Day 77 - Sins Of The Father (poem)

SINS OF THE FATHER

I find tears at times
spring unbidden at the brightness
of that boy's heart.
I'm told

there was a time when
I was of similar outlook, but
I can't remember it.  I can't
remember a lack of darkness
in my outlook.

I know all the ways
I've gone wrong, been wronged
and wish to protect him
from classmates falling victim
to cool, lovers swayed by
others, self-doubt imprinted
by genetics.

I hope
I have the wisdom
to guide him
to be different
than me.

Day 76 - On Poop And Sadness (poem)

ON POOP AND SADNESS

It becomes clearer
with age that what comes
out is largely influenced
by what

we take in.

Day 75 - Empty (poem)

EMPTY

I dunno know
if I'm a gilded vase,
a plain cup or a used
tin can,

but I've got
nothing in me
today.

Day 74 - Cherubs, Naked (poem)

CHERUBS, NAKED

Every morning
they come flitting
into the living room
draped

in blankets.  Shiny
white heinies proclaiming
a beautiful disconcern
for the yeses and judgments
of the world.

Day 73 - Hypoallergenicity

HYPOALLERGENICITY

We live in bubbles
while sticking ourselves
with needles

and call our lives
safer.

Day 72 - Blood Feast (poem)

BLOOD FEAST

You sir
have wounded my lady's heart.
Be it through
casual indifference, purpose
driven spite, or simple
dumb headedness, I now find

that it takes all my focus
not to track you down
and smite you like burnt toast,
rend your flesh like bacon
from the hog, scramble
your innards, and make
a breakfast of your sins.

Day 71 - A Broken Promise To A Dead Man (poem)

A BROKEN PROMISE TO A DEAD MAN

When Ray Bradbury died
I promised his ghost that I'd write
every day.  I made it

67 days before I missed,
and disappeared for three days
like another famous dead guy.

It's just
that my return isn't
nearly as dramatic.

Day 67 - My Novel (poem)

MY NOVEL

It's waiting
there, like a mountain
to be climbed.  A peak

beckoning in the distance.
I know the journey
will be full
of scrapes, blood and moments of utter despair.
Yet

the excitement of the climb
draws me.  All that's left
is to do it.  Actually
do it.

Day 66 - Ball Punch (poem)

BALL PUNCH

This morning
my cat with her curiously brown fur,
and sweet yellow eyes
snuggled up
between my legs, purred
gently, and then
punched me right
in the left ball.

Which hurt so much if felt
exactly like getting punched
in the left ball
by a cat.

Day 65 - Staring Down The Barrel of 40 (poem)

STARING DOWN THE BARREL OF 40

Funny how
you never feel older
mentally.  I'm nearly half

way done
with my time on this planet
as I currently understand it,
but don't feel it.

Too much.

Day 64 - Trying (poem)

TRYING

He shatters like glass
with each forward step. Taking
bats to the body meant
to break the spirit. But

forward
he goes anyway, every millimeter
filled with pain
and frustration.  Bound

by a need to get
it right.

Day 63 - People (poem)

PEOPLE

I don't
like them very much.
Often

the feeling
seems to be mutual.
I would like

to enjoy
others more,
but don't know
how.

Day 62 - To Be Liked (poem)

TO BE LIKED

It's a drug
more potent than heroin,
more enticing than sex.  That feel
of approval from others.  Swept
up in the yesness,
the validation.  It's a lie

that cripples us.  Leads
us to choose popular
over right, comfortable
over just, inclusion
over kindness.  To turn

away from it is pain.
Loneliness and aching worse
than when nicotine leaves your body;
worse than the sorrow when infatuation
ends.

It hurts
to walk alone, until you see
the false smiles and insincere
hugs.  Until you know that you are
always, and never
alone.

Day 61 - Unhappiness (poem)

UNHAPPINESS

It's imprinted, like
the ridges on our fingers.
To change
it is just
as hard.  It requires

what
feels like burning,
pain, a separation
from the comfort of
what we know.  To start over

blank, fresh, open.

Day 60 - Patriotism (poem)

PATRIOTISM

I love watching
The Olympics.  Feeling
a surge of pride
when my fellow citizens
excel.  Taking nothing
from others when they get it
done instead.

All the stories
make me smile,
make me see bridges
instead of walls.  Make me
proud to be
a citizen of the world.

Day 59 - SPF 50 (starter rap)

I'm no rapper, so this is not full length, but yo, this is how I roll.

SPF 50

SPF 50 is what I use
'cause I got less color than Hasidic Jews
No matter how much time in the sun
I stay white like Pale Rider
But like LOTR, put me in water
and Imma Strider

Vampires burn slower
when the sun hits their skin
I'm not evil like them
just got no melanin
Maybe I'll write more
if I survive the pond today
but if I die you'll know why
no need for Mariska Hargitay...

Day 58 - Sight Lines (poem)

SIGHT LINES

Some see
their hands alone,
and how
they can either be open,
or clenched.

Some see
the people around
and how they traffic
in kindness
and hate.

Some see
the world spinning
and wonder how
such tiny spots on its surface
can turn into so much
blooming, or cancer.

Some see
the heavens expanding
and shake their weary
head at the insanity that
a punch still hurts so bad,

but love it all anyway.

Day 57 - Scared Of Hand Dryers (poem)

SCARED OF HAND DRYERS

Well hello there,
Mr.Off The Rack Suit.  It's pressed,
but not tailored. so
you're not quite Willy Lohman
and you're not quite Gordon Gecko.
I'm sorry

that your upward slog
has been
interrupted by my son.  You see
the hand dryers in the bathroom scared him
and that's why he's covering his ears
and screaming.  You may

have forgotten what it's like
to be scared, but let me advise you
to put your fucking face
back in your phone before
I give you
a reason to get twitchy around
unassuming gingers.