Day Five Hundred Sixty-One

Coming home from Davey Jones Locker, strait to Singapore, it’s been a hell of a ride. The music stopped playing, and some guys monkey was on fire. They were worried about the shed, when the barn was burning down. Thank goodness for Carbon dioxide. Poor suckers would have gone up like a candle.

Now some cat named Dino is scratching a new post, like it’s laced with cat nip. I’ve been alone. My heart like a stone, rolling in the ocean, by whales that cry and shit on fry. Nicotine stains on my fingers, under the thumbnails. My teeth are no pearls, like my mothers.

Same flavor in my coffee, only like the ladies. But of mice and men, make mine like iced. They can not spike the tea with hate, and lace the words sweet. They wouldn’t tweet, because the little birdie isn’t my buddy. I have an account, but don’t amount.

Does money in the graveyard make rich flowerbeds? I want a whole garden. Some how there has to be a way to make some soil? The brutes only want more oil, but my wife wants lace to race.

I read a poet, still alive I think. It’s hard to know these days. When the past gets all jumbled up with the future. I hope she got my message, her book made my night a little less of a hell.

Just jump into Oblivion, maybe there is a door; on the other side to come through to the port of a home, long lost, but never forgotten. Still the days amount to smoke and oil, I try to focus on the nice, but it isn’t ice. Better to be kind, then a rind of some fool tomato. Better yet, let’s peal a potato.

No Soup For You

Mutton today, and bloody well looks like mutton again tomorrow. It’s better than nothing, which would leave a pit in the depths of thy stomach, so be grateful of the food in your gut. Some aren’t so fortunate, but to twist the facts is like drinking salt water. There is but one rule: “Never lie to yourself.”

Disillusioned dreams, make nightmares in beds lovers never slept in. Night terrors go hand in hand with loneliness, you wouldn’t want any other way. To quote the poet, “Ash MoonBlood” He said some great things, but alas he is no longer with us. Dust to dust and ashes to ashes, his lovers tears in the wild, like a wolf howling at the stars.

“I’m tired” He whispered his final breath. Like a candle burned at both ends, it just sends the grim reaper a twinge of guilt; so much so that he feared to take him. This one isn’t like the others.

We are all here to live so well that death fear to take us, tell him where to go packing. Call some other day on some tragic day that we can’t beat. But not today.

To leave you on a happy note, The sky is blue, there is air in thy breath, and heart to beat; if you love with all your heart, then you know that the only meaning you will find is in meaning something to someone else. Never give up, and if you loose flip it upside down. Then it’s still win / win. We want to win where no one has to lose. But who could handle those rules?

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