...that sinking feeling

When you go to a new place,

With new people

And you hope theres that one person

Who's going to show you kindness,

Who's going to understand,

Who's going to help you get through it,

But there isn't.

And you realize

You're on your own,

And you always have been.

Madness is a kind of sanity.

Indulge before the breaking point,

or risk shattering.

Risk a numb mind, an unfeeling heart,

and that's just to start.

Compulsions to stress and delusion,

wickedly depressing confusion,

lack of communication, denial

and suicidal musings bound

to confound and constrict

happiness within,

to the point of hurting yourself

merely to convince

yourself you are real,

between cycles which spin

and twist and spin and twist and

bite at your soul's infinite,

compel the muse to self-mutilate,

and hate the things it trusted to be

her inspiration's kiss, blissfully transcendent.

Instead, a proclivity to

d e a f n e s s to that which is

beautiful and rich, 

and a propensity for 

b l i n d n e s s to finding the 

panacea meant to cure all this.

Madness, that is.

Happiness in disguise.

Truly fulfilling. Truly ingenious, and oddly wise.

Indulge in this,

from time to time.

A harmless flight

from the chaos of society.

And once you've had your fill,

ease back down, and 

experience the thrill

of laughing at these maniacs

with sad faces and dilapidated lives,

knowing full and well, you are this, 

from time to time.

While you endure precisely the same pain,

but feel no remorse, and no shame;

acting not on your agony,

but the interpretation of its meaning.

Appreciating the contrasting shades,

cavorting amongst the haze,

the dazzling hues of all this.

Madness, that is.

belly flutters 

and wine uncorked

work status 

to background buzz

hold it off 

taking moments

push the weights 

sit in bubbles

cooking eating

reading watching

loving sleeping

same time awake 

yet no alarm

nothing stops 

except the guilt

take a back seat 

just a bit

three blinks gone

it’s my weekend 

leave me be

busy friend.

Peering over the horizon, sneaking up and lying low

A soft, pale yellow begins to show

These first, shy rays project a subtle light 

And cast their penetrating glow out into the waning night

From deep within their resting places, shadows begin to yawn and stretch

They emerge in contrast like the graceful lines of an artist's sketch

Beams of light glint and gleam as from the dew they are reflected

In tiny drops that leaves and grass have silently collected

The world is angles:

Mine and yours and his,

The sides we see and others miss. 

Each side a path - 

Walk till our legs give out,

And then back home along that route.

To proud estates

Of space more thick than thin,

Amplitudes emblazed by all our sins. 

Deeds shared by many

Far and wide, 

Obtuse and bright alike in mind. 

Declare their thoughts - 

Flying like moths to light,

Oh what a shame so few are right.

Trump does the hocus pocus

And that’s what he’s all about

He puts his right ass in

He puts his right ass out

And shakes it all about

He makes America a joke

And that’s what he’s all about

He spews his bigoted views

And shakes it all about

He promises to make us great

But declared bankruptcy himself

Inherited money from his father

And that’s what he’s all about

A Napoleon in a Trump suit

Throws tantrums left and right

Can’t fire heads of other countries

So cry, baby, cry like an infant

And shake it all about

And do the hocus pocus

That’s what he’s all about.

Only knows business

Can’t understand stem cell research

Would reinflate housing bubble

Promising economy stimulation

Aiming darts at dart board but missing

Screams for more and more sanctions

Likes word but doesn’t know its meaning

Says pull yourself up by bootstraps

But they can’t afford bootstraps

So cut the programs that get them on feet

Yes, do the hocus pocus

And shake the impoverished all about

Claims blacks and latinos commit the crimes

Break illegal alien families apart, send them back

Calls them rapists and criminals

Promises Mexico will pay for wall of discrimination

Trump is racist to the core

Disdains women and calls them bimbos

That’s what he’s all about

Moral character has taken a walk

Where shady Trump is concerned

Bulldoze everything that gets in way of progress

That’s his mantra, sing it loud

Draft dodger sings “My Country Tis of Thee”

Impulsive and unwilling to compromise

Shake it all about, pull wool over eyes

Fool unworldly citizens who can’t think

For themselves, praying to Trump for salvation

But he does the hocus pocus

Doesn’t turn himself around

Shakes his ass all about

And that’s what he’s all about.