Dark-Poets

Grean tea flavored with lemon

Coffee?

Not for me.

Living during the day,

with urgent delay.

-SIP–

Only

To get the crazy away…

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When I was…

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  I love pocket watches,

to turn  back time

when I wasn’t thirty-seven,

but about eleven.

I could still understand you,

words weren’t a puzzle.

I didn’t drown despair with heavy guzzle.

A dreadful day…

one at a time;

Dark grains.

Through the hourglass.

In this impasse,

feeling like the dung strung on the jackass’s  ass.

Can’t compete with…

This day

about a terabyte

unsorted in my head

  in a solid state

reading and writing

isn’t as tiring

at the same time

  my writing arm is down

crashing

disc

<ERROR…>

  How does it feel

to die on paper?

is the ink bleeding?

  Holocaust survivor Henri Kichka died of Corona

  94 years old,

escaped Auschwitz.

  The Nazi’s started it,

halve a century ago.

The virus finished the job

  Chocking on gas

suffocating from the damp moisture in one’s lungs

  In a different prison all together

Being a bit busy

lost in interpretation.

Things done,

to do.

  Torrent of thoughts,

thinking it trough.

Not enough,

too much.

  Being your own critic,

sick.

  there are not enough seconds in the day,

one idle nanosecond.

ages of regret without end.

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A pigeon named Corona

The old folks are doing well,

Alas not the ones in the old folks home.

Staff are doing the best they can,

but with an invisible virus…

who can tell?

  Dreaming of tough times before,

Yet not isolated as the case may be now.

Of wars won,

The Spanish flue perhaps.

This is different,

Time management unrooted family ties.

In the past,

children were too busy to visit.

Time is running out,

  History…

Hold on,

times are tough,

staying strong.

Let’s think of each other.

Sing the song,

We can’t do it alone.

  Hold on,

That are strange tunes,

not to play on a fiddle.

I’ll built a cathedral with an organ,

the finest for the good few.

Vote for me,

praise me.

I am the star of the reality show,

the biggest showman alive.

  The crisis is subdued…

The news is fake…

and you are:

fired!

I saw the sky naked, joy filled my heart. Bearing witness of such a blessed thing.

Blue made me feel less blue, it flushed me out of hiding my time I have been biding now I gaze upon you, sun spring had just begun

a flurry of green, greeting the world birds take action coupling

Every year the same, but it doesn’t get lame.

Being poor is…

Putting your crying boy to bed into something other than a bed

Eating the same trans-fat rich/nutrient-poor meal day in day out

If reading, only a day old newspaper

Spending your few incomes before receiving them

Not understanding people with money

Being ignored by people with money

Stop counting the leaks in the roof

Catching the water from the leaks in the roof so you’ll have water to spent

Si…

Every generation,

for ten years on end.

The end of hope,

the decimation we defend.

A good time,

a bad one.

How something that meant something,

now it looks strange,

we feel sorrow,

take pity on imperfection that comes with age,

even as a foundation

things die

I believe we need some sweet yesterday,

just pick the rag out of the debris

sniff and snort it,

pixie dust

from times we dared believe

It’s a mournful bat-filled place

keeping a horse-drawn pace.

Remembering the good old days,

when wars still were fought in the open,

with artillery,

not poverty.

Caverns and unstable bridges,

under an eerie moon

drowning in ominous colored fright,

the dark depressing night.

the solemn castle telling about unsound riches

gathered on the poor peasant’ back

so easy to give in

the night will set you…

Whispering sweet nothings,

buttering your bread

smoking a huge cigar

have a bad,

have decency

values go down

  As if I didn’t have any sexual relation

With that woman.

Drowned in indifference

But I also will go under

Disappointment.

  I can’t stand to look at you,

So I am leaving

the mirror

My shrink said it best;

“what about your input?”

  My  diet coach yelled belittling:

‘Do you have any output?’

Every night while watching a certain movie, I answered.

  To lose weight you have weight to gain.

Taste a burrito, have a hundred slices of pizza, drawn in coke.

  Hitting the gym, crunching calories.

I’ll stick with a carrot, thank you.

I sweat butter,

the contents of deepfried crap…

Peddling, sun till sleeping. The city rests quiet, today people stay inside. The virus swept life, bringing it to a crawl. But the mail needs bringing Delivering it can be quiet a challenge, despair or joy on paper, if you want to keep the caper, it’s best you waver, all in denial Peddling, keep peddling

The cage is the television,

max security the Net.

The brain warden patrols without pauze,

They own you,

but you can’t see it yet.

Filling your head,

with tainted beliefs.

In the age of freedom,

you may spend blindly,

shooting up Cobain’ style.

Numbing the pain,

it’s no democracy,

all the same,

only the rich hope to gain.

Oppression is the name of the game.

Sense makes no sense,

what is the…