Fate

Styles

My verse will supersede me.

My life's an also ran.

The statue of “The Thinker”
Is still my favorite man.

The earth is very dirty,

Opinions very crude.

Cover up the “David”!

Indecency and nude.

The country by the prigs

Was always misconstrued.

With me in the gutter,

What true hearts consider lewd.

5-15-14

Secrets

The mountains he is moving,

Pulling heavy stone!

Comment on his blemishes

And plan to live alone.

Sifting through the reasons,

The things you will not say,

None of them is adequate

To have him gone away.

And hope he will be there

At least another day.

Weep for useless Jesus.

Ask god to make him stay.

Then when you are dying,

Upchucked from the sea

Are all the things you didn't say

Still in memory.

Just a little longer

Leave them still unsaid,

And before you talk,

Discover you are dead.

5-15-14

Fate

Adamantly peeking,

Second-guessing fate,

I feel very foolish

Assuming I'll be great.

When I write a poem

That's neither nice nor sham,

I feel very dizzy

And don't know who I am.

And when I write a song

To make a preacher scoff,

I'd better go to bed

And sleep the whole thing off.

Or I add a stanza -

A harried, troubled man -

That puts the poem back

On the place where it began.

I see on leaving Denny's

The circus left behind

Some souvenirs or people,

Distractions for the mind.

5-15-14