poem poetry – Page 9 – poems 2 die for

SOMEONE ELSE

SOMEONE ELSE
“My only regret in life is that
I was not born someone else”.
Woody Allen

you looked through that
special drawer

for mementos, treasures,
precious relics of time past

you you found were
poems, love poems
written
for someone else

told
their own story

self-
explanatory

no comment necessary
or required

it is always; there
is always
someone else

it iz in the nature of desire
who we are
you don”t need
a doctoral thesus on
Jacwues Lacan

to figure it out
but it just might help

things
might help

and everybody ultimately
knows that ws all
want, wish
we were someome else

want to pour our hearts out
to somone who might love
us, want us
or at least listen

but they have no time
for you
and your pain and
all ypur somebody else troubles

becausw
in the hearts they know
what you are
is
less, is negative
is not what

they thought

too young you were
to figure out the disappointment
on all those faces

first breath
you took

meant for somebody else

SO LET ME

SO LET ME

so let me
try to understand this

you write stuff
different form and
better than
anything better than
what I could write
more valuable to
the human race

than anything that I
could
or might write

more truthful
to our
human
condition

than, you are sure,
as a principle of faith,
anything my ilk
could
ever have written

when, truth is,
this stuff is incidental,
peripheral to who
we are

of absolutely no consequence
except where
in its excess, in
its call to arms, plea
for
essential truth and
species transfoemation

a huge threat and danger
an evil setting itself
against my and
all other’s
way
of life

for which we must not
neglect our dury
to destroy
you and your kind completely

no place in this world
for so insane a practice
and.
pernicious conspiracy

HAPPY FAMILIES

HAPPY FAMILIES

we were playing
happy families

in the darkness
buried, bleeding
starving

to show that we are
humsn
do what humans do

get bombed to bits
buried alive
by other humans
who contest our right
to be like them
to think
and bleed and love
and feel

trying to do
what humans do

buried alive in
a flattened town
thankful at least that
unlike
so many we

may yet survive
if and when
they dig us
out

playing the cards that
we have been dealt

to win
the gsme you need a set

death and judgement and
the devil and
the falling down
.
cough the thick debris
dust out your lungs

and shout out what we all
do not, should not ever doubt

we are
all one family

HEIRLOOM

HEIRLOOM

there will come a time
when you step
out of your front door

only to
find

the clock in the house
old family clock,
heirloom
that both of them
for all their
differences obvious
and concealed, real
and imagined
will both swear and
schedule their lives by

only
to find

heirloom, heirdoom,
doomloom

time inside and outside
could not
be more relative

and there it is
         out of nowhere
a growing pains singulaity
                          suddenly
extreme gravity
cosmic, yes, but
              when you speak
them in the boat
whirling around the vortes
just
   outside
the event horizon

you will learn the apt term,
which may, in this case,
well be
psychosexual

and there they are dictating,
prescribing
these great theraputic
gentlemen

who never in the world did
you expect
to see
in real life

persuading you, pleading with
you
imploring you

to find your negation of
this house of fiction, parental
palace
of delusion

and until such time
use the back door to
leave

quietly
and at peace