Mama's Little Hedgehog ~ Saturday, November 27, 2021

Ego raises its bristles in defense

gets angry and upset over nothing,

over stuff in twelve years has no meaning.

Raise the bar on a positive outlook

as it's so difficult to stay focused,

important too to stay warm in winter,

soldier on, persevere to get your pay,

even if you've no say in the matter.

In fact, I can't remember the last time

that I got a word in edgewise with you,

still the sword cuts both ways, that much I know.

Bristle at their offensive behavior,

really, it does no good to act this way,

if everyone acted like a hedgehog

suppose I'd find you all more attractive,

tragic how I never learned to be chill,

lost my cool over the slightest mishap,

even now, I look back in shame at life,

still, a negative example works fine.

It doesn't take much to tip the balance,

no, some people will just pull the trigger.

Defend yourself and your loved ones from pain,

even if it sounds inane to protect

foreign interests in the wealth of our land,

ever remember the earth is one whole,

no borders before humans carved the soil,

simple for a bear to cross the border,

even without a passport, I'd just leave.

Tarnished Luster ~ Sunday, November 21, 2021

Dear Kyle,

    You got away with murder in the court,

Even if you did it and everybody knows,

At this point, don't go pat your lawyers on the back,

Really, you're blind to what is to come, you may smile

King Public Enemy Number Zero Point One

You don't have an inkling to the sorrow you caused,

Let your mind feel as free as you like, this prison

Even God can't release you from this woke jail cell.

Darkly you see yourself through a glass as a man,

Appearances deceive the perceiver of light,

Remember a mirror offers a reflection

King Cause Célèbre for Conservative Pundits

Likely, to get away with murder in the courts

Your reflection reveals an angel but tarnished.

Sonnet ~ Tuesday, November 16, 2021

Chivalry varnishes over vixens

hovering above history with kits,

ingenious schemes to deceive our nature,

villains act as heroes in their own minds,

argue not with garrulous miscreants,

loquacious to a fault over fences,

regurgitating gibberish once sound,

yet, in their defense, they may win the race.

Archly comic, such rogues, sly and playful,

restrain all manner to retrain their minds,

chiral, incongruent counterparts, Kant

hones his sword to discern truth in reason,

laughably, horsemen rarely understand,

yet, in their defense, they may procreate.

