hamlet revisited…

feeling
discouraged
i told
aunt bea
it’s been
a long week
seems like we”ve regressed
in opening
opportunities
for people
as
a nation
i have
marcellus’s  feeling
something is rotten in the state…
i feel
battle weary
aunt bea
said
i still recall
the day
your grandmother
my
mother
had you
and
your cousin
tommy
help
to prepare dinner
you two
had
to catch
kill
and
pluck a chicken
you couldn’t
kill
anything
so
tommy did
the honors
but
you
were given
the chore
of plucking the features
off the bird
requiring
periodic baths
in hot water
oh
the smell
lord
your face
could have sunk
a battle ship
but
you
completed
the task
just as we all shall now
despite
the smell

chromatic word syndrome…

i wonder sometimes
what is the color of words
that some can’t be heard
leaving lips with the same sounds
yet no audience is found

bogus bounty of dreams…

terrorized tattooed ladies
tiptoed through
donald’s dreams
dancing daintily
across his nose
shaking
baskets of pollen
as if
salting
the earth
so
nothing
more
could grow
and
seeking revenge
for
all
women
treated as
caveman possessions
possessions
to be dragged
to the bedroom
where
more often
than not
nothing developed
thus
he awoke
alone
in a cold
feverish sweat
bed wet
nothing left to do
but
tweet

goodbye my friend…

the words
another good man
done
gone on
sticks in my mind
for
another friend
has taken up
the task
to present my case
before god
as to
why
i should
enter
those
uncharred gates
gates
in
an undisclosed
location
that
we’ve been
assured
entry
with
the right password
or
legal representation
since
my friends
know
i can’t recall
any
of my passwords
and
must maintain
a notebook
just to logon
to my own computer
they’ve been
forced
to
undertake
the project
of defending
my
failures
as
not
blatant
disregard
for
angelic membership requirements
but
as
mere
extended
senior moments
throughout
my
lifetime
i suppose
the complications
of such
a defense
is why
so many
have
left me

hymn to freedom…

pound
the drum
though there’s
no money
in the pot
pound
the drum
warn all
our freedom
can be lost
pound
the drum
awaken
the living
and the dead
pound
the drum
until
your hands bleed
and all hear
pound
the drum
though souls
grow weary
of battle
pound
the drum
pound
the drum
so much
to be
lost
pound
the
drum

what the hummingbird taught…

aunt bea
said
looking
at
world events
these
days
makes one feel
that
everything
under god’s heaven
has fallen
into
complete decay
that
nothing
is going right
nor
can
but
as i look out
my window
and
remove
the shroud
of fear
that clouds
my eyes
then
i can see a world
going about its business
ignoring
the foolishness
of humans
knowing
that
survival
is dependent
upon no one
except
ourselves
we must learn
to adapt
and
force
the course
of tomorrow
into
our dreams
not
into
the nightmares
of
submission