Not Long Left Poems

The brutality of age and neglect is sprawled
...

asked how you felt,
weary eyed
you replied,
you felt,
...

under the late lights of the night,
warm and at futile ease,
poems flow, a mind is appeased,
typing rhythmic words of little worth,
...

it was the blackest of nights,
almost imitating my thought and mood,
all was quite apart from a few fox fights,
and the cloudless moon was nude.
...

I had known it was coming.
But as a child may put a
promised scolding from
a returning work weary father
...

Often I think just how
nice it would be
to rid myself
of this addiction
...

Market my addiction
in a glossy magazine
...

If freedom of man comes at a price
bought by fear, intimidation and hate
I would think hard I would think twice
before it happens and its too late.
...

Shattering the fragile peace of sleep
sirens, sharp and sinister startle the senses.
Flashing blue lights glitter ball the bedroom
luring the silhouettes into revealing themselves.
...

Beat my breast to numb your pain
Cry endless tears, call me names.
Bury yourself in my open arms
Hold in your hands her silver charms.
...