Air Boredom

I am stuck on a plane,
It is not a surprise,
I knew where I was going, and the length,
I'm no victim of lies,

Had days to prepare any amusement,
To get me through the flight,
I didn't even charge up my laptop,
When will I ever get anything right!

I e'en forgot my little neck pillow,
Though 'bout that I'm not sad,
I think it pushes a vein in my neck,
And would leave me for dead,

I guess there's thoughts,
Now just think about that,
Fly way up in the air only to get,
Back to the first activity we had.

Meh

I've high cholesterol,
It's something new for me,
Apparently what they say's indeed true,
It falls 'part at forty,

Ne'er need I e'er worry about trans fats,
I ere felt lean and fit,
While slowly what I put into my mouth,
Transformed my blood into congealing shit,

Making my fingers feel tingly as if,
It's jelly pushing through,
I'm getting nauseous thinking about it,
Does it the same to you?

It is not right,
All we know 'bout bodies,
Of course, if we didn't compromise health,
We'd not worry about our arteries.

Walk

Walking, walking, walking,
I'm walking as I write,
When once, one could only think while walking,
Wealthy and erudite,

Now I could talk to my phone as I walk,
Transcribing as I spoke,
Or my thumb could simply stroke the laters,
And I'm just one of the world's simplest folks,

So if walking really moves your juices,
Just like Aristotle,
There's nothing stopping your forward movement,
Just get up and waddle,

To your own truth,
Of the world you live in,
At least you'll have gotten some exercise,
Of both your body and percept-i-on.

Where Do You Fall?

Here is what's happening,
There is a fly that's born,
In the span of its life, not much happens,
T'make you or I forlorn,

The death of 'bout four point five million folks,
That is thirty days-worth,
But, ten million babes are born the same time,
So there's a greater ratio of mirth,

But, many of those deaths are more tragic,
Births, equally joyful,
One point three billion live in poverty,
Extreme and sorrowful,

Then there is you,
Where to you fall? Do you?
There is no escaping comparison,
No gauge of your life can be absolute.

What You Do

What's it to really live?
I mean, it's so small time,
Assuming you don't die before you're old,
Don't know the finish line,

Don't know what the prize is, because there's none,
Some say it's legacy,
Those things you leave that the living can keep,
It's your example of how one should be,

How you balance living with letting live,
Happy with who you are,
Which is determined by what is inside,
How you doing so far?

You consistent?
Will people one day say,
"She was who she was always meant to be,
May everyone try to live life that way.

Corelli

I need to do this fast,
I don't really know why,
Sometimes what you have on your mind to say's,
Not really worth the time,

It takes from you moments that you could use,
Doing something you love,
So that it's e'en drenched in anxiety,
Which for a poem, might just be enough.

So, can you feel the pulsing in my brain,
Begging me to finish?
My fingers shoot the immediacy,
Through the keys with vi'lence,

Not even rhyme,
And a pang in my side,
Thank god I'm at the end of this stanza,
Lest my words start to anger and deride.

Alone

That's just the way it is,
Some things will never change,
Like the way you feel when you're all alone,
Always within one's range,

'Least lonely's something ev'ryone should feel,
To get to know oneself,
Look 'neath the water, leave not undug depth,
Unexplored, like the Russian arctic shelf,

Make sure to be lonely among others,
Th'only way to do it,
And if you can fend off interaction,
Show me how to do it,

No, never mind,
Without that, you can't live,
E'en being told you're prob'ly an asshole,
Is more insight than aloneness will give. 

In This World

They all say life's funny,
That it's a journey, too,
A box of chocolates and a mystery,
It doesn't matter who,

That you are born into this world naked,
And naked you will go,
It's ashes to ashes and dust to dust,
Then at the end, there's no more that you know,

You're gone and all trace of you disappears,
All of this is not trite,
It's as true as god, if you believe 'nthat.
In essence, this is life.

But you live, too,
There's no denying this,
Ev'ry moment is as real as if real,
And pain is the apex of evilness.

Poor Leaf

There's a leaf on the floor,
Brown, deformed and alone,
It blew in with the door or underfoot,
Its origins unknown,

Probably fell from a tree is my guess,
Was fed an empty cup,
Which prevented it from absorbing light,
Because its chlorophyll just all dried up,

It lost its hold on its home and took off,
Flitting about briefly,
Then lay on the ground forgotten, useless,
That do be a leaf, free.

Yes, it may rot,
Return and feed the dirt,
What will happen to this one on the floor?
He, who's inflected no distress or hurt.

My Heart Breaks At The Endless Death

One hundred, twenty-eight,
Two hundred more were hurt,
Some bearing injuries irreparable,
The whole world on alert,

At least anyone who consumes the news,
All struck by the cruelness,
Everyone attacked, just living that night,
Hollande saying, "we will be merciless,"

Seeking revenge, justice for french people,
Raids then executed,
Fresh bombs for Syrian Islamic foes,
Refugees refuted,

Neither flinching,
Sounds like a war to me,
Just in time to overlap the last one.
Humans've been killing for an etern'ty.

Wind in the Sky

The clouds are moving fast,
In uniform, like trains,
Grey, thick, a sheet mottled with white and light,
Hinting rescue from rains,

Showing a clear, brighter world up above,
The clouds just a cover,
But one as real as the virtues behind,
Like the foreboding face of a lover,

One who holds within her all that you need,
If you can soar above,
Ignoring the shadow on all you see,
That's the secret to love,

Ignore your eyes,
Live only for the sun,
E'en when the horizon's clouds're only grey,
With no hint of a breeze to shunt them on.

