Before

What is done,

And what should be done,

Too many times,

Are two different things.

 

Life at this time,

Has lost its shine,

Do people’s dirty little tricks,

Too make your stomach sick?

 

Let us rewind,

Hundreds of years,

So as to get away,

From so many vile liberal minds.

 

I’ve been known to wonder,

Why wasn’t I born,

Way back when?

Eventually though,

It’s concluded,

That I was,

But then,

Like everyone does,

I was reincarnated,

Time and again,

Until now here I am,

Part of this modern world,

That’s congested with hatred.

 

How many previous,

Lives did I lead?

What did I get up to?

And did I succeed?

Does that even matter?

To these I’ve no answer.

 

I’m sure there were many,

Some in the times when being rich,

Required barely more than a penny,

And other souls were so far off,

That a walk to visit neighbors,

Would wear a hole in one’s socks.

 

I hereby suggest someone,

Invent a spell,

That can take a body back,

To when things were simple,

To when for the most part,

Society was civil,

Rather than sinful.

 

I beg of you,

Let me go back,

To whenever it was,

That my first life was lived,

Modern conveniences be damned,

The peace would more than make up,

For what I would lack.

 

 

 

 

 

Moose On A Mission

Here is the story of a moose,

Who heard some people,

Like eating pies of chocolate mousse,

And so went about searching,

To find the Chocolate moose,

So as to save them from the fate,

Of ending up,

On people’s plates.

 

“They must be bitter and cold,

Like the winter months,

To think of eating one of us”,

Thought the Regular moose.

 

A make of moose called Chocolate?

He’d never heard of that,

It must indeed,

Be a rare breed,

Or he’d have heard,

Of at least one herd.

 

This particular moose,

His name was Deuce,

He was born and raised,

In the North Country,

In deep woods running along,

Interstate Ninety-Three.

 

It occurred to him,

That Chocolate moose,

Might not even live,

In a forest with birch and spruce,

Maybe they were farther off,

Where palms grew,

In flatlands of sand.

 

“Aha”!,

Thought Deuce,

“I can disguise my search,

For the Chocolate moose,

I’ll tell the whole forest,

I’m going on a vacation,

And I don’t know for how long,

Will be the duration”.

 

So he got his affairs in order,

And made sure to grab,

His lucky quarter,

Then he was off,

His undertaking a secret,

So his friends wouldn’t scoff.

 

He did not know,

Whether to look high or low,

As he’d never seen one before,

He did not know,

To what size,

A Chocolate moose might grow.

 

Every so often,

He would stop to speak,

With whatever woods creature,

Had a minute to spare,

He had conversations with ants and with bears,

But none had heard,

Of a Chocolate moose,

Living anywhere near there.

 

It took him a week to get to Florida,

Walking half the days,

And all through the nights,

Where he inquired with all the exotics,

Although they made him quake with fright,

But after quite some time,

Seeing no new leads,

He acknowledged it was time to head,

And in another two weeks,

Arrived in California.

 

Needing to gather his thoughts,

That first night after dark,

He made his way,

To a beach in Malibu,

And took a swim until,

He worked out his muscle knots.

 

All throughout the next few days,

He asked spiders, sharks, and lions,

And after being satisfied,

That they were not lying,

He started to trek back east,

But no,

He was not ready to admit defeat!

There must be a way,

To locate the Chocolate moose,

And keep them from dying!

 

Now Deuce decided,

That to not have at least a little fun,

Would be outright retarded,

Enough chatting with those,

Who gave him the creeps,

He would visit,

The City That Never Sleeps.

 

Now,

The answers we seek,

Tend to be revealed,

At the most unusual of times,

And so it was this time,

For after searching weeks and weeks,

He learned that eating Chocolate mousse,

Was not even a crime.

 

Deuce arrived in New York City,

At the start of a busy weekend,

He made his way to Central Park,

Where he found some woods,

And napped ’til almost dark.

 

About the time he woke,

A voice on the nearby trail spoke,

Said she to her chum,

“After that run,

My favorite chocolate mousse,

Would go down so yum”!

 

“Oh this is too easy”!

Thought dear little Deuce,

“I’ll follow them,

And be led right to these Chocolate moose”!

 

And so,

From a safe distance behind,

He kept the ladies in his sight,

Hoping with all his might,

That the Chocolate moose she hoped to devour,

Had not yet been prepared,

In the pastry made of butter and flour.

