Gary Diamond Poems

What really goes on in the deep recesses of a man's mind?
The whole cluttered story of dream-filled sleep as it unwinds.
The random assortment of thought and fancy.
It's all being re-arranged by your brain.
...

I do tend to enjoy the whiskey.

I tried the rum.
I tried the vodka.
...

I don't know how it is, or why it is, but it's certainly there.
I've seen perfectly normal, somewhat intelligent people
Suddenly lose all track of time and all sense of place
And it seems to affect most of the human race,
...

I don't know how it is, or why it is, but it's certainly there.
I've seen perfectly normal, somewhat intelligent people
Suddenly lose all track of time and all sense of place
And it seems to affect most of the human race,
...

There are lots of covers.

Ones that contain a book or set of poetry, for a start.
Another would be a new version of a once-great song, for second, and often ruined at that.
...

I'm not one to moan.
Not to others, no, I barely complain.
But some things need to be shared
It's what keeps us sane.
...

Yes, long gone is the gentleman.
Long gone are the days of suits, ties, coattails.
It now seems unusual to wear a good hat, when immigrant-made sportswear will do.
It now seems strange, and it really shouldn't.
...

Seems like a silly enterprise to me.
A bunch of secondary school dropouts who were a little good at art
Just barely.
...

Poets are supposed to write about the pretty things.
Poets are supposed to turn around anguish in the last lines.
Poets are supposed to make life a solvable conundrum.
Poets are born to be obsessed with what only matters
...

Santa's a funny old thing.
Not as old as Jesus
Just as revered
Although Coca-Cola
...