“Three More Letters Than You”

They walk among you

with cards in their pockets,

names full of alphabets,

knowing all and all is knowing.

Three more letters than you.

Belligerent scholars angered with

the world they seek to amend.

The crimes committed by those

holding themselves in equal esteem.

Three more letters than you.

They say it’s a goal and an honor

to have the pleasure of adding such

accomplishments to their stations.

But fear you must, what they may do,

Those who have, three more letters than you.

“Thoughts From an Outcast”

I wonder what the beached whale thinks

when it crashes on the sands of some

cold-hearted shore in the mist of dawn.

Pushing and moaning with all its might

to set itself free from the jaws of death.

Or perhaps it welcomes the stale

doomed air of suffocation and despair.

Years of swimming in solitude,

cut loose from the pod in a panic

or severed from ties too loose.

Who can say what the weary soul

wonders when it finds itself in

the company of kindhearted hands.

A gift so grand that few are given,

a second chance at the depths of the sea.



Hundreds and thousands of hidden claims

revealed through moving pictures and frames.

Filtered thievery and rose-colored lenses

aimed at the interference of one’s own defenses.

Thought to be true but no longer new,

revelation is discomfort and feeling blue.

So grab your popcorn and pull up a seat.

The sequel’s arrived and on repeat.

Seen it before I think you might,

the movie of Life, sure to bring delight.


“A Day in Hell”

Waking up is the worst decision you

make when you spend a day in hell.

Choices seeming wise soon turn stupid

when wrong after wrong pile on like

never-ending pounds of fresh sh*t.

Liar you may call me if you’ve never

met me but I advise you to believe the

obvious truth that this is the worst end

you could have on a peaceful sun’s day.

Best intentions and past assistance mean

nothing to those who witness

false first impressions without intent.

Assumptions they’ll make are the fault

of their own and nothing on you.

Just smile and forget their small-town

minds and remember that somewhere,

sometime, the day of tomorrow will arrive.


“This Chicken Was a Fascist”

Look at these eggs as they stick to the pan,

four yolks beaten to death as no one can.

A teaspoon of milk and and a glob of butter

taken from the strongest cow’s utter

couldn’t make these weak whites shudder.

My whisk can’t fix this breakfast bisque,

and I dare not take no other risk.

My cooking stinks me thinks is clear,

the damage is done, and quite severe.

Millions dead from the taste of salmonella,

and no one thought to add the nutella!

What more can be said Mr. Televangelist?

This chicken was a fascist!