August

 For the whole month of August I did not write a poem,

When September came I said, it is time to get goin',

For when the summer came, I gave up in disgust,

"It's too hot to write", said I,  "in the month of August"

To commemorate this dry and barren wasteland

I purposed to make good,  snatching keyboard to hand,

Though it's over and gone I feel that I must

Commemorate, that my memory ate, 

The Month of August

For heat haze and blur of the mind

And time too, the thief, had been too unkind

And though I swore I would never go bust,

I look back and lament

The month of August

Mothlike the month eats away at me like rust,

Leaving holes in my memory,

Of the month of August

Juxtapositions (of various aspects of my health and mental wellness)

A limp is developed to spare a limb and/or joint that is in pain 

And I limp on both legs for that reason, 

Accordingly neither limb is spared.

I cannot  simply accept the pain and resume a normal walk.

My legs talk one to another in harsh tones,

Recoiling and advancing in returning turns,

My knees scream at each other like a warring couple.

I often forget about my memory problem

The stress of staying calm so I don’t have a heart attack is giving me heart attack inducing levels of stress,

I can't see the damage to my eyes when I examine them in the mirror

I often forget about my memory problem


My fear of death is resolved only when I die

I often remember my many forgettable problems

I also often forget about my memory problem

Resignation

 The day I resigned 

My resignation ended.

If The Thief Had Lived

 If the thief had lived 

He’d have fucked it up

He’d have fallen down 

He would have sucked 

Every drop of blood

From that forgiveness cup

And his golden efforts 

Brown enough

Only for 

The bowl to flush

And my father once told me 

About a man of homilies 

Who said if you could lose salvation's crown 

It would be better if we held them down

In the baptistery 

And let them drown

Fortunately for himself, the thief died 

And that day was welcomed to paradise. 

I weep for you

 You have the heart 

Of a man who has no heart

 The hardness 

Of someone who has worked too hard 

At a task that no one asked you to perform 

You were formed 

Calloused in the background 

You’ve been doing it so long 

That now you can not back down 

Doubled down on destruction 

In the background it’s been going on 

Like a bike downhill 

You peddle still

But the biting point has gone 

Against and because of your will

You travel still 

I still see you as a young man 

A young man 

With no firm plans 

But a baseless hope 

That all will work out well in the end

Well

It’s now the end 

And I weep for you now my friend 

Where did you get to?

What did you mend 

Is this the terminus 

Or merely a bend in the road you can’t see past?

Fat Man

Oh dear, how bad can this platter be?

I'm a fat man, trapped in a thin boy's mentality

And I don't have a metabolic anatomy 

Anymore to eat all that I care to

The taking the piss then, would now seem like flattery,

I wish some angel would come down and batter me,

Heavily, heavily, that heaven would flatten me,

You know I'll weigh so much less when I'm there

Yes, I know, I've outsourced accountability

And every excuse I make falls right back on me,

And I am deserving of none of your sympathy,

But I got so stuck that I'm scared,

So numb it looks like I don't care

 

Rebel

 A rebel, without a cause,

Without a pause

Without applause

You've heard them all

And what is yours?

I'm feral but without claws 

I'll hiss for milk, but stay outdoors

And who, my dear. and who are you?

A Rebel yes? But without a clue?