FATHER'S RECORDS

Father takes out his ancient records
No store carries
Antiques of his heart
The jewels that nourish his soul
He tells me
Help me record these
We will be rich
We could sell these treasures
But no one appreciates good music
These days
Those classics he holds in his hands
Are dusty, some scratched
There is not a soul
Who would buy them
No one has my father's soul
Whose records are as much a part of him
As is his family
Inevitably, they will remain with us
We will inherit them
Attempt our best to love them
Almost as much as he does
We know they are treasures
But father always played them
Too loud when we tried to sleep
And we never learned to
Appreciate them as much as he does
We hated them, bouncing off
The windows, the walls,
The thump, thump, thump
We couldn't sleep or study
We couldn't hear the TV
If only you would have turned down
The sound, maybe we could have
Enjoyed them more

 

HEAD ON MY HEAD

I felt somewhat uneasy when I first set foot in this hospital.
The patients were all looking at me as if they knew who I was,
what I was thinking, or what I would do tomorrow. It is not
paranoia. I know what I feel inside. This feeling is as real as
the head on my head. I know every doctor wants a piece of
what I have inside this brain. For this reason I want to make
a patent. I will charge each psychiatrist a million dollars to
examine my brain. I'll take a grand for every pint of blood; a
one time flat fee of five thousand dollars for my urine or feces.

haggling with the nurses
the patient said she would take
her pills, if she could have
fifty cents to make
a telephone call

 

GIFT FOR PAIN

I will reduce
Life's splendor
To ashes.
I will hurl
A hundred
Thunderclaps
Into your heart.
I have this
Gift for pain.
I can't take it.
But I can
Give it out.
It is pleasing
For me to
Be evil.
I must be a
Descendant
Of some mad
King or leader.
I have a
Flair for pain.

 

CONTESTS

I am tiring of the games.
Give me something done
Out of love, not for profit
Or awards. Bullshit contests
Filled with uninspired verse

Need to be wiped out.
Give away your love written
From your heart. Share it
With the world, with everyone
Who cares to read it.

Otherwise, don't waste one
Bit of ink, one bark of tree
With uninspired verse,
But somehow "award worthy."
It boggles the mind.

 

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