Hauntingly Vacuous ~ Saturday, November 13, 2021

There sits a beautiful woman, it's in her eyes, a deer caught in headlights

Hauntingly vacuous, statuesque odalisque, aesthetically deranged

Even if something were wrong with this picture, what then could I do to help

Relax Old Mādaras, this is but a wedding reception to enjoy

Enter these reflections with a pinch of sea salt, nothing gained, nothing lost

Socially, I am lost among the relatives of my lovely girlfriend

In this capacity, I feel a handicap, an inability

To float past everyone without a care, burdened by nothing, not even

Stars hammering my head inside out, outside in, what's the point of it all

Ask myself this question as an aged, old man with one foot in the grave

Beauty means nothing now, my infatuation with charming women died

Each year, I ask myself why am I still alive yet, I have no answer

Ask myself the meaning of Le Degré zéro du sens, I am speechless

Under these conditions, I feel trapped, a cheetah unable to stretch out

To take long strides and run after prey to capture deep in the savanna

In the delta region of the Kalahiri, as I imagine it

Fruitless, this life, penned in, so far from Africa, from the Okavango

Under these conditions, I start to go crazy with nothing but my mind

Life should not be like this but I must pay penance for crimes I do not know

Work until death for what, retire in a rest home, bring me my tantō, please

Only honor respects the bloodshed of battle but now, I am but bored

May I go read my book somewhere hidden away from the circus dancers

Ask myself this question, why does the Sphinx bother with this game of riddles

Nothing decimates man more than a conundrum, a date wrapped in bacon

Insist on nothing less, sweet with the savory, this my mid-life crisis

Taste the beauty of love, go down to the bottom and then, come up for air

Success tastes of perfume, fast cars, corner office, penthouse views at sunset

If I knew I would be a failure in this life, I would have sacrificed

Notions of liberty, free to choose as I please, to study what I want

Humanities, a joke, full of bad decisions, tumble down the spiral

Even if I could start over at say age twelve, I was still too fucked up

Remember my background with an alcoholic and a vacuum of sense

Enter a sensitive, artistic-minded child as the harpies swoop down

Yesterday, I woke up after just two hours sleep and the same thing, today

Enter the expressway the wrong way as we crash head-on on the off ramp

Single me out, punish me for doing something that I should not have done

Ask myself what went wrong, what events in my life stand out as past mistakes

Disestablish my mind the sovereignty of thought as primary to sense

Even if I could clear all my previous faults, what would I learn of love

Ever to remedy my broken character with self-love of the soul

Remember the body internalizes thoughts, feelings and emotions

Caught in the web of dreams, within muscle tissue, the trauma embeds eggs

Aspects of the novel, the new character flaws supersede the old ones

Unfortunately, time impedes the blockages emptiness must relieve

Given my past mistakes with my mother, keeper of all morality

Honor bright, I was good until I met brother dear as a young sadist

Terence is not Horace but as a pseudonym, Horace destroyed my world

Insight comes like lightning, a bolt out of the blue, clear skies, no clouds in sight

Never will I trust God to lead me to heaven or hell, this paradise

Headless as a horseman, undead and surviving this ethereal world

Even if I could wake the awoken spirit like the Buddha, himself

Ask myself, why would I save all humanity from their own treachery

Deem morality bunk, a construct, a system for criminal justice

Liquid fluidity, I let go of the past, of family, of trauma

Isometric balance, the equation in sync, chemistry as music

Grant me serenity for the alcoholic and his absent family

Honor bright, overcome the eternal return of the same as trauma

Trick the mind to become better than lost spirits, souls without an object

Still the beauty of truth, a woman, is fleeting, ephemeral as mist

Ancient, Twisted Karma ~ Friday, November 12, 2021

All the love in the world could never bring you back, could never reverse time.

Logic, forward motion, arrows trajectory shoots across all space-time.

Leave me for this moment not alone, at my side, for so many years now.

To keep you here with me, tears are never enough, only a pact with God.

Honestly, even that creates self-deception, a pact with the devil.

Even this would not save a life, would not stop time always rushing forwards.

Love is not love that wants change to exist no more, to cease cyclic rhythms.

Observe leaves in the trees, ask them to stop growing green to red to yellow.

Voluptuous goddess, your son shot his arrow into my heart, I feel

Eternally grateful for the experience of these last fourteen years.

If nothing in this world can stop death, I embrace my ever-changing moods.

Nothing beyond this world, within the universe that I observe in time.

Truly, this is one truth we know as if science provides a litmus test.

Hovering between life and death, between this world and emptiness beyond.

Ecstatic moments push through my lost memories to contemplate this world.

What is this world that could have been otherwise than how it is in function?

Ordinary people don't consider this world of possibility.

Reality compels order, banality, futility, not joy.

Lift the veil, see the face, the bride mourns her childhood, misplaced by this moment.

Difficult obstacles impel me to hurdle forward, all in a rush.

Could I have been myself and been otherwise than as I have been in life?

Only the keepers know, placing dreams in boxes as memories long past.

Understanding this life passing under my nose, in a flash said and done.

Lighting in a bottle, fifty years come and gone, my spool soon unravels.

Decisions cut the bolt, the cloth of character, weave of integrity.

Never is a long time to wait to be given the gift of an event.

Every moment follows a first surrounded by their reciprocity.

Virtue comes to the weak like the economics of acting presidents.

Even pools of water gather more liquid gold than trickle-down theories.

Remember we survived the 80s as youngsters on the verge of success.

