a murmuring

When young I’d occasionally have this strange experience of myself or some portion of myself reverberating. It’d come when weary or when exceptionally relaxed. Sort of a murmuring, a shadow of being occurring in its own way, barely perceptible but still there carrying on an indecipherable, wordless back and forth between ordinary reality and something else. I mention this now while experiencing side effects of cold medicine and caffeine blurred together into foggy mind. A different experience, but reminiscent of the memory of that rather blurry sense of self from years ago. Perhaps the boundaries of being are in constant flux, always reverberating and inextricably intertwined with all the rest. Maybe at times we have some perception of the whirring as we’re tossed together. WHEE!

everything right now

All real or imagined immediately in this moment,
today and forever whether you like it or not—
Breath by breath nonsensical, ephemeral reality!
This isn’t poetry, it’s real, incongruous, messy life.
I’ve surely had too much drink, too much everything.
Such fleeting, visceral, sloppy un-reality—
Sure to be gone in a few blinks…a sneeze-blast,
an epic bean-fueled bout of excessive flatulence.
Continuing mayhem whether you like it or not.
I do and I do not, so what? Wanna fight about it!?
I don’t want to fight. Life is too terribly short and we
all hurt, all tears salty, all blood red. Not worth
the pain, not worth anymore pain. Love those you
love with all you’ve got and consider carefully why…
why not the others? Are they any less worthy?
Tomorrow, Tuesday, will surely be today by then.

We all must face the minotaur in our own way.


everything is nope
forever mope nope!
tired old trope nope!

disturb the peace,
unleash the fury,
fight the power—

how’s about we elope,
chase down antelope!?


infirm and feeble,
break out the endoscope—


so pathetic, like blind men
with their elephant grope.

Have you lost all hope?

still got some HOPE.

n o p a n a c e a

no panacea— no simple solution, no figuring it all out
the ducks will never stay in a row, those fickle ducks!
getting ahead won’t happen or it won’t last for long
nothing will last — all wells run dry  — endurance falters
new ailments arise that the usual remedies don’t touch
our security, too, is volatile; our safety an illusion
tonight our days have definitely diminished by one.

so what’s the point, how to go on?

struggle forward for shit’s sake!
grin and surge headlong into the abyss
forgetting the snares and gnaws at your feet
to hell with your insignificant flaws or regrets
that extra doughnut you should’ve skipped—
go on from here, make it real, make it happen
and don’t be such a selfish ass along the way,
help another along and be kind, you smug punk!
it wouldn’t hurt to smile a bit more either,
maybe a little humor could ease the burden
of someone in pain; so don’t take yourself too
seriously, never take yourself too seriously;
I mean, look in the mirror— what a shit show,
a cruel joke, what an old saggy skin bag! HA!

None of this sound very good? Well, run to your mama then.

This messy life, it’s what we’ve got. Have it, have it now!
Enough wishing for something else.
No more bullshit fantasy.
The daily struggle, the bonds between us, the agony and joy.
The apathy and complacency, YUCK!
Day in and day out, our best work. Our progeny.
Our precious, fragile lives.

vagaries of life

the vagaries of life
are precisely like,
like nothing at all;
let’s not settle for any
contrived analogue.

the hell you want from me,
a tidy little metaphor?

nope, sorry about that!
instead you’ll endure

so go on anyway.