Golden Chains

A matter of genius in the owner's part,

That when one slave points to his chains

Made of poverty and inescapable debt,

A better-off slave oft jumps up with a start

And denounces his fellow's pains,

Viewing his lamentations as a threat...

For why should he ever be forced to depart

From a system where he's made such gains?

No, he'll fight to keep his links without regret,

Those gold plated chains so dear to his heart,

Shimmer alone successfully constrains

And binds him without a resistant sweat.

Should they still shine when it's his time to depart,

The owner will take the gold from the chains,

And lower him into the earth with a rusted set.

First Day

 

I do not remember that first day
when I decided to put scotch in my coffee.
That first burst of dark roast burned with
the distilled spirits a decade strong.

I do not remember the first day
that I burned through a black label
in the evening after work,
just to melt it all away.

I do not remember the first day
when I got the shakes- too long without a swig,
the bite on my tongue giving me enough
venom to pick up where I left off.

If I could remember that first day
I would bargain like Faust
with whichever kindly deity who would listen
for the favor of redemption.

If I could remember that first day,
A word, spoken through time at just the right time,
to alter the crooked path
that I would find myself stumbling…

Oh, that I could remember,
but I can not summon the memory to save my life!
So why not another venom filled bite
to kill the desire to remember?

…but…If I could remember myself
who I was, and who I wanted to be,
then today would be the first day
that I empty my cup and face the thirst.

Sunday

Ducks

Seven

Calm, floating

A mom and a dad, 

Five little ducklings

Enjoying a nice day

Both the sky and water

A refreshing blue

Wind through the reeds,

Nature's song

Softly

Plays

Another Day

I wake up
Shaking and sweating
Frantically scrambling until
I come to awareness.
I calm...

Just enough. 

I dress, down some joe
And get the kids off to school,
The caffeine and fast pace
Hide my jitters...

Just enough....

I get to work, and right away
Find myself in another ridiculous talk
Not even worthy of an email
But somehow worthy of my life
I try to tune most of it out,
But if asked about it, I'll recall it

Just enough...

The phone vibrates
I know it's them. 
I know I'm late,
and that they'll keep calling
Until I can pay them the minimum
Which is always so much.
I'll beg for an extension
They'll give me a few days
If I promise that I will actually pay them

Just enough...

After work, I go to the market. 
Eggs, flour, milk.
Nothing fancy,  just the basics.
We cant eat like kings,
But with my wife's skills, it will last...

Just enough

At the counter I see a sale:
Chocolates for the kids.
I feel bad, and want to get them some,
I double check my wallet...

Just enough. 

Home, we relax a little,
The older kids play on their devices
The toddler throws his duck in the air
It doesn't fly too high,

Just enough. 

My wife feeds everyone else first,
I feign not being hungry.
Everyone eats their fill,
So I see what's left...

Just enough. 

The night settles in,
And the kids settle down.
We go to bed, 
And after a kiss goodnight,
I pray to the Gods for blessing me with

Just enough.

Who else am I going to vote for?

Would you have me vote for the Vice-Traitor?
The half-crazed Hyena, yukking it up
While Americans struggle? I hate her.
That mad cackler makes me want to spit up
Unable to answer simple questions,
without babbling about this or that
going in all different directions
Her middle-class birth story falling flat,
not that I’m keen to listen to her lies
but to be informed, I must suffer through
in which the whole time I am agonized
by her words, her laugh, and falsehoods she spews.  
Only Trump can spare us from her Encore
So, Who else am I supposed to vote for? 

Butterscotch

 

He licked himself raw, and it happened in cycles
Growing bloody,
Oozy and seeping,
before miraculously healing
and growing peach hair before soon enough
the licking began again.

And his stools became liquid,
his incontinence creating
plentiful putrid pools around the house,
but never where he was supposed to…

I took him to the Vet again, and pointed at his wound
and his weight loss, and how it was the same ol same ol…
and they prescribed the same ol same ol…
….and took my money.

Friends told me to have him put down,
others told me to give him to adoption.
But as a father of a little girl with an Immune disorder,
how could I explain why I was having him put down,
or even put out?

I have no heart to find the words that would be
merely window dressing to a lie,
One that would comfort me would do nothing for her…
that he is draining us of money we don’t have,
So then she will think that we think the same of her?

No.

He is family, and we will keep trying.
It is the only way,
and while I have no clue where the money will come from
I will keep trying.
Because he is family,
and that’s what families do.

What Lies Beneath

 

Festering within
an oozing wound of the soul
Attempts to blot it out,
stamp it out,
Failing.…
it persists…
Festers…
taking its toll.
A sacrifice of dreams,
on an altar of hope,
Abused and advantaged with no remorse
and in silence, soul weeping in fury
at everything lost,
at what little was gained
at exorbitant cost
and seeing it all,
all in vain…
the happiness, the persistence,
the struggle, the resistance,
the surrender…
the pain…

What could be summed up in simple words,
is not proper to know.
But what lies beneath,
never to pass over the tongue or teeth
a wretched realization
as a rolling wave
to drown the heart,
 and drag the soul to a tearful grave.

What shell then, is this?
That it breathes and persists?
It is but a man….

Or at least….was once.