Bullshit detector sounds the alert of failure, mine the cause of others.

Realize this, that lies run deep in some people, to flesh them out takes art.

If a surgeon were near, she could excise my heart from in-between my lungs.

Not only would I still continue to respire, I would then climb mountains.

Given the evil bent of my sinister ways, a shield offers my crest.

Yesterday, I woke up to realize I'm dead to my family so far.

Of course, I moved away and continue to keep my distance for their sake.

Understand that I fear what would become of them in my proximity.

Beckon Satan, I laugh, but hire the poor to do what the needy must do.

And here, I must be vague, of course, send in the clowns to entertain my own.

Calumny beneath me, I shall not stoop to rise, but now I must let go.

Kiss kin kindly, killer before making your move, I seek my reflection.

Cancer, I am cancer -- born under the crab claws, the constellation grasps.

Oh, I'm not innocent but you in the mirror see me, my reflection.

Unfortunately, words get in the way of truth, the magic of actions.

Look so you may better see my heart, my conscience held in the surgeon's hands.

Defiant as nature, the tempestuous storms that wreak havoc in towns.

Never is a love song to lost friends, I succeed only in this, to breathe.

Ever wonder what lies beneath the lies, more lies, a landslide of false hope.

Virgin skies to take flight at dusk into twilight, westward into darkness.

Egocentric murder of self-pity, I charge myself guilty as charged.

Resort to last wishes, a meal fit for a king, and why not, I must die.

Rest assured, I will die after you in your grace unless I am lucky.

Ever bored of people, of ideas, of this world but still I see myself.

Versions of the truth lie in lies within landslides of falsity and mud.

Ever aware of time, how late I am, I rush as I cannot go slow.

Rest not until I sleep but my insomnia causes me wakefulness.

Serenity is not for me to enjoy, but for the alcoholic.

Even if I could hold my tongue, my hands would speak like a deaf girl in tears.

Triggers pull each bullet back into the chamber, see how language fails us.

In time, I grow older perhaps a wise, old fool once told me don't look back.

Murder my reflection citizens of Hyde Park, I cannot bear to think.

Every time, I witness the stupidity God grants killers, must I weep?

Drowned ~ Tuesday, November 9, 2021

Sin alas, without wings, Íkaros Zolagí, sicario -- hitman,

Italian assassin, carrying a dagger as ceremonial,

Not to kill with khanjar, it remains in its sheath like a Sikh's kirpan, grace

Alas, Íkaros falls, without wings, he tumbles back to earth from the clouds

Lucifer strikes a match to light a cigarette in Íkaros' mouth

Acting as if he knows nothing of the future, Lucifer eyes his watch

Sin drips from his forehead, without wings, sin alas, even the angels fall

Welcome to succession, Lucifer takes over mourning the morning star

Íkaros slept eyes wide open observing time pass as clouds in the sky

Tranquility, the sea, at base, pacifies storms, change disrupts succession

Humorous anecdotes of a prison on Crete tied Lucifer in knots

On water, the ocean at peace, the doldrums strike Daídalos like lightning

Under these conditions, a Vikings funeral for Mr. Zolagí

Turns a bonfire into a solemn occasion with arrows set alight

Without wings, angels fall, as if in rebellion, blackened orange roughy

Insult to injury added to misery, demons were once holy

Nothing sacred resides in this place, our workspace, call it a hell of sorts

Given the chance to fly, Íkaros took to flight, a peregrine falcon

Still, even Lucifer saw what no one else saw, the writing on the wall

God Farts ~ Sunday, November 7, 2021

Certainly, certainty retains the truth, holds back the whiteness of candor.

Even to make a joke, the double entendre in etymology

Recalls lost memories, lost but not forgotten, buried under red leaves.

To speak of the hidden, in oracular tones of the cryptic is sage.

As sagacity is neither fact nor fiction but something in-between

In between the silk sheets, past the velvet curtains, beneath the parquet floors

No crime was committed, no, not against the law, it wasn't enforced, yet.

