colored glasses,
But capote, showing gold seeing red,
Birthing deadly lasses,

This is unfair,
Based on my exper'ence,
You must find the trait of which to beware,
Per G.I Joe, knowing's the best defense.

The Road Is Less Traveled

They paint on the concrete,
Yellow, white and orange,
Lines, arrows, diamonds, chevrons and shoulders,
To show bound'ries or range,

But ev-eryone knows the paint won't last,
One day it disappears,
But the message it sends ain't eternal,
And will itself fade in just a few years,

Nor will the concrete survive forever,
Tread 'pon repeatedly,
The earth shifting constantly under it,
Like it misleaded me.

Or least  tried to,
Hide what's past horizons,
But we humans vow to cross any lines,
Whether us living now, or by our sons.

It's Never Too Late

Everything is out there,
There's nothing left to see,
No secret force hid behind a curtain,
Pulling the gov'ment's strings,

It's all there in the news and TV shows,
Truth's the same as fiction,
If it's been imagined, then bet it's real,
Or it is on its way to creation,

That is how to find your place in this world,
Imagine yourself there,
Hence they say be careful what you wish for,
And to do it with care.

This is good news,
The world is your oyster,
But you have to learn how to shuck the thing,
Or you'll never get the chance to taste her.

Is Today The Day?

Today might be the day,
The day it's fin'lly done,
Well, ultimately I hope it's a start,
Of a new direction,

To be clear, I'm talking about my book,
In case there's confusion,
It had started more than two years ago,
Most ev'ry morning, 'bout an hour session,

What it is now, I never would have guessed,
So diff'rent, yet the same,
Adding layer after layer four times,
Until the closure came,

Then there's today,
It's supposed to come back,
Though, the past tells me not to hold my breath,
I've been here at least three times in the past.

Morning

So, I get up early,
I've done so my whole life,
Before the things that need get done must start,
Duties with which it's rife,

Nothing against what we all have to do,
To keep this world going,
Assuming, of course, it's the world you want,
Sometimes, I think, my mom was all-knowing,

She knew that one needs time to be alone,
Time for meditation,
Whatever that actually means for you,
For real relaxation.

Maybe it's work,
Ya, not so much for me,
Unless it's work to write down what you think,
Then I am a regular busy bee.

Quick Hammock

You don't have a hammock?!
I know there're other things,
One thinks of first when trying to survive,
'Stead of, "How shall I swing?"

But still, placed in the perfect location,
Not too much shade or sun,
As as windy as you can possibly find,
Neither end too high hung,

A well-made one, both mesh or cloth will do,
Double-wide with pillow,
Lots of trees with leaves that hum in the breeze,
There's nothing you'd like more,

After eating,
And drinking, too, of course,
Shelter, peace and the meaning of life.
After that, a hammock's the tour de force.

To The Stars

Looking at the night sky,
The stars perfectly set,
Forming constellations I cannot see,
Massive bodies at rest,

Forming shapes for us, millennia old,
How do they keep their place,
In the vastness of an endless vacuum,
Nothing between them to maintain the space?

It's said there's gravity keeping balance,
Invisible, just sensed,
We see effects, then name the unknown cause,
Cops planting evidence.

And yes, I know,
That stars do, in fact, move,
Tracing the same steps ev'ryday they live,
Appears to me that they're human, that proves.

Towel?

Do you wear a towel,
When you come from the beach?
Not instead of, but on your bathing suit,
To avoid water leach,

Into your shirt that you wear to protect,
Your skin from the hot sun,
Now put on your hat and your sunglasses,
And sit yourself under your umbrella,

Remember to move your chair with the day,
Keep your feet in the shade,
Now you are safe from your skin burning off,
While enjoying the day,

Then strip it off!
Live a little, goddamn,
The point of armour is to take it off,
Bare your chest to sun when most times you ran,

For The Leaves

It is just a dead leaf,
One among many more,
Somehow, slowly, alone breaking apart,
Then it comes back for more,

More life, spread out among more living things,
Maybe a dog and bird,
A little sprinkled in a blade of grass,
Some diluted through the veins of a nerd,

Acted upon in ways different than leaf,
Which seems so slow and calm,
Just absorb what you can, fall down and die,
Minimal commotion.

That's the whole show,
It's a shame it must end,
Who isn't tempted by the life of leaves,
When given the pain of this existence?

Wind

Hello again friend wind,
And all the things you bring,
Sand, dryness and a new meaning to life,
Well, in truth, not really,

You just remind me what it is I love,
About the things you do,
Pressing against every part of me,
That I expose to you,

Whispering what I must hear in my ear,
Sweet nothings, just like mind,
No one believes you have something to say,
And for me that is fine,

For you are mine,
No one knows you like me,
You are life, death and everything between,
Portender of my own mortality.

For The Birds

My dad loves to have birds,
Make nests around the house,
About five exist under the carport,
More barn swallows, no grouse,

All flitting to and fro, feeding their young,
Bird poo everywhere,
He tells me tales of their activities,
Proudly, like he's making them his new heirs,

Which wouldn't bother me, actually,
They give him such a high.
Once, when one flew over his head five times,
It meant mom wouldn't die,

Of course she did,
But he still loves them there,
They are his friends and he takes care of them,
Knowing they're with him makes me feel less scared.

It's Not Over

There's something I won't think,
It is not what you think,
Fear of anything's based on reaction,
Making your stomach sink,

Or compress from repeated and hard blows,
It has happened before,
Not that risk of vi'lence should dissuade you,
But then, which thoughts are worth suffering for?

There is the school that says just say it all,
They'll get tired of punching,
But then what does that say about your words?
Importance a done thing.

Pick your battles,
They say that, too, I hear,
The trick is to not wait too long to stand,
Before what you really want to say's mere.

That Chair

There's a chair over there,
Not hurting e'en a fly,
Brown and worn, its life shorter than it was,
The perfect mid-life guy,

Its favourite times must be when it's sat on,
Imagine what it hears,
The coos and bites and thoughts and flatulence,
The singles in front of it feeling slight,

The transference of fibers and of skin,
Accumulated years,
Left again on pants and skirts as they leave,
Perhaps congealed with tears,

And, man, those legs,
Once so shiny and new,
Maybe their creator had admired them,
Now they lay hiding, just supporting you.

Last Draft

Well, I am back at it,
There is so much to say,
So much, in fact, I'm at a loss for words,
Didn't want it this way,

Didn't ask for any of it, really,
Who of us ever did?
Get born into a world you've never seen?
Would've been nice if we could have vetted.

P'haps we could inherit a catalogue,
Leaf through 'fore buying in,
It don't have to be all cash and sunshine,
Just some pre-inspection.

Don't get me wrong,
Wouldn't trade for the world,
You don't know a house 'til you've lived in it,
Life's as impenetrable 'til unfurled.