The Paranoid

The Paranoid

A paranoid believes

There's something wrong with people.

So I am paranoid. The common man

Is bigoted and mean.

And drunks are loud.

Superior in sanity,

They plunder and avoid

The weak, and scourge

The ineffectual.

The 60s were the years of civil rights.

Today Republicans have got control.

This is life. The end of life.

The one their Jesus dotes on.

10-11-13

 

The Drunks

They clap their hands

And pound the table,

Yell and shout and laugh -

If this is laughter.

It's not like any happiness

I ever heard before.

It's Thursday night.

The bars are closed.

The theater's at Denny's.

Many children old and dying

Playing games with god.

10-11-13

Jill & Shakespeare

When I write a mediocre poem,

You make me like it, even when I don't.

Shakespeare who was handy with inversions

Created beauty breathing,

And the breath of inspiration

Filled his lungs. Genius was his wont.

Genius is in those who are sincere,

And grief in him who throws away

The thing he holds most dear.

10-11-13

 

Bigot Games

Playing little bigot games

Because somebody's – what?
My pompous father, bitchy mother

Were adepts at this.

As though somehow their pointless lives

Were better than the others'.

If for a moment they could come

Out of the grave and look

At where they are and what they are

And will be there forever.

10-11-13