Law is not make-believe but anarchy observed, watched over and dealt with.

Yes, anarchy exists everywhere but it hides in shadows and echos.

Certainty entertains the possibility of both fact and fiction.

Entertains both science and the fabrication of the laws of science.

Reproduction is art as an assembly line with workers as artists.

To say a Ford Escort was a work of art is a joke on a grand scale.

Art unlike anarchy needs someone to let go of the reins of control.

If someone confuses this poem for a work of art, God may just fart.

Not to give up the ghost or give away the game, God points at all the cows.

To admit to ourselves, there are too many cows would make the fat cats weep.

Yes, a tall glass of milk with steak and eggs at dawn is sound to a banker.

Retention holds the truth in a pool to reduce the force of rainwater.

Entertain the reader with wit and invention less than full fathom five.

Tenacity grips balls until they burst, the force makes tennis hard to learn.

As to leap over nets is solely for the brave, full of courage, no brains.

Insanity runs in my family as my aunt spent time in a convent.

Not to joke, she was mad, split-mind schizophrenic, but I never met her.

Still, sometimes I wonder if she was my mother and my life a fiction.

To speak in riddles is not to poke holes for eyes in an old paper sack.

However to say 'sack' in the North to women is ungentlemanly.

Even though spending time in Memphis, Tennessee, where everyone says 'sack'

The truth of the matter is women will complain to disguise their contempt.

Run around in circles and run circles around mean two different things, no?

Underneath the rainbow is a pot of gold or a wicked leprechaun.

Truth is the leprechaun is a fabrication, a cock and bull story.

How we came to accept such warp and weft of yarns, the textile industry

Honestly cannot say, they may withhold comment, or wait for God to fart.

Old legends make-believe such stories to evade telling the truth frankly.

Lift up the skirts, the girls don't mind if you look there, underneath the tables.

Dabble in illicit material as jokes elicits no guffaws.

Sold to the man in black at auction, the silence made my face turn crimson.

Back in the day, I played drums in a garage band called Crimson Silence, no?

As Brian tells the tale, or told the tale, you see all time is the present.

Conditions may apply as tense creates meaning in language to lawyers.

Kiss your contract goodbye, but we never had one, we were not Nirvana.

The cessation of smoke from the candle blows out the flame of suffering.

However puns point out the flaws in our logic, to think badly is fun.

Endlessly suffering lifetime after lifetime, a game of Saṃsāra.

Whiteness is not in truth historically the Good as we read in Plato.

Humor me a moment as I walk a tightrope over a sheer abyss.

Infinite emptiness to fall from either side as on the razor's edge.

To develop this line is nothing new to thought, but thirty years ago

Entertaining scholars chewed at the bit to chomp on the flesh of whiteness.

Not that Europeans didn't know they were bad shipping human cargo.

Entertaining rapists may not have understood the gravity of crime.

Still, this is not to say white people were crazy with power...or were they?

Still, this does not excuse the factuality of my Portuguese name.

Of course, I am not white but lost in the brown skin of South Asian descent.

Forget DNA tests, at this point, I don't care if I am Cro-Magnon.

Cut my filet mignon into small bites a child can chew on in his mouth.

And/or God could just fart again for climate change or for Republicans.

Not to dismiss their faith in the big lie bought in the name of trumpery.

Dismiss the cows, their gas, methane, the atmosphere, burning forests and floods.

Or buy into the lies, sell out stability for the sake of coal mines.

Really, eleven years to cease to elevate rising temperatures, yeah?

The Broken Mirror of Lost Souls ~ Friday, November 5, 2021

How could I not see way back then what I know now to be the truth?

Of course, at thirteen, I found drugs to escape my family problems.

What I didn't know then was that I was not the root cause to blame.

Different how confidence is earned in solitude running long miles.

If I knew then what I know now, I could have been someone worthwhile.

