21st Entry

No Revolution

He's broken,
and too soft.
He's too sick
of tying knots.

The old man walks by, cicadas
die beneath the green facade
He's the Tsar, and change
the shooting squad as he walks on drags on
struggles on. That which needs mending,
will be trampled on.

He's too nostalgic
of what's been lost.
He's too dense
to connect their dots.

Now silence is cluttered by his parting words.
His contribution is
not second nor third
(definitely not the first

time this has happened),
'cause his was first
(his words were first),
and is first
to be wiped away.

There's no revolution this time;
he merely looks back
and forward
and recognizes
nothing.

20th Entry

Glancing

They laughed away and
smiled the same, there's
no sign
no change
no tells of any difference -- just as I had left it.
There seems no
need to pro
tect it.

I listened and I
laughed
at jokes and
no one hears.
I am glad
but feel empty
that no one wished me there.

They said the Hi-s and Bye-s and
argued what had to be argued,
blamed what had to be blamed.
They unwrapped all their newest stories,
discussed all the latest headlines,

not a mention of my name.

19th Entry

All Nights

His voice, juicy sweet, in -
vades the tenacitic peace of each of the iambic feet,
they're gone, and there's no coda to our
vodka sodas as he simmers away into the darkness, I'm
Cinderella and tell him I must go,
No see-you-laters, and no,
no, I won't want to have gone
with him after my seventh glass, so sweetly iced,
won't regret each of my decisions, right -
they're right and I'm alone tonight,
and I’ll be alone,
all nights from now.

18th Entry

Lock Cart

Beach sandals and sunfrower seeds.
You liked salmon
smoked, and gradwrapped brie, with
tea ice cold -- the favorite holds,
even through the turning revolving
doors.

Don't cuddle don't dwadle, please
run away, my 'overly-lay.
A single drop of water
won't pierce her heart.

Shame it's a lock cart --
no hope. Please
own up -- please act your part.
Voice your hate or
end the same.
Disgust has no art.

17th Entry

Paperback Cruelties

You say you don't love my
philosophy, but me.
But what am I but the
everything that I believe?
I'll still dance my song -
there's nothing wrong
in fighting for those passions that make me, and
yes, those who fail get trampled on,
yes those who flip the tails will
stomach the shot
of whiskey and coke from the rails.
Good men don't choke
loudly, and it's cowardly to run.
This game is seven-card stud.

16th Entry

More

Will you learn nothing from
her, will you forget how it
hurt? I don't want you to leave, and
you don't want to hate me,
but you aren't there and
I don't dare
to ask you anymore.
Don't you love her more?

15th Entry

Would

Darling we're starlings
it's crystal that we're meant
to be seen as we had always
been, always
leaning on each other, always
suffering the way lovers suffer,

and maybe I still see your green eyes,
through your calm disguise, oh
my, what angry eyes you have, baby
what insults have I said now, baby,
what wretched part her is still left, tell me,

and yes, darling you're charming, but the
vultures won't cry
like I would. You'll
die alone and
dig your own
grave - she won't save you the
way chay could, the way chay
would if you would just love her
the way you should.

It's not over is it, between you?
Or maybe just not over in you,
and you know that, but who's that that would
and who's sad that she's too crude
but you?
And it's not over between us.