Promise The ego of a child

Promise

The ego of a child -

And oh the night is black! -

Is easily destroyed

And can't be gotten back.

I'm screwing off the lid

Of the crystal jar

Where my only soul

And the ideas are.

The poems that I wrote

When my heart was wet

Are nothing to the poems

I haven't written yet.

Mensonges

Do people make demands on you?

You'd rather not comply?
Do people want their money back?

Very simply lie.

Are you making promises

On which you must not fail?

Though that is what you want to do.

Tell a little tale.

Does someone say you lie too much

And he is getting sore?
Or you backed into his fence?

Lie a little more.

Are people you want nothing from

Getting in your way

With needs and feelings of their own?

Prevaricate today.

On your tombstone when you're dead,

Or on your urn of ash,

Very likely will be read:

“Here lies a piece of trash.”

 

Jill

Are your children crazy,

Ye of little heart?
Tough love is your answer.

Who's protecting whom?

I broke it off completely.

Gasping just to talk,

I came back. It took a week

To get the dates correct!

I do not like your poets.

They reflect on me.

They are good. And I am good.

A gaggle of bad poets!

Our affair is silly!

Like someone else I know,

I'm blamed for all the ills of earth,

And the death of Christ!

Gary

Perhaps when I'm in heaven

With all the cherubim

I'll have another lover

Gentle, sweet – like him.

I teased him like the bastard

Mental doctors paint.

He made funny faces

And planned to be a saint.

Finally he left me,

Muscular and pretty.

In 1969

I went to New York City.

Everything I wanted

And everything I lack

In a single lover

Who's never coming back.

Except one day he did.

He followed me. He wrote.

I was in Manhattan.

I ignored him, like a goat.

9-24-13

"Pal Joey"

You started out with nothing,

And I hope that's how you end -

Not a nickel in your pocket,

Not a soul to call a friend.

Tattooed like a sailor

And an enterprising fake,

When no one gives you money,

You ambitiously just take.

Everything about you
Has the odor of a fraud.

You hide from the police, but baby,

You're in good with god.

If you like my poems, I have collections on Amazon, both Kindle and paperback.  Type Joseph Hart Poetry in the search bar.  Thanks.