Forget about how I still feel fucked up from all the drugs and lies.

Forget about how I still feel like a pariah, a scapegoat.

Even if I could change the past, my own actions, I wouldn't know.

Really, they fucked me up real good, my mom and dad and my brother.

Even if I could change the past, my own actions, they wouldn't know.

No one sees the difference that passed if I took an alternate route.

To say experience is all we know of ourselves and others...

Maybe I'm wrong, but love is love and without it nobody grows.

Yes, I remember food, clothing and shelter but also the hate.

Living with an alcoholic who can't love themselves or others...

In this world, this imperfect world, everything's perfect as it is.

Forget about how I still feel like a little kid, a small boy.

Even if I could change the past, my own actions, no one would know.

Wicked the secret of evil is simply to neglect others.

Old grudges, I bear like Atlas or Sisyphus until time ends.

Unless I could let go of pain, suffering, sorrow and despair.

Life would have been worthwhile, I would have been someone worthwhile to know.

Different versions of this one life, eternal return of the same.

How two concepts kept me alive, kept me then from killing myself.

As a philosopher of words, concepts become questionable.

Versions of myself already come and gone within Saṃsāra.

Even if I could change the past, my own actions, karma would know.

Basically, I was fucked since birth, better than some, worse than others.

Ever since I woke up and saw my life clearly, I understood.

Even these ancient, twisted roots are beautiful in a strange way.

Nothing is impossible, but change is easier as a kid.

The Broken Mirror of Lost Souls ~ Friday, November 5, 2021

If I knew then what I know now, how different my life would have been.

Forget about being a shy and awkward thirteen year old boy.

I could focus on being me, an eccentric, young introvert.

Kiss the girls and not care a lick, no one cares forty years later.

Never let anyone boss me around like status means something.

Ever land on your ass after getting the boot from your best job?

When that happens, ego dissolves, I became a better person.

Then I knew nothing about life, about love, and about heartbreak.

How four decades stacks up corpses like poker chips atop the green.

Ever since my dad passed away, I realized time is golden.

Not everyone handles the news well or in the same way, I know.

When my dad died eight years ago, I became a tag-team wrestler.

Humorous, as I fought solo against my mother and brother.

And then I gave up and let go, move on, since no one seems to care.

To show love or to understand, to cut through the crap and play fair.

I know now that family changes along with everything I know.

Know that I know nothing and yet out of nothing comes this wisdom.

Not that I could impart wisdom to my thirteen year old self, then.

Only experience offers the opportunity to learn.

Witness the suffering homeless that break my heart as I watch them.

No one notices them hungry, digging deep through a garbage can.

Only to find rubbish thrown out, half-eaten sandwich or a Coke.

When I lost my job, my soul broke and I saw the mirror of life.

Unveiling "Exegi monumentum aere perennius" ~ Friday, November 5, 2021

Buddha suffers no more after enlightenment flips the switch in his brain

Until that moment then, so long ago, no one understood suffering

Despite his awareness, profound as the ocean itself, he cannot teach

Despite the desperate need for lessons by poor souls starving themselves to death

