2:24 AM

The infant

In my arms

Demands

That she be

The center

Of the Cosmos

The minutes

Tick by slowly

As grandpa rocks

 

The creaking

Hardwood floor

Is trying

To get me

To remember

Some old

Ozzy tune

The minutes

Tick by slowly

As I rock on

 

Selfish now

But in 18

Years or so

She will

Sacrifice

Every part

Of herself

For another

The minutes

Tick by slowly

Prophets of doom

Have always said

That any day

We’ll all be dead

 

The end is near

The veil falls

An Earthquake

Breaks the

Temple walls

Hell freezes over

Donkeys fly

In Chicken Little’s

Falling sky

The Mayan calendar

Runs out

The trumpets sound

The angels shout

The Son of God

Comes back again

A comet brings

A fiery end

Atomic war

Destroys the nations

Shiva’s wrath

Aborts creation

 

Prophets of doom

We still are here

We only wish

You’d disappear

A thousand years

Has passed again

And so

The comet nears

The priests prepare

The virgin lass

And now

The god appears

They play together

In the sun

He looks

Within her heart

And finding what

He’s looking for

He knows

He must depart

The comet circles

‘Round the sun

The god

Soon disappears

And harvest

Is delayed again

Another

Thousand years

 

O Morning Star

How you

Adorn

The sky

Yet break

My heart

For with

Your eye

Upon the

Morn

My lover

Now

Must part

I close my eyes

And breathe…

 

I’m floating

Down a river.

 

Slowly the river

Begins to

Loop lazily

Through forgotten

Valleys of

Timelessness.

Occasionally

I catch a glimpse

Of myself

Floating along

Around a bend.

I think to wave

But we both know

Peace of mind

Is to be had here,

So we breathe,

We breathe.

You get a raise.

 

You smile.

 

Your father dies.

 

You smile.

 

You smile.

 

You smile…

Endeavoring

To write of hands,

And all that they

Can do,

I found the thoughts

I’d jotted down

Just grew and grew

And grew.

 

Handy artwork

Digits ten

Prehensile palms

One for Zen

Call for peace

Without a word

Build a house

Flip the bird…

 

I’m overwhelmed

With hands and so

To finally end this rant,

Instead of listing

All they do,

Here’s one thing

That they can’t:

 

They’re very skilled,

But flesh and bone;

They cannot build

What must be grown.

 

 

On our last day of marriage

My ex-wife gave to me

Twelve beers a-brewing

Eleven burritos baking

Ten tacos toasting

Nine nachos nuking

Eight Eggos waffling

Seven sausage sizzling

Six hot dogs heating

Five bologna rings

Four fish a-frying

Three Ex-lax

Two sleeping pills

And a subsequent

Load of laundry

 

 

Employee of the Month Award

Around my neck was hung

The barrel of my .38

Was pungent on my tongue

A deadly glass of poison

Was lifted to my lips

The suicide solution

Was at my fingertips

But then quite unexpectedly

A cure for me was found

(The way she put her hair-net on)

I guess I’ll stick around