Rosemary, a girl in a woman's body, a fool-hardy-soul
someone who leapt without looking. my so called good friend.
Who dropped Purple Haze into my cooled cup of morning tea,
well knowing my innocence would come to a celluloid end.

Rosemary picked our program for the days events
It was her turn to plan our outing this time.
I told her I had not seen the heart of the city
and I was not sure I wanted to see all of that grime

harangue since landing
yours truly immersed
in a dream-like
fiercesome state of war,
not quite a dream
can be described
as a "hypnagogic state"
while virtually in Singapore,

where Katy Perry
namesake of a lion doth roar
noise amplified courtesy dissonance
while nine inch nails synthesize
scraping across chalk board
evoking discordant soundcloud
foo fighting beastie boys
comprising a quatuor.

When the last fish is eaten,
From a billionaire's raised fork,
And the water is poison,
Will humans become pork?

When money's merely paper,
With pictures of our past,
On plastic-painted vapour,
The future comes too fast.

When the final tree dies,
And Earth turns to dust,
Lay down, never rise,
Stay silent, in death, we trust.

Is my way still going,
And my journey steering right?
My name still worthy?
Cleared from all wrinkles and blemishes?

A vision sighted through teary eyes, scarred shadow,
Divinely scripted, to become many a good to come,
Flies gather, intending to pull out power,
Mistakes and emotions boring its incisors on my lonely street,
Wanting to chew away every strength, hope to survive.

We know starfish live in the ocean.
We know delicate wildflowers grow
between mighty mountain rocks.

We know that layers, upon layers
of sky swells above us, over us...
beyond us.

Sometimes, I think of such things.

However they came to be,
and whoever created such exultation,
I wonder...

do they know me, too?

The endless night will soon appear
And usher all my demons will step in,
As thoughts of long past troubles
Descend and strive to dwell within.

Tragedies and despairs from long ago
Make their presence felt once more,
On these nights that seem to never end
What may be the troubles I'll explore?

The decisions that I might have made
Had my conscience been more clear,
Give way to endless second thoughts
Which churn within my darkened sphere.

I've lived long enough,
but not long enough
not to miss it when it will go.

Seems I am just now
getting the hang of things.
Not all of them, to be sure.

But certainly all of the beautiful things.
Those that began long before me
as dust and dirt from the stars.

of scorpion stinging poison us marriage,
whereby the missus and I
experienced genesis as
mama and papa respectively.

(jest kibitizing)

thus explaining why I
(a sixty five year young adult)
joined blue oyster cult
to live out my dream as
a Norwegian bachelor farmer
yours truly doth exult.

Too much alcohol
Creates A false sense of joy
Makes us prisoners

Each morning I wake up with a new wound.
Unpleasant reminders of the hurt I’ve inflicted.
Not only on myself, but others.
When everything seems fine, I cry.
Drops fall as I wonder how all my past friends are.
Are they happy? Do they still think about me?
Do I even want to know?
My brain cages me from reason as I grasp for a sense of meaning.
Do I find one? Maybe not.
I'm stuck in a spiral of regret and the void beckons me closer.
Full of grief, I'm my own enemy.
I wish someone would show me what to do.