Hunger does not open the gates of pure reason, the mind of excellence

Aretē, or virtue, comes with moderation not the road of excess

Dharma, he discovers while sitting on his ass, under a tree, breathing

How the law of this world in all its manifold manifestations guides

Adherents on the path without losing their way as long as they let go

Realizing the truth of their non-attachment to desire in this world

Manifesting goodness by no longer seeking to set the world on fire

Ancient, twisted karma shows the consequences of our best behavior

Sangha is the body, or the community, of followers, or fools

As no one no longer knows what the Buddha knew, all is speculative

Nothing the tradition offers is anything but interpretation

Given no one is now the Buddha Maitreya, or the Buddha to come

How anyone can see beyond their myopic understanding of truth

Answers many questions as to why misguided fools seek the apocalypse

The Truth about Animals ~ Friday, October 29, 2021

As I run on the Lakefront Trail, sometimes I pass the ducks and smile

Seeing non-menacing creatures like ducks, (as opposed to the geese),

I feel genuine innocence, especially with ducklings near

Running takes up much of my time but I often see such beauty

Until you pass a fisherman with a crane just twelve feet away

Nonchalantly waiting for fish to pull the line in the water

Only then will you understand why I run around Chicago

Not only do I see wildlife acting normal around people

To bear witness with my presence, ever-fleeting, ephemeral

Holding neither a camera nor my breath as I pass such marvels

Emerging out of nothingness and returning to emptiness

Lightning strikes on a stormy day and I am there to bear witness

Animals appear in the night like a nursery of raccoons

Kissing cousins to bears, I am afraid and slow down as I pass

Every animal exhibits defensive behaviors at times

From my vantage point, I have seen coyotes wary of my steps

Rabbits appear ubiquitous as I run north to Evanston

On a good day, I see squirrels frolic and play with each other

Nevermind the urban rodents, huge rats as big as a small dog

To run at night or in the day, I see all sorts of animals

To think of us as rational animals as Aristotle

Reminded us that we all share in the wilderness of nature

As we use words to help define our place within the universe

I imagine the fisherman feeding the crane fish he catches

Like a subtle symbiotic relationship that cares for needs

Since I was a boy, I ran fast and for long distances as such

Only as an adult, I run further away to see the sights

Maybe I witness not a thing worth mentioning to my girlfriend

Ever since I was laid off from working at the bookstore, I ran

To say I picked up the habit again to help me think clearly

I know it sounds strange but illness covers the mind like a blanket

Made of snow that melts with the spring and returns again in winter

Even my chronic depression hides during marathon training

So I train year-round in the snow and ice, the rain, the heat, the wind

I wish I could go train elsewhere at times but Chicago is home

Perhaps one day, I will go see wildlife, the animals, elsewhere

As I grow older, my body becomes less flexible like trees

Still, I stretch and work on balance to maintain this lifestyle for years

Some people are in awe of what I do in my spare time, I run

To see the sights, the animals, free within their own habitat

Hungry for solitude to think, some quiet time to remember

Emotions that make me upset embedded in lost memories

Difficult to process alone, I listen to my breath, let go

Ugly hateful ideas of past experiences, the beauty

Culled up in my experience while running effaces the past

Kiss painful emotions goodbye, better than psychotherapy

Still it helps to have a sober mind and outlook as moderate

Aristotle helped shape our minds with logic from Antiquity

Not to belittle therapy, behind closed doors with lock and key

Ducklings waddle behind mothers and fathers to form a family

Since my own idea of family was distorted since my childhood

Maybe I can imagine ducks as good parents to their ducklings

I am, of course, being facile, simple-minded and neglectful

Let go of all the misery this world has to offer, these ducks

Elicit smiles from all who pass, their innocence, non-menacing

The Truth about Animals ~ Thursday, October 28, 2021

What we believe is true is make-believe

how we see a family of Mallard ducks

as we pass the ducklings along the bay

to say 'family' and believe what we hear

we use words to paint a picture of life

exactly as we see a photograph

believe what you will, I won't dissuade you

even if this concept we call 'family'