 

Really,

He did not know where he was expecting,

To find this unheard of breed,

But to be sure,

It did seem strange to collect it,

From a bakery.

 

Yet that is where they were,

And as it was a pleasant evening,

The business had propped open the door,

So he heard them make the order,

Then watched them go take a seat,

At the table in the corner.

 

Moving then,

To stand at the wall,

Where he could hide behind,

The two decorative pines,

While looking in an open window,

It pretty near blew his mind,

When the food was brought,

For there was no meat,

It was actually a sweet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hmmmmm……….

I don’t know why,

A storm rolls in light before sound,

But I do know this,

The rain it brings,

Makes the browned ground rebound.

 

I don’t know why,

Black is associated with evil,

But I do know this,

Colorful things can be lethal,

And darkness can be regal.

 

I don’t know why,

Trees can produce paper,

But I do know this,

If we keep being takers,

We’ll regret it later.

 

I don’t know why,

It’s normal for heads to grow hair,

But I do know this,

I’d wear a lot more hats,

If up there were bare.

 

I don’t know why,

Green means go,

But I do know this,

There’s always at least one,

Determined to go too slow.

 

I don’t know why,

Good belongs on the road less traveled,

But I do know this,

It’s supposed to be worth it,

At the striking of the final gavel.

 

I don’t know why,

Pies are made round,

But I do know this,

I’ve found they’re not worth,

The extra pounds.

 

I don’t know why,

We let machines replace people,

But I do know this,

Progress’s side effects,

Spiral down,

And cause something else to cripple.

 

I don’t know why,

The movie is never as good as the book,

But I do know this,

So many will never know,

Because the book they’ve overlooked.

 

I don’t know why,

It’s impossible to get out of life alive,

But I do know this,

Lately it’s a wonder,

If there’s anything left,

For which to survive.

 

I don’t know why,

Hearts are commonly drawn in red,

But I do know this,

It makes perfect sense,

Because any time they’ve gotten hurt – they’ve bled.

 

I don’t know why,

Wasted time seems to fly,

But I do know this,

What you must do next,

Will force your expression to wry.

 

I don’t know why,

The sun doesn’t shine at night,

But I do know this,

Missing its light,

Doesn’t make the dark,

Any less of a welcome sight.

 

I don’t know why,

Time can’t stand still,

But I do know this,

It would be a convenience to have it at the beck and call,

Of my own free will.

 

I don’t know why,

Fire is hot,

But I do know this,

It makes marshmallows,

Taste as they ought.

 

I don’t know why,

All religions believe themselves correct,

But I do know this,

It appears they all,

Need to be fact-checked.

 

 

 

Catastrophic Controversy

Hell is here,

But don’t let that get in the way,

Of living your life today,

Put your angst aside,

And get the fuck outside.

 

Hell is here,

That much closer to Doomsday,

And the Man Downstairs,

Is trying to take,

An early payday.

 

*************************

You won’t find no sugar-coatings here,

I say,

Fucking relax,

Because facts are facts,

Your time is your time,

It is predetermined,

By not your brain nor mine,

If it’s meant to nab you,

You can not halt it,

And if you’re meant to survive,

At the end you will still,

Be fucking ALIVE!

*************************

 

You must realize,

It’s coughing all around us,

Now we’re coated with its germs,

So expecting the worst,

From this curse,

Everyone’s common sense,

Has become paralyzed.

 

Hell is here,

Stupid souls,

Let it take control,

Rather than live and let live,

Blame is thrown at others,

Who just innocently go about their business,

And long after this is done,

They won’t think it’s fun,

When their targets,

Find it fucking impossible,

To forgive.

 

Hell is here,

What was alright,

Has become taboo,

At least to you,

But speak to another,

And you’re told it’s no thing,

Really,

The world is about to recover.

 

Hell is here,

Times are dark,

Days have vibes,

Like the witching hour,

Daunting and full,

Of the Devil’s power.

 

Hell is here,

It’s been a long time comin’

And would you look at that now?

Many who talk a big talk,

Are frantic and running.

 

Hell is here,

It takes just a sneeze,

To knock a once-badass,

To their fucking knees.

 

Hell is here,

And that black-clad bastard,

Is trying to shine,

So let’s not let him get away with tainting,

People and places divine.

