Sweet Deal

Bread and butter jam

honey into buzzing guest

sweetening the pot.

Another Way Out

There is a way out

But you are not even looking

And even he despises you for it

Can’t believe you are that stupid

or that lazy.

Woman, get out of your own way

the door is unlocked.

Prove them wrong

Prove to yourself

that you are not that lazy, beaten

or that occupied.

The fields are green

ripe with golden fruit

Clean your eyeglasses

and look

Remember the full moon.

Prepare for winter’s fall,

But do go.

AND find your passion

Breathe the salt air, taste orange glee

Pick the pink wild flowers

Place them

gently in your hair

and sway to the rhythm

of your purple heart.

Put down the crying towel

it is meant for another

It is meant to be a temporary solace

a place to reflect

pool your options

dream and

finally, to turn away from.

Open the door

child

and find

another room to dress

to plant those flowers

bring your good cheer.

The other BIG GUY upstairs

expects so much more

from you.

Do leave lollygag hill

and find your true self.

She waits

by the old cistern

filled with muddy water.

She knows your smell

and she still waits

and marvels at the time.

The Cross of Acumen- star date 4026.6

"The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say." ~Anaïs Nin

The Cross of Acumen- star date 4026.6

To the distinguished orator of the bald sector

Wizened Priest of Proprietary Advancement for the Betterment of Intellect

Second Class Alpha Romeo.

It has been brought to our attention

that Alpha and Omega are in dire need

of follicles. No reds left. And the browns are rapidly dwindling

only the bleached blonds are still abundant 

Whether this is sufficient cause for alarm is debatable

since we still have ample blues, lavender and green

at the Hair Bank in Geneva.

Future transplants have been relegated

to the gamma quadrant chartreuse sector

nine parsecs away in the Gamma-Orion system

For the seasoned helmsman

take a left at Saturn’s third ring

and hang right for about

two hundred years

that should get you there just in time for

a Soylent Green dinner

and the meeting for the better understanding of

learned and bald high priests.

Do remember not to shave

before you beam down to the planet

should you have any hair left on your body

it is a cinch

you will be reassigned

to the nubby nymph seminar

taking place at the same time

different building.

One word of caution

scholarly activity

at the seminar is strictly verboten

lips have been detached

and tongues completely severed

keep your typing fingers

in your pockets

especially the digitus secundus

as we are not responsible

for any loss of extremity incurred

on this top secret mission to the far reaches of the galaxy.

Truth and opinion

can be misconstrued

as a lethal weapon

within nubby gnarly nymph lands.

Remember your primary objective

is to harvest the red and brown hair, which by the way is exceptional

and refrain from any and all philosophy…

Keep your principles and ideas hermetically zipped or experience the consequences.

Dismissing Insults

“Re-examine all that you have been told. Dismiss that which insults your soul.”~Walt Whitman

Dismissing Insults

That would be karmic

if the soul could reexamine all that it’s been told

could dismiss insults

walk around as if

the world couldn't touch it

the crux of the matter

is the soul is not insult-free

nor does it wear a ball gown.

On most days

it has to pay the toll

before it can get out of jail, travel to exotic places

before it is free to move around the Monopoly board

accumulate properties

build wealth

behold beauty, wrap its arms around it, draw it near

It would get frostbite

here in New York

have to develop a tougher skin

build a bigger closet

to store all its stuff

especially now

since the earth is warming

The soul would need galoshes in every color of the rainbow for the mad, wet, frigid Spring days here, for when its ego is insulted. The long days when the puddles deepen to small lakes, reflecting back on the crooked branch in its family tree

a snarled thorny Kiawe, longing for a totally blank bank to rest on.

The End As We Know It

Hark, for the end times are upon us

most will sleep through it

right up to the part where we can no longer

fill up the tank and drive to WalMart, or anywhere.

The 30% off coupon at Kohl’s

will expire right along with

our lifestyle

causing our evil twins to rise

like the Zombies that they are

instinctual, without a conscience, profanely

walking the earth

unable to find simple antibiotics or aspirin

back to fire without matches

Cigarettes, obesity and GMO’s won’t kill us

but the seniors living in tunnels and caves after electricity, searching for a triple A battery, might.

And if any survive

within three generations

they may revert back to

wearing animal skins

and wielding stone knives

their incisors will lengthen

and their focus will be singular;

their new communal directive will be to

track down the Mormon pantry and something called a can opener.

Inspired by James Howard Kunstler at the 2014 Woodstock Writer's Festival