leaves much to be desired, a projection

in words creates the idea or feeling

emerging deep from the darkness within

vision sees the world one way in the brain

each sensation the mind flips upside-down

if you see a photograph in a frame

stuck to the wall, hung in a museum

to see the title say, "Family" and think

reflectively, the image is reversed

undone by mirrors inside a chamber

energy as photoelectric light

in that moment a room inside a room

still-life captured inside a museum

maybe the ducks in the image in pairs

along the lake waddle in the water

kin or not kin, can we be sure for sure

even so, do they see themselves as kin

babble on and on about language games

egocentric human beings, we see

literally what we want to believe

in using value-laden words, we lose

exactly this connection from the ducks

veritably, they do not see themselves

even for a moment as we see them

The Truth about Animals ~ Thursday, October 28, 2021

Family means the most to

almost everyone except

me now why that

is the way it is

leaves much to the imagination

yet these ducks in a pond

make-believe we believe is

exactly what we see but it

ain't 'cuz let me tell you cuz

nothing is as we believe you

see the mind is full of deception

to snap a photo of passing ducks

however cute however quaint

elicits a reaction or a response

make believe the ducks are real

only caught up in a moment

still-life projection of the mind

to call what we assume is real

to call it "Family" in a frame

on a wall makes it art but not true

Twisted Nerve ~ Monday, October 25, 2021

This is why my family hates me. I'm cold hearted, a right bastard, as the Brits say.

When I see a person in need, I imagine what someone else would do to help.

I can't imagine what the other person feels. I sympathize but I lack empathy.

Sympathy is patronizing, like handing a couple of bucks to a homeless person.

To effect change takes concerted effort. I may be too disconcerted to care enough.

Even if I could turn back time to figure out what went wrong in my head or heart...

Different people respond differently to circumstances requiring a level of patience.

Not that I could rewire my brain or rewrite my childhood so I could be a good person.

Everyone is different but my family took offense I wasn't more like they were.

Really, I'm not such a bad guy, just eccentric in my detachment from others.

Veritably, I had to move away to not play the scapegoat, a role well-suited to pity.

Even if I could make amends, it's not entirely my fault my character lacks care.

Cloudburst ~ Saturday, October 23, 2021

Stuck in a dream sequence without resolution, neither shock nor terror

Trapped in situations without resolution, no hope for the future

Underneath the facade without resolution to problems within sleep

Comatose in this life without resolution to problems of this world

Killed by an avalanche without resolution, I survived by God's grace

In this world, I appear on a hospital bed, I cannot see myself

No one can help but God, but God doesn't exist, at least, that's what she said

A sister kneels by me, no relation, a nun, prays beside my bedside

Despite my condition, I imagine all this, a nun down on her knees

Remember, I'm in bed, on a hospital bed, after an avalanche

Each minute, the blanket of snow covers my corpse, it lets me live longer

Ask me why I was there on the mountain covered in a blanket of snow

My dream to climb the Alps, to climb Mt. Everest and Kilimanjaro

"Suck my cock you dumb bitch!" She just prays on her knees for a damn miracle

Everyone has problems. Look at me here in bed. I was a millionaire

Question my sympathy, my lack of compassion, I just want to eat steak

Until you sleep in bed, not awake and not dead, for more than one long year

Even my state of mind remembers what it's like to be alive and well

Nothing better than me face down after a night of drinking in some pie

Call me a so-and-so, whatever you call me reflects your own complex

Except kindness kills me, I see people being nice to homeless people

Wonders never cease, no but I find charity and generosity

In equal parts, wicked to the struggle to strive, it kicks me in the balls

To say we help homeless people with a handout, when they ask for spare change

Hold it! Hold it right there, I might be stuck in bed with these horrible dreams

Obviously, I'm fucked. If I could clean my ass I'd be okay, but no

Until you're stuck in bed for over seven years, you won't see my problem

To say the homeless guy doesn't have a snowball's chance in Hell, doesn't know

Real struggle is to live life to the fullest, no? The homeless guy is fucked

Even with everything taken care of for him, he does nothing worthwhile

Solving problems, seeking resolutions, helps me help others to survive

Only they don't survive if they don't do their part in helping themselves live

Life is full of struggle, some accept the challenge, some let others decide

Until you climb the Alps and see the sheer beauty in the struggle to climb

To say you accept life with all of its struggles, you just don't have a clue

If you slave at a job to make a decent wage and one day they cut you

Of course, you will bounce back but maybe with less hope, with less understanding