 

Unseen Storms

I am marked,

By something dark,

It follows me,

Wherever I go,

Making sure high points,

Are followed by lows.

 

It’s not as bad,

As the Mark Of The Beast,

Or the Wicked Witch,

Of The East,

But still it’s shades of dark,

And they leave a mark.

 

I see it daily at work,

When the old jerks,

Who are running their yappers,

Think that I don’t know,

They’re talking about beaus,

And making it out,

Like I’m some cheap hoe.

 

It’s like there’s some slight horror,

Around even the brightest corner,

Right there in front of my face,

Like an ugly tear,

In a pretty piece of lace.

 

I see it each weekend out,

At some local haunt,

It’s not too bad,

Until I overhear the taunts,

Apparently I’m ugly,

And just not normal,

Though I know it’s fact I’m more pretty,

Than most in my city.

 

It surrounds me for always,

A dark, dark haze,

Is prevalent through,

Otherwise bright rays,

And so being paranoid,

Darkens my days.

 

I see it most everywhere,

And I really try,

Not to care,

But I’m so sick,

Of all the stares,

I know tons of folks,

Who need a shove,

Down a long steep flight of stairs.

 

A speck of thundercloud,

In a seemingly spotless sky,

It seems dead set,

On making me cry,

And so presently,

Here I am,

Just trying not to die,

While I’m alive.

The Proverbial Angel And Devil

There is a battle between good and evil,

It’s raging in everyone’s soul,

It takes two halves,

To make any of us whole,

It goes a little like this:

“Do this,

Or I’ll get pissed”!

And,

“No! Please!

Don’t listen to that!

I smell a rat”!

 

These two whisper battles,

Day in,

And day out,

Trying to win my affections,

So I’ll follow their directions.

 

One so bad,

He should make me mad,

But when he speaks,

I hear happy squeaks,

The opposite so good,

I should maybe knock on wood,

For when he says walk,

I cheerily ask,

For guidance to his flock.

 

I’d be better off,

As a one-man show,

But in each situation,

Inside my skull,

My conscience hears two little voices,

That just won’t dull.

 

What the fuck?

Is there a way,

To shut them up?

They’ve been keeping everyone company,

Since the Dawn Of Time,

Shouldn’t they have expired by now?

I’d think they should be,

Way past their prime.

 

I picture the one having horns,

Bearing a black pitchfork,

The other wearing a white robe,

With twinkling stars,

Hanging from delicate earlobes.

 

They represent the two main things,

That drive this world,

Wicked and righteous,

And as thoughts of both,

Course through all our minds,

It would seem we are all one part sinister,

And another part divine.

 

Does either one,

Ever win?

Can one being be,

One hundred percent,

Just goodness or sin?

I’d say no one is perfect,

We’re really each a mix,

Of halos and that creepy,

Six-six-six.

 

 

 

We Frustrate Me

Nothing but distaste,

For the human race,

When further I think on it,

The more the hate,

Picks up the pace.

 

They strive to thrive,

Headfirst they dive,

Into normalcy,

Also known as crazy,

And what a waste,

It’s not as though,

They’re leaving alive.

 

Flitting about here and there,

And most don’t care,

About a thing,

Unless it’s theirs,

And even then,

It’s hard for some,

Not to act like scum.

 

The other day,

I was at the store,

Everyone was there,

Rich and poor,

Saints and whores,

As well as everything between,

After looking high,

And looking low,

They all had,

One thing in common though,

They all needed something,

Their money couldn’t buy.

 

I’m sick of dealing,

With them and their issues,

There’s the alcoholics,

And there’s the apostolics,

Some are even diabolical,

I wonder,

When the fuck,

Did this psycho mix,

Become typical?

 

Let me tell you,

The whole lot is fuct,

If they keep waiting around,

For a run of good luck,

We each make or break our own fortune,

No one is immune,

Now quit looking so god-damn forlorn,

And go grab a new life,

By the horns.

 

Are you wondering when,

I’ll make my point?

There isn’t one,

Yet this wasn’t written,

Just for the fun.

 

 

 

LOL @ “Love”

*************************

I wish you well,

My fellow ladies,

And may you forever steer clear,

Of the ones who are crazy.

*************************

 

It does not exist,

At least,

Not in the genre,

For which we all hope and pray.

