The Dusk Of Winter On The Ides Of March

The ides of March is upon us once again.
On the cusp of Spring just a year ago
I was sick, resigned to my bed,
curled into myself
in the dark
fairly sure that death was near.
Now
On the dusk of Winter, at this moment
I am inclined to see the best:
With you, the contrast
is might’ stark,
and
with the cold concluding, I end my refrain

who reads these?

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Ambivalent God

To feel spited by fate
is an ill informed arrogance.
Given that we
live under the roof
of an ambivalent God
who will at times
sneer in contempt,
and
at other times
couldn't care less.

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See: McSaddle To Direct 9/11 Romantic Comedy

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What You Don't Do

There are times when your
course is plotted more
by what you do not do
more so than
what you can make happen.

How you don’t aggress
has a lot to do with how
you don’t embarrass yourself

Sometimes knowing the odds are stacked
can keep you from a
defeat that’s
at best
emasculating;
at worst
a live testament
to your worst
and
how your best
will always fall short.

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Something To Lose

Sometimes I am asked: “what’s your type of woman?”

It’s tough to say
Because, it’s just that
I know what I know
And
I like what I like.

If I had to say
I would have to say
with a thoughtful sigh
that I like a woman who smiles at me
with sincerity
and with kindness
that I simply cannot refuse to return
with ebullient
enthusiasm;

who now inspires
Newfound Nervousness
because now
I find that I have something to lose.

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Pills As Skills

The skill is the pill
that lends to knowing
where it is you're going a
and where
you'll get your next thrill.

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Cherries & Cream

No one told me that I could have Cherries and Cream.
I convinced myself that it'd be too sweet
anyway.
Besides,
it
wasn’t anywhere on the menu.
But they made it for me special
‘cause I asked nicely.
Now and then you get a break.
It's More then
than now
and
not often enough on this Earth venue.
But sometimes someone slips you a treat
and sometimes a good soul holds you in high esteem.
And with surprise love and random kindness
they serve you up some Cherries and Cream.

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Whom The Necrophile
Seeks To Defile

I must be a necrophile
since you're the one
I'm out to defile.
You're flesh is still pink
and you still smell like jasmine-ginger
but your lips taste blue like it's the flavor
they might call The Ironic Injure:
the kind that you spit before you savor
and you embrace fully
'till you're as dead
outside
as you are
in.

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The Ice Makes Me Stumble

All there is now is the anguish,
terror and anger
against the demons
I've been unable to vanquish.
So clear as danger
in the winter dusk,
but more cold
and more dark
as the crass wind cracks my face
and the ice makes me stumble.

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A Warm Desolate Dune

I thought maybe we could get a Kitchenette Hotel
Somewhere in Key West or Key Largo
We'll do all we wanted and no soul we'll tell
how we got out each our own perilous shell

When the Sun says it's done and up comes the Moon
It is time for all those hints and clues
to finally play out and pay off sometime soon.
under a blanket on a warm desolate dune.

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The Sugar Dances In My Fingers

The sugar dances in my fingers
when I have it in me
or if it's in some tea.
But no matter.
It seems that no
such sweetness ever lasts or lingers.

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