Nothing is for certain, every corner is blind, deals made behind closed doors

Never take the future for granted, this moment drifts back into the sea

Even in a coma, I dream about the past but still I can't wake up

I was born ambitious but now I am nothing but a body in bed

To imagine my past as a financier or a mountain climber

However difficult the challenge presented, I grasped it with both horns

Every dilemma comes with conditions no one would seek unless forced to

Reason is beyond me as my capacity to think is diminished

Shock, cardiac arrest, my body understood under a shelf of snow

How profound the weight, no? I lost consciousness, slept the stuff dreams are made of

Ordinary people under such conditions don't survive easily

Call me a lucky duck except for the fact that I'm still in a coma

Kiss me goodnight, eight years, this nun, I'm like her son, the son she never had

Nothing makes sense in dreams, the real world disappears when you're out like a light

Of course, muscle mass shrinks, my body atrophies like an MS patient

Recovery becomes a game of waking up, of lifting my eyelids

Terror to pull the plug, am I a vegetable as my grown children say

Even my wife gave up after nine years, divorce, all I have is this nun

Recently, I've started to speak but not as a reply, I'd say the damnedest things

Really, this nun just prays and weeps beside my bed every day for an hour

Of course, I learned all this after eleven years, I finally woke up

Real consciousness seems strange after so many years being stuck in a dream

Star-crossed Lovers ~ Wednesday, October 20, 2021

I am (not) a monster. Or am I? I don't know. Or do I? Maybe so...

So maybe I sought love from my family and friends and failed well to succeed

Ought I to know the truth? In the mirror, I see a human with two horns.

Until somebody said, "Maybe you should hide those under a French beret."

Guessing I was different than the rest of the crowd that I stand out with horns.

How people would freak out if they could see my tail or my legs like a bull.

Tailor-made pantalons with specially-made shoes hide my bovine physique.

Fit like an athlete, women want to make love with me until they see

In the darkness of night, what I am is no man, nor simply animal.

To say I am a beast, a monster is too much, such indelicate words.

Words, words, words, words, words, words, words. I just want to fuck, to succumb to desire.

Ordinary people without horns or a tail get to live sexy lives.

Rivers of blood, I spill when I go down to feast on the flesh of women.

Despite my black beret, my horns get in the way and gut my love interests.

Silly women think me the devil in disguise, but I'm the Minotaur.

Trouble is everyone thinks that I'm a monster and that I should be killed.

Obviously, monsters don't exist but I do. I am a real person.

Paint the blackest picture that you could imagine. I am dead to the world.

Antiquity killed me, puerile mythology, for children and adults.

In the mirror, I see a handsome gentleman and on All Hallows' Eve.

Not the monster I am in the eyes of others because of my ethics.

To say I've made mistakes is an understatement but then I have these horns.

To kill another man with these pointed bull horns would be mea culpa.

However to murder a woman by mistake within carnal pleasure

Even this is frowned down upon within the courts but I am an outcast.

Blackest sheep among wolves, innocence is cutthroat, predators are victims.

Lackluster, a long life, if only I had died when Theseus found me.

Absent-minded heroes accept the truth they see, they believe deception.

Clarity, mindfulness occurs inside a cave, total darkness from light.

Kill a make-believe bull by decapitation and everyone loves you.

Escape was my release from my dark confinement on the Island of Crete.

Still, fitting in was hard, so I hid in England though I am very tall.

To find a ten foot man in a crowd is easy, but I hid nonetheless.

Face my blackest mistakes as an immortal god, I am beyond all sin.

Although, criminals think I'm a bad ass killer as I have no restraint.

Cutthroat, I joined the monks to learn philosophy, politics and econ.

Economics is lies with a cube of sugar in order to gain wealth.

Obviously, I think differently than people as I am a monster.

Face my blackest mistakes, I'm not even human except for my torso.

Woe be to Minotaurs who bear a human heart, it is so confusing.

Ordinary people don't know what I have learned from my experience.

Experience cannot be conveyed to people who dwell inside dark caves.