 

It’s fictional,

And I am not being stereotypical,

But it’s simple fact,

It exists abundantly in other forms,

But that one,

Produces toxic storms in swarms.

 

I wonder why this is so?

Why we let bliss turn into,

Row after row?

I’d almost rather,

Never have had it at all,

Than go through,

The predestined fall.

 

*************************

 

First you think you’ve found it,

Seems to you,

You’ve found a perfect fit,

Then the storms start to brew,

And someone changes their view,

Before you know it,

You’re back to just you.

 

Now here you are,

Should you try again?

Yes,

You’ve decided,

But the sweet wears off,

And again one takes off,

Like a shot.

 

*************************

 

It’s a joke,

A waste of time,

And that’s the commodity most precious,

So why do we waste it,

On something fictitious?

 

I’ve made a list,

Weighed pros and cons,

Seems the emotional investment,

Is not even close to worth it,

The most you can hope for,

Is staying a tad bit detached,

So when the time comes,

You can walk out the door,

Without being dragged down,

Left to live depressed and sore.

 

*************************

 

I see your smirk,

But you will see,

It will not work,

He will turn face,

And be a mighty jerk,

Once again,

You’ll need to begin anew,

Because of what,

He’ll put you through.

 

 

What’s On Your Mind?

I wonder,

What do others see,

When they look at me?

 

All sorts of peoples,

Look and look and look,

I guess to them I’m like,

The cover of an unread book,

I either appear as interesting and appealing,

Or as bland and boring,

But I wish I could see who thinks what,

Instead of having to trust my gut.

 

Am I associated with laughter,

And happy ever after?

Or do they see a blackened heart,

And assume I have no feeling,

And so am not worth knowing?

 

Am I only a pretty face,

Taking up precious space?

Or am I too a human,

With a valuable opinion?

 

Sometimes I look at someone,

And they’re looking at me too,

It’s sort of disturbing,

To wonder what’s happening in their mind,

When at me they’re always staring,

I think – “How rude”!

Maybe they should just speak their mind,

Then I’d know whether I should hate,

Or appreciate.

 

I am not a mind reader,

So if you don’t want my mind to wander,

Tell me why you’re gawking at me,

When you’re way over yonder,

Or don’t blame me for making assumptions,

For you’ve left me without any other options.

 

No doubt some think I’m fat,

While others think,

“Hey, I’d sure like to tap that”!

Now if only they’d give some sort of clue,

So I could decipher who is who.

 

I know more than a few,

Are sweet to my face,

Then go behind my back,

Saying how they’d like,

To put me in my place,

No doubt a couple speak true,

But once again,

How do I figure who is who?

 

I see a stranger look at me,

Eyes go wide,

They spin around and gape,

Is someone passing undue judgement,

Thinking I’m some shady hoe,

Or am I,

Someone they’d like to know?

 

Regardless,

No ones opinion,

Determines if I sink or swim,

Fuck it,

I am not anyone’s minion,

And no one I’ve met,

Is the artist who formed me.

 

 

The Damned Union

A match made in Hell,

Right from the start,

Like a failed piece of art,

Thrown away,

On a clearance cart.

 

A match made in Hell,

But it was on sale,

And both were buying,

So blinded by a bargain,

Neither could tell,

That the other was lying.

 

A match made in Hell,

It started out well,

But it’ll never work,

Not when both parties,

Are so berserk.

 

A match made in Hell,

They say you never can tell,

But others knew,

How it would end,

Long before it was through.

 

A match made in Hell,

And they can’t change that,

No matter how much,

They bitch and yell.

 

A match made in Hell,

Doomed before,

It ever fell,

No way to win,

Despite the fun it’s sometimes been.

 

A match made in Hell,

What was supposed to be bliss,

Feels more like,

Being locked in a cell.

 

A match made in Hell,

No one wanted to sell,

But when it’s over it’s over,

It’ll never turn back,

Into a sunny field of clover.

 

A match made in Hell,

Regardless of being the ball’s belle,

Evidently,

That one wasn’t worth having,

And had to be sent packing.

 

A match made in Hell,

Left ugly and split,

Chewed up and spit out,

Like old and broken sea shells,

Washed ashore,

In the ocean’s swells.

 

A match made in Hell,

Where nothing happy dwells,

They thought it would taste sweet,

Like caramel,

Turns out it’s rotten,

And it’d be best forgotten.