CATNAP

d'Verse Poets Pub

Makes me

wonder

how I

get

any work

done

at all

DUMBASS

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

Ain't it funny

when some dumbass

calls you a dumbass

and you know for a fact that

that dumbass

is the REAL dumbass? 




It's like he's talkin'

to himself

in the mirror

or sumthin'

SQUARE PEG

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

I see you struggling

to reconcile who you are

inside

with that belief system

adhered to so rigidly

and handed down from your

fathers.

And I know so many want

to have a sense of belonging

to something,

but it doesn't really accept

your kind,

and you've known it all along--

but still you try to fit your

square peg

into that round hole

(and they think that's dirty anyway).

Hey

here's something...

it's called THINKING FOR YOURSELF!

Give it a try sometime.

Simply involves learning to trust

your own instinctive and innate
sense of truth

(been doing it since my youth).

Yeah give it a try.

You'll be as giddy

as a kiddie

on a merry-go-round.

As happy as a pig

in slop.

And the great thing is

you won't need to run out and

sacrifice

your first born

when those Vincent Price voices

start playing

inside your head,

because

there are good treatment

options for schizophrenia

these days.

TENEMENT WORLD

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

Poets and lovers

what did we learn

in rooms filled with smoke

inside

this ugly tenement of a world?

Raging against heaven

why do we exist

and

can any singular purpose

be pursued

when all about is duality?

Trying to rewind time

return to Sherwood

or the old woman

who lived in a shoe

where the sounds of

grunting and moaning

could be heard at all times

of the day and night

as her laces came undone

Boning our brains out

with assumed names

under an ashamed moon

your eggs unprotected

and my brain fried

(You're catching on

to how it works--

let's spend some time

with grandma Esperanza)

These masters

these devils

The desperate wannabes

at the karaoke bar

All is self-interest

just as I told you

by the riverbank

when we were seventeen

revealing too much

of a universe

already transparent

to my eyes

giving too much away

spoiling the game

And yet we play on
looking at the world
through rose wine-
colored glasses
raising them high

one more time

just to honor a memory

not totally forgotten