Chased Through a Town Psychotic

Beating melancholy away with a short stick

And getting shorter.

Disposition unsuited for all I throw at it.

Time too ragged a road to traverse.

The future as unclear as the past I imagined

Still:

Just carry on.

Head up.

Breathe.

With patience and faith nothing is permanent.

At least I am told.

typewrittenword:

by e.e. cummings

writeoneleaf:

---

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Snap. 

at attention

gaze instantly moved

from chosen activities

to attmting to find

the source

of the - 

Snap.

And again it goes

somewhen in the abyss

of the soft focus.

The lost abstract

of my peripheral.

How then do - 

Snap.

I hear it 

repetitions of 

the unknown.

For how can I hear-

Snap.

If I am alone

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.


--Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

	- Elizabeth Bishop

 Unscheduled

is my life

never occuring

as it should.

I’m not one 

for planners

or agendas

but I just want

(deserve dammit)

for things to appear

in order,

in line.

No more 

“If it is

meant to be”

bullshit.

I want 

sweet distant eventual

in the 

barren bitter present.

I want (deserve

demand desire)

my winning prize.

This cosolation 

This pittance

of my needs

useless.

“embrace, the night”

As I lay, drunk by lack of sleep,

I long to hold someone in my arms

To feel the warmth of another encased in me

i need a person to hold onto

as this reality slips past

and the dream world begins.

I need a link between the two 

Someone to share that closeness

that tender act of prolonged contact

so under appreciated by the wham-bams

the late night calls for sweaty, sinful contact

My arms grow week with lacking

I do not want atrophy of muscle

and feeling to set in. 

Let me this small pleasure

If only for a night.

quicksummary:

I am a shameless voyeur who will use my gift of True Poetry to figuratively insert myself into everyone’s personal business because I am American and I love you.

FABULOUS