(1)
The more it's broken the stronger it is
it oft occurs during a whizz
now that this is at an end
what oft gets broken is the wind
(2)
The smell of corruption's everywhere
it permeates the very air
an aroma of something rotten
or a bag of old groceries forgotten
what is it smells so much like death ?
sad to say that it's your breath
(3)
A potted flower just now wilted
shriveled up and sideways tilted
the cat has choked, begun to bawl
seeking fresh air down the hall

Crazy, how things add up
and you never would've guessed,
that "less", could've been your lot in life,
or you could've been more greatly blessed.

I could've been someone else
maybe a leader with a cause;
or you could've been a loser
with your life, totally on "pause".

Or maybe an entertainer
living a fantasy on stage,
being careful not to throw a fit
like an artist that's full of rage.

The darkness of the dream
That is the world
Can not stop me
For I am the reality
The one that basks in it.

The child of that illusion
Created by the mediocrity
Imposed by the dream
Of the world
Which is only a fog
Of the true reality

Knowing that for me
There is only one direction
That road I travel
Has not been mapped out
There is no compass
No true north

I’m not going to complain
That my clothes are too tight
And my legs are just sacks of cellulite.

And I won't grizzle and whine
About overstretched skin
The bags or the sags hung under my chin.

I won't whimper or cry
About varicose veins
Viciously throbbing and giving me pains.

I won't snivel or sob
That my vision is blurred
My hips disjoint and I can’t hear a word.

I suppose it’s natural
To be riddled with gout
For my bones to creak and my teeth to drop out.

I've conversed in rhyme
through thought and meaning
needling the hidden stitch
which unravels in verse.

Difficult themes taken from
shallow streams, interrogating
connotation a confessor of
truths, the sterile and the rhetoric.

Speaking of the gray impending
doom meets light of day,
my inner nature this
intolerant creator.

Impressions broil not perfumed
some considered choice cuts
consumed, what never was is
not what can't viewing patterns
from a different slant.

Everyday losers possessing ability
to pretty up the bullshit;
or send it flaming
in vibrant cohesion's
restoring the reasons
for bypassing the banality
of everything, other than
the naked meaningful moment
and place it for all who see.

maybe in the way of owning your loving heart
i might lose the chance and we'll fall apart..
still,of this great day you became the sweetest part
i fell for you not by recession but by means of art

i might disappear right after this poem,
and will be contented with this time for a while,
but forever will i wish i could have a chance to see you again,
without knowing when and not knowing your name..

I remember the way that you touched me
the way that you hand felt in mine,
your lips were so soft
.
In my mind’s eye I capture
the way that you looked at me,.
as if you loved me too much.

Vowed our love was eternal
with every word you uttered,
and deed completed.

But now you’re cold
icy, as frigid air,
the chill winds blow.

I live and breathe despair
but you won’t return.
I am unloved

Wee hour, fresh, shadow moments
and the hour finds me, wide awake,
I'm exploring this personal, quiet-time;
for tomorrow, I've nothing at stake!

Following what fancies my moodset,
relaxing, and calming it would seem;
but, magic abounds in frsh shadows,
where children spread giggles, in each dream.

I've got candles to light the the room's aura;
as silences musicscore plays, tracks...
..with the notes of a theme song so deafening,
I can hear both my ears, making wax.

Decidedly a blues tune
with it's haunting melody,

paving the way
for shades of grey,
as Autumn undresses every other tree;

and I notice in every other pair
of eyes, I look into...

..a tear, with so much sadness
it reminds my eyes of a time I cried for you.

Then, my chest begins to catch it's breath
and my eyes can't stop the "blur",
and I wanna go back to the way things used to be;