Life With Adam

At the mountain's foot lies an ancient sea,

Mined, packaged, and shipped to me.

The old and dead feed the living.

How long can the past keep giving?

I can feel it, the slow sadistic bite

Of barbed blades digging deep to the marrow,

Suckling sanguine soul from my very core.

How do I stop feeding my monster?

You have a plan

We all do

But by four

It's out the door

The moment you step through yours

A sinus minus mucus,

Free of nose blows woes.

Alas, for me, it's allergies.

Oh well, that's how it goes.

In the early light

I shall sit and write.

When my heart is light

I shall sit and write.

At the eve of night

I shall sit and write.

Though my words may be gob-shite,

everyday I shall sit and write.

Easy is the dreaming,

Hard is the doing,

So make sure your dreams

Are worth pursuing.

More and more

I am less,

And I'm afraid

I can't redress

What I've lost

Pour into me,

For I'm nearly empty.

Fill me with love.

Fill me with joy.

Fill me with grief and rage and heartache.

Fill me with the waters of life.

As I lay me down to sleep

I sense something this way creep.

A final thought tethers the soul;

Binding mind to body whole.

When, oh when will it abate?

Only when it's much too late.

No night left for me to rest;

In a moment the sun will crest.

The rays will shine, the dawn will break,

And it will be time to wake.

Resist the itch,

Resist the itch,

Though she be

A persistent bitch.

If you scratch,

The sweet relief

Will only be

All too brief.

Something new

Something true

Something once a part of you

Has been born

Has been formed

Has been sailed into the storm

Your precious one

Finally done

It's time another is begun

I am warden and prisoner.

I hold the keys

And only I can set myself free.

The light is gone but I still see

The beauty lying next to me.

Sight by touch;

Hands and lips.

A gentle press of hips on hips.

An autumn eve in the dark

Forever leaving memory's mark.

Winter nips at my noggin;

cranium cool as a cuke.

Grab your sled, let’s taboggin,

but don’t forget your toque.