A friend to me
Processed the news
Blackened rage overcame
I can’t forget your name
We are living
It can change
It is plain
To see who is missing
Now it’s gone
May spirit live on
We miss the laugh
Of Matty Matt
Help me be strong
Let’s congregate en mass
And raise our half-empty glass
To the wicked of the night
Play a harmonic tune
Soothe this rancid saloon
Else the drunkards may fight
The ale is full of spice
She is pretty, but is she nice?
She asks me for a light
Work beckons in the morning
A hangover will render scorning
Over-consumption is killing my sight
We may be too much
A longing for two souls to touch
I knew she was full of spite
Shit and people.
Things don’t change.
Both are one and the same.
Which one to purchase?
Which one to break?
He was visited.
Asked yet AGAIN to slow down.
He wears a crown of frowns.
Drown your sorrows and despair.
Let’s toast the moonlit sky!
Take him there to die?
Who provides the smile?
Faith. Purpose. Hugs.
It’s an empty mug.
Fill it with what you wish.
Eventually it will be empty.
Show it for all to see.
He hates living with the living.
The record repeats in his head.
Why can’t we put it to bed?
An asshole returns.
To eradicate all sanity. He’s truly mad.
Reminding everyone to be sad.
He drinks it up.
And finds a use for it.
Organizing his world of shit
Into one box. It all fits.
He thinks it should burn.
The ashes wait their turn.
We back the boat down the ramp.
It’s a brisk 40-degree October morning.
The moon illuminates the morning sky.
Weather conditions are calm. It isn’t storming.
We sputter through the foggy river.
I’m reminded of the little things.
Mother Nature and her wonderful splendors.
Absent fancy cars and decadent rings.
It’s true. I’m awake for money.
Yet I relish in what I see.
The sun and the moon intertwined in purple skies.
As if this painting was created for me.
If we die today.
Remember these words I say.
Enjoy life’s brief stay.
Know that you may stray.
Pray to find peace where bones lay.
A layer of skin.
Peeled away through fishin’.
A stern Northeast wind.
A ball of fire greeting us.
Be quiet. Not a stir or fuss.
For a beautiful bounty is a must.
Our bills stack high.
The bait is sampled by flies.
I shift glance to morning skies.
I forget my troubles.
Observing wake and bubbles.
I think I like my fisherman’s stubble.
A contradiction of tranquility and grit.
A job made for swearing and spit.
An offering of my spirit.
I glance at my watch to check the time
It’s approaching midnight. Whatever. Fine.
This establishment reeks of intoxicated obnoxious strangers.
I sense a change in my surroundings and perceive an unknown danger.
There is but one I find.
Brown eyes, olive skin, light-brown hair
Red skirt, white top, 5 ft 9.
Danger indeed. Beware.
A revolution is needed.
To weed out the unjust, corrupt, and conceited.
Good people have been mislead and mistreated.
To work so hard and feel so depleted.
Time to cry out and shout.
NO. This is not what our lives should be about.
They fill our heads with doubt.
That the righteous could ever surmount.
Great challenges holding us back. Holding us down.
They need your obedience to uphold the oligarchic crown.
Understand the power of voice and sound.
It’s how you get shit done in any town.
Keep eating what they feed you.
You’re being fattened up until they bleed you.
Time for a collective voice.
Shouting for reason and exposing the illusion of choice.
Set aside your difference and hoist.
Up the human spirit. Embrace and rejoice.