The Last Martini

A cat pic, just because! This is Meeko, he wants me to tell you he said, “meow”.

I've got a bleeding heart on both of my sleeves, but it's easier to get over than a chip on each shoulder.

What is it that the idea of love achieves? I've mentioned forgiveness in poems once or twice, it's nice.

And don't we want love and niceness? "Please and thank you, your highness." Who are we that I granted permission to, the beholden of your royal happiness?

Cut me some slack I'm trying to take the power back. I put these words in non-simple terms to escape the constant attack.

So there's striving and thriving, to push the we back on me. The thoughts of being and meaning and believeing and achieving...

That what I still am: I am still me.

Sometimes I see the face of a stranger and I think to myself, “What kind of poems do you write?”

But not that many people write poetry

And not that many people who write take it seriously

                     But I am me

I see the face of a stranger and maybe what I think is, “What kind of poems could you write?”

How would your words change my life?

What words would you use?

How many pictures would you paint with those words?

This stranger, maybe I should ask them “What would you write about me?”

                  “Or do you even write poetry?”

The shadows that are cast by things invisible

It’s like knowing that someday I’ll have to miss you.

And I know that I haven’t lost you yet

But I still can’t help but have future regrets.

 But I love you Dad and it makes me sad, (& just a little bit mad)

That someday the time we’ve had

              will be all I’ll have.

 So I’m writing this for you

Because I love you and it’s true

That you’ll always be my Dad

Even when our lives are through.

what if i had a project what if i could write down every word what if i could not just be heard                            but be understood

how do i show people who are good at being people how broken i am

 and do i even need to?

maybe it's better if i just stay quiet live, laugh, love? 

well, we all die in piles of our own shit

i hurt; and i don't take it out on anyone else no, i hurt inside because the one i hurt

is myself

and before you call the cops i'll explain that this is a metaphor i've never even cut myself before

the pain, and the anguish, and the hate, and the cruelty

from a young age i chose to direct those at me.

but there is hate. and there is love. and there is peace. and there is beauty. sunrises with doves and rain

...

I had to quit my job today 

I had to leave and couldn't stay 

Sometimes I shake sometimes I cry 

 But I don't have to tell you why 

You think I'm wrong Cause I don't fit the steps to your song 

So sometimes I fake it 

And sometimes I make it 

But know that it's never easy 

I'm not saying that because I think you have to please me 

I'll be marginally unemployable for the foreseeable future 

Because I need an emotional suture 

 I can't explain myself to yourself 

Hell, I can't even explain myself to myself 

And in my eyes I'm just trying to be being 

But to you I'm another malfunctioning human being 

I've tried today and I've tried for months and weeks 

 It's so hard not to sit and weep (it's not cause I'm weak) 

Yes, I put the smile on 

 And consent to sing another happy song 

That's just because I have to do 

And because you want me to 

I can't hold a job and I can't afford my medical bills 

So society and I are at a stand still 

This is who I am and not who I will always be 

Because this is what I have to believe 

There is the kind of person who looks at the person they love

and and they think: "mine" ...and then there is me I look at the person I love and I want. I want you. I want you to be happy. I want you to love. I want you be loved. I want you to be safe. I want you to be well. I want you most of all, to know that I want you to be happy. and I want you to know that you can be happy...

Yes, I love you like that

A clever crow would 

Be smarter than a Zombie