Mangy balding dog of a night
poor and patchy thing
of wretched countenance
scratching,
chasing dreams around the basket,
you made my head an insect
one of your hopping fleas,
a buzzing nameless fly
which skims the conscious pond
but fearful of the darkness never dives too deep,
a restless twitching larvae, counting pointless sheep

A house upon my shoulders
with a garden for the mind,
an address the earthly body
could never hope to find

There are tulips in the gutter
perfect blooms,
destined for dinner with a friend,
they were meant for the table
but alas she was unable to attend

What is left,
what remains
beyond pain at my leaving
as memories fade
at the end of your grieving
when the tide in which you wade
is not so cold and not so deep
what then my love
which memories will you keep,
the echo of my voice
wrapped in memory,
pressed in a book
will you take a look
but not too hard,
don’t stay too long,
remember me fondly
when I am gone
then take down my picture
and carry on

Roll up roll up
put down your pennies
see the man who thinks he is Napoleon,
watch the lunatic dance on the White House lawn
laugh at his crazy utterings,
sitting on his throne with a plunger for a mace
and a toilet paper crown
isn’t it time we took him down, and removed him from display
gave him his meds and tucked him away in some secure place,
a safe and comfy padded space
for the good of everyone get him off show
the King of Bedlam has to go

I want to unplug
sever all connection
I’m long overdue
for a period of reflection,
time to spring clean
dust my mental shelf,
remove all the cobwebs
and try to find myself

One life,
one light to shine in our allotted hour
a single strutting chance upon the stage
a single line writ large upon the page,
a chance to love, to live, to give
and what is more,
one entrance and one exit, no encore