pictures full of smiling Ghosts.
reminding of all that's Lost.
drowsy clouds encased in Glass.
deep cracks that shall never Pass.
reflecting eyes of Despair.
possessing a painful Stare.
belonging to tired Pulse.
of good intentions - bad Results.
foolish veins that like to Trust.
beautiful mind crushed to Dust.
perhaps made from Hematite.
smart, but never quite Refined.
filled by thoughts so bitter Sweet.
merciful, yet guilt-filled Deed.
memories that taste like Lead.
and wedding vows left Unsaid,
to fading smell in Pillows -
of Widowers and Widows....

What have I done?
what's happening to me?
Am I diseased with
the sickness that's infiltrating
the whole nation

A nation of pill popping zombies
that has addicted itself
to the loophole
of "a pill for happiness"
"a pill for desensitization"
"a pill for nerves"
"a pill for life"?

Why have we become a generation of junkies
whose drug is legal
inflicted on us
but degree holding powers
because "they know better"?

Is it normal for humans like me and you
who feel
who see
who taste
who hear
who smell
to be controlled by a singular button
to be confined to a manifesto
of the "latest trend"

Are we all hypnotized
into morphing into the
"perfect body"
"10 ways to get smarter"
"look like this, don't eat"
is it a blueprint set by a superpower
to transform us to identical robots
to make it easier to control us?

Are we slowly walking down the path
of being identical?
Are we losing the only essence of what makes us human?
Are removing our imperfections
and surgically implanting
"my lips should be like this"
"my thigh gap is a must"
"my brain should have a set of guidelines"

What has become of us?
I pity the fish that
flow with the current
I cry over the youth today
I mourn the artists
of yesteryears
I grieve with the widowers
of lost souls

There's still hope
or so I try to believe
and encourage
the dying breed
of
perfectionists
the humble ones
those whose kisses only
land on lips
and not
*****

As a non-golfing husband I revel at tales
Of sunshine filled days chasing small *****,
Some in the rough others in sand,
All these brave girls fighting nature's pitfalls.

I hear of the times the flock of wild ducks
Hindered a drive that was perfectly hit,
And what of those trees that magically moved
With a subsequent shout 'I just want to quit'.

But then I'm regaled with feats of great skill
Such as the time a Birdie was made,
Out comes the flask, big glugs all around,
Magical moments that no-one would trade.

They say Golf's a passion a lifelong pursuit,
One day may be heaven the other pure hell,
Neither cool mornings nor that full midday heat,
Apparently stops that will to excel.

Yet there's one thing I notice each week,
Yes the real pleasure from playing the game
And what's not to like from those magical views
But without one's good friends the day's not the same.

So to all poor Golf widowers awoken by shrilling alarms,
Then never quite knowing what time we'll see our fair brides,
There's a much higher calling we can but embrace,
'Happy wife happy life' the true gift this pastime provides.

I have seen my share of old men
Sitting early in diners:
Widowers, perhaps,
Or never-weds,
Seldom women,
Excepting tired street people,
Tattered bags sprawling
Disheveled out of the wet,
Leaving only when the manager
Steps up with a bottle of soapy water
And a cleaning rag,
The polite symbol of
"It's time to go."

Fast food,
No place to rest,
Up and moving before the family crowd
Can see the riff-raff
Who sat these chairs earlier,
Who hunker now on some lee-side wall
Against the chill spring rain.

Absent minded
by my own volition.
Warmly embrace
mental attrition.
State of rest
is my mission
on listless and free day

hey hey!
Big Bill
a slingin' his heart chords
Endless visions of bright sunny fjords
sigh
I am yet unescaped
            mind neatly taped
to a lonely widowers table

   mind is unstable
           find an old drunkard
untell this dark fable
i cant sleep and im feeling...
rrreaal tired.


blank unaware

can't help but

stare

into

distance.



I am absent

I've heard that my body is a temple.

that disciples once traveled through, they used my ribs
as stairsteps and slept sound in the soft
ventricles of my heart, I've said I used to be soft
and this is mostly true, mostly lies,

you can lay a  f i e l d  o f  c o t t o n  
over  concrete  or cover  granite  in
s  i  l  k  but that does not change the
consititution of what lies underneath
and I have been cold
a bear trap constantly reset, I have been a wolf masquerading
as a girl, slick bricks of ice wrapped in wool

there has been hell in this holy city
and I have been raging through the rooms
scattering caltrops in the halls, wrapping widowers
in smoke, steaking kisses, slamming doors, wreaking
havoc where there need not have been--

Have you seen me? call the troops, have you seen me? fists clenched
temple burning. A chest full burning brambles, hot marble walls.
there is hell in the holy city.


hell.

Quick silver streams over our hair and the blinding secrets of his lines sting us like vaccines.  Revelations Devine in doctors painters and poets whose grand appointments fixate out illness.
You were allergic when reality took his medicine paintings but you covered me in magenta quilts stitched black
Around the lateness of twenty years in a dark widowers red rest warning me about chain less camels and Chinese factories killing our newborns.  I agreed when you said the helpless close up and die shameless.

There's old junior Bobby
Waltzing fine felt elegies
Back stage fronting
Towards his morning
Patrons of widowers
And their crows
Feather coffee
Trying so hard
To tell young
Men what
Their Rose gardens
Once did before
Our now lady returns with
Smiles hoping
The one letter she took
Out of her name
Creates better tips.

When i was a boy i believed
Love could transcend all
I was absorbed by the idea of this
And believed that thats how its supposed to be
But little did i know that was an inflated idea
That would soon bring forth alot of pain
The feeling of assurance
Comfort
A mental link like non other
Is what i thought love was
But the crude reality of it
Is for love to be present
Conditions must be met
A certain question commonly asked
Why do you love me?
Ironically people want to know why
But what if i told you
Unconditional love cannot be explained in theory
This means you will know when you are loved when you have nothing to offer
Not materialistically by emotionally too
Coming to human connections
They might all be as finite as human existence itself
Because simple distance itself destroys alot of the so-called grand emotions we have
The question is why live this vain existence
Of temporary feelings which in truth
Are not real
But as we know
With humans there is always variation
There are exceptions of-course
But it is within my right to say
That its not easy to get this entity
Might I pose a few questions to you dear reader?
Do you think love is just a cocktail of hormones?
Or an idea human beings fabricated?
Or to make sense of how we should interact with one another?
That I do not know
I myself struggle to understand my species
Especially with how they interact with each other
We are cruel
We lie
We deceive
We take
We break
We fake
We are greedy
We are angry
We are scared
But thinking about it
These might be the things that are real
Or I dare say pure in comparison to Love
And conveniently we always find a way
To blame something else for how we behave
Sometimes I think it might not be worth it
Living in an ever growing facade
And yet will i still be human if i don’t live like one?
These are just the writings of an unknown poet
Or the rambling of a crazed individual
But an unpopular opinion will be
Emotions that are not authentic will always fade
Take for example
There are two men both widowers
One remarried the other did not
The one even had a new family
They both still take care of the tomb stones
Who do you think loved their wife more?
And yes you would bring the argument of
“Life goes on”
“One can love again”
But i am nor trying to force an ideal upon you
But these are questions just out there
Another question you might ask
What If I do not find this entity?
In friendship
In a spouse
In a family setting
Would you be disheartened  by this?
The answer is I don’t know
But I do know is
If you are willing to really to connect with people
Do not settle for scraps
Because i dare say
Due to the variation in human behaviour
You will find your people or that person
It might take your whole life time
It might never happen
And sadly we do not have infinite time
The choice is yours
Join the facade
Or have authentic connections
Or embrace solitude