A Little Poetry

I am a professional poet, which some of you may already know. I thought I would give a small sample of some of the recent pieces I determined were good pieces, but not suitable for professional publication.

The many, The downcast, The Children

In the land of the free and the home of the brave
sat a young man locked in his room so full of hate.

He wanted to know how anything could ever be okay
ever since his daddy died and his momma flaked.

It used to be games of planes, trains, trucks and guns,
but then his daddy left to play with sand, fleas and bombs.

His momma used to say, “Daddy’s havin’ so much fun”
when in reality it was momma’s fun that had just begun.

There came a nonstop barrage of new men
and then he was locked up in his room again

hearin’ all those moans, screams and cries
knowin’ then that his momma’s words were lies.

When the day finally came, they told him daddy died
and reality finally became everything he had denied.

Now, years later, with a new man on the throne
he found that pistol daddy had made his own.

Mamma never noticed a single day in his life
and new daddy barely noticed the loss of his wife.


Springtime fallen leaf

(Painfully)
Noticing
the (lack of)
time

that is
(not)
going by

and yet
another day
passes
and you
are
still (not)
here.

What is
here
and
yet
not?

All those lost
before their time

and (your) time
was never to be now
(or then).

And yet
your time
(never)
began.


Gone

We used to meet,
but never eat,
at White Castle
on Monmouth street.

Now it’s just a lot
with shit and squat
where poor kids play
in holey socks.

At home Reap died
and we all cried.
Death to an era
and one last ride.

Feedback is welcome. I would actually appreciate some. I know this is not what I usually write about, but you get a little of me in every entry.

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