The Unfamiliar Word

Letters are like faces,
Like faces lose their form,
Like when you stare long enough at either,
And recognition's shorn,

Like you've used a diff'rent part of your brain,
To comprehend a thing,
That for years has been close to you and dear,
Then loses all familiarity.

The ties of life like this are tenuous,
Resting just on one's flesh,
As formidable as a brain's synapse,
Less a link, more a cleft.

Or more a feel,
Like the bond people share,
Some say stronger than the thickest metals,
A contradiction to all I've just bared.

Inside Out

Can you e'er be too closed,
To see outside your sphere,
Ostensibly occluded from real life,
Only your own thoughts near?

Unable to process what others feel,
A lacunae 'tween you,
Sliding down a huge infundibulum,
Gelid and hard sides apparently smooth.

But there are handholds if you wish to search,
And not fall in despair,
Refracting the light from the world outside,
Also your source of air.

Quick, grab one now!
Before you suffocate,
Get squeezed out the tapered end like sausage,
And lose all chance at tempting your own fate.

God's Truth

What if God is lying?
This world a cover-up?
One of many, designed to hide a crime,
To which he won't fess up.

Like the first world he ever created,
An eternity gone,
Born of his need for unfettered worship,
Disappointment leading to abortion,

Abortion leading to an intense guilt,
Yes, I am talking God,
A new world made to obfuscate the crime,
Hoping it'll love his bod,

But it doesn't,
He, still searching for love
We, just a rung in his ladder of lies,
One step 'way from not loving him enough.

At The Drop Of A Hat

There's a pain in my back,
'Bout the size of a knot,
It is stopping me from taking deep breaths,
And from doing a lot,

Making me think of all I've never done,
For what if it ne'er leaves?
Restricting me from now 'til ever more,
As sudden and real as Christopher Reeves,

Never again will I check my blind spot,
All others must beware,
My cells will slowly die and then decay,
For total lack of air,

What will they say?
'Here lies a man that died,
Not old, regretting what he did not do,
But ere truly knowing what 'fore him lied.'

The Hard Part

The sun is in my eyes,
There's nothing I can do,
Except to turn my head to the darkness,
But then, I'd not see you,

Do you know what I mean when I say that?
You are a shining light,
That is worth staring into for my soul,
E'en if't means I 'ventu'lly lose my sight,

E'en if I have to die prematurely,
Whatever that does mean,
Lifetimes are wasted for one hundred years,
When the most's made by teens,

It's like cancer,
You don't know what you've got,
Especially after it's gone away,
For you've always e'er wanted what you've not.

Sounds

What's that sound I'm hearing?
The ticking of the clock,
Layered with the sound of the clothes drying,
The odd car on the block,

There's a gurgling in my stomach right now,
It's fluids, not hunger,
My breath has been struggling a bit today,
And when I strain my lungs it is louder,

I turn my neck to watch the howling wind,
There are cracks when I do,
A glug-glug aft' the shuffle of my reach,
To grab my half-filled brew,

It's all music!
Proof that I am alive,
Shame on those for whom sounds grate on their nerves,
I'd rather my ears bleed than find I've died.

It's Just So

Sun is out and shining,
But I have a sore ear,
Prob'bly the nicest day we'll have this fall,
My eyes are filled with tears,

Soon snow will make us forget what we have,
And my nose is stuffed up,
If Nature had any kindness at all,
Either sickness or nice weather would drop.

It's not all bad, I mean, I've got my health,
Wait a sec, that's not true,
Well, at least it's not a beautiful day,
D'I seem okay to you?!

Let's just say this:
There is weather outside,
I definitely feel a certain way,
And so until death, do we all so bide.

Happy Birthday To Me

I have to write today,
It's kind of a big one,
It has been four months and twenty-three days,
Since my mom has passed on,

This is my first birthday, 'tleast since she died,
First one she's ever missed,
Though if you heard her talk while she still lived,
It's not in this world where spirit exists,

Not to say that it will last forever,
About that, well who knows?
But there's more to see than the eyes can touch,
Which she learned to let go.

That's what she said,
"I'm learning to let go,"
Not wanting to waste one moment of death,
She claimed ignorance, but she e'er did know.

I Think I Can

That train was sure it could,
With ev'ry inch of steel,
Its whole chassis was an engine of will,
Tracks, extension of wheels,

Nothing existed for it but the goal,
Not hatred or e'en love,
For it, the world was the top of a hill,
Nothing existed below or above,

If its maker had stood strong before it,
He would have lost his life,
Cursed for th'extra effort his body claimed,
As steel cut like a knife.

That's th'way with goals,
They're outside re-al'ty,
What world could accommodate human whims,
And maintain some kind of society?

When You Can

Sometimes you have to choose,
What you can do when y'can,
Like this instead of that e'en though you'd like,
That one much better than,

Though you can always do that in a bit,
If it is not too late,
Sometimes when you think you can wait, you can't,
Like you've just served yourself a bonk and bate.

Of course if you ne'er do another thing,
Not th'end of the planet,
Most things you do are missed by everyone,
All, 'fyou're like most man, bet.

At least there's this,
The thing I could get done,
Squeezed in between playing with my two kids,
And helping someone with relocation.