Seeking

Jill

I was writing well

Verse I couldn't sell,

Loving it until

I discovered Jill.

She crammed my skull with praise,

Quite enough to raise

A beggar from the dead,

Like no one ever said.

And I became a crank.

My poesy turned rank,

And even made her scoff.

Then she drove me off.

A year since then, or two,

A lush green beanstalk grew.

I love my verse again.

Praise can do you in. 

 

Waking Up

I just woke up crazy,

Groggy, couldn't talk,

Thinking of the one

Who turned my world to chalk,

Got myself to Denny's,

Drank a cup of joe.

Again I am alive.

Why, I do not know.

Three people in a week

Said my verse is good.

How to make it famous,

Like Keats, like Proust? Like wood

Turning into marble

On a Grecian shore.

She got it all for nothing,

And now she's after more. 

Lines

I've done bad. But never have I done

So calculating, lizard-like and cold

A thing to anyone. Perhaps she's dead.

My father would full throttle damn to hell

The girl who brought my soul to atheism,

And set me free.

Love

He has a friend. But I'm not good enough.

And another whom he much prefers.

A woman who would crap upon the pope

If it brought a buck. Her facile mouth

Puts out its constant daily wealth of lies

To get her way – and everything she can.

What is love? Attributed to god,

Which they claim that he personifies,

Centerpiece of every family -

God love the misbegotten family! -

Soul of every song preceding Dylan -

 

Hope

There's nothing I can do

But simply hope and let her.

His eyes are good as mine,

And his brain is better.

One day soon perhaps

She'll push it all too far,

And lose my house, his money

And constantly the car.

She never did a thing

For someone to call sweet,

The unpaid loans, the lies,

The meretricious cheat.

 

Seeking

Beware the scary word! She is a liar.

Nothing that she says can be believed.

You knew it all before. Did you forget?

That someone half so dear and smart and pleasant

Would be alone and seriously think

He has to stoop to this to have a friend.

The Woman

I watch him give his money and his heart

To she who's only there to get the money.

A brilliant man who looks in funhouse mirrors

When he sees the people in his life.

Her moves are clear, her gambits and her talk.

Like death I hate her. When she's in a grave,

Maggots can not eat her. She is stone.

Every word she says is utter fiction.

She doesn't care. As sure as god is dead,

This scheming reptile doesn't give a damn.

Ugly as her nature, she is vile.

He asked me to be nice so she will stay.

I try. The ruse is difficult and fey.

He's a quiet man who wishes peace.

I try. This doggerel is my release.