Seule

Yellow-stained walls,

empty halls.

 

Once filled with joy, and too bright for the eye

now is dull droning, lifeless and gray.

 

Could it have been me that pushed them all away?

No.

They are ravenous and vacuous,
thieves and peeves,
morons and pee-ons,
are riddled with addiction,
and full of disease.

They are reprobates
who masturbate
to whatever filth that they please.

They are no better than wild animals,
contorted and caged.
They have no higher purpose
than to drift and to age.

Please.

Just leave me alone,
for can you not see?
That everyone in this world is devoid of standards,
with the exception of me.

Drifts

Whispers of winter

Drift over pearl dunes and dry cheeks.

Under sun dogs and over black bears.

 

Sleeping giants.

 

Rushing into the windows of a smoking traveler.

 

Pitch black.

 

Screams and whistles and moans.

Subzero scowls and hot coffee night owls.

 

Protest- then drift away

To the cheeks of farmers, cursing the winds of this January day.

 

 

 

King Can

Kickin’ back with a King Can

of Black Ice.

Everything’s gon’ be alright.

Half a pack of Player’s Red
and the liquor store is open ’til ten.

You call me a feral man,
a leech to society.
But you don’t gotta put nothin’ in my outstretched hand,
so I prefer the word, “free”.

Who the Hell is “Daryl Lect”?
Who the Hell did we elect?
That would let us freeze without Tundra Ice?

Who the Hell asked for your advice?

“Get a job”?
Thanks. I haven’t thought of that!
I can instantly snap out of this,
all it takes to go from slob to snob,
in no time flat!

Winter Is Coming,
and I’m on the 5th season in Game of Loans.
I miss my daughter.
The girl needs her father.
But I’m just kickin’ back
with my King Can of Black
The King without a Queen or a Castle,
dying on his concrete throne.

You call me a bum,
a scourge, a disease.
You don’t put nothin’ in my outstretched hand.
You snarl, you bite, you fit me into God’s plan.

But I smile,
and say, “God Bless”.
You’ve walked an inch as I’ve walked a mile,
but you still win the race, delusional in determination, but I digress.

I may be a chaotic, wild mess.
I may not know the real me.
I still am a brother, a father- just forgotten and seen as less.
I am cold and I cry, but even eye contact is denied.
Let alone a helping hand, I close my outstretched hand.
But have not lost my way, I am not blind I still see
The turned backs of my fellow man deserve dignity.

 

Invisible Enemies

Feminists smash the patriarchy
with the tools of fascism and anarchy.
They destroy their oppressors,
with slogans and letters.
Echo chambers far to the left of sensibility
regurgitate the thoughts that they are told is right,
and what is left of critical thought, of responsibility?
We will worry about that once the patriarchy is on its knees.
Everybody has invisible enemies.

Incels cry and they wail,
that this cruel world has cursed this selection of males.
Women only want the rich, the strong, the handsome, the tall, and the Chads.
Women only want what I do not have.
Instead of spending time with the fairer sex,
they hide in putrid basements, they utter putrid heinous threats.
They sleep on stained mattresses, only to wake to wallowing in self-pity.
Echo chambers feed the entitled, lost without an identity.
Everybody has invisible enemies.

The gays are destroying our morals and families,
the church prescribes with a twisted glee.
They are pushing an agenda, they are here to convert your children
No one is safe, they will not rest until the world is a cauldron of sin.
If they must live that way, do not push it down our throats,
Do not rant and rave, do not shout or gloat.
Your children are safe with us, never-mind that we relocated your priest suddenly.
We are educated enough to know that you can make that choice in secrecy.
Everybody has invisible enemies.

The corporate investor growls and hoards his cache.
He damns the threat of his inconvenient past.
His employees are greedy,
His government is needy.
He had to work hard to get where he is,
His father spent a lot of money to persuade the Yale selection list.
Echo chambers far to the right of sensibility, bicker and tear at the seams,
you can’t deride the boy- he was a good student and a part of the football team!
So what if he made some girls do things they didn’t want to at a few parties?
This is a witch-hunt, the ramblings of a jealous mob seeking to destroy the American Dream.
Everybody has invisible enemies.

It is far easier to point a finger
than to look yourself in the eyes in the mirror.
You may have flaws, but theirs are far worse.
And they are lethal, they must be dispersed.
Onwards we fight,
to slay the creatures of the night.
We believe they are out there, lurking to destroy us.
We need to believe, or else we’d have to look inside, where they dwell and they fuss.
It is our duty to end these atrocities.
To end our invisible enemies.