A Mouth Full of Iron

Just because I am broke

Does not mean that I am broken

The heart broken

Knows the languish for success

This languish can only be known

Through heartbreak and distress

The world around me spins

Yet I have to catch my druthers

In a life that is given

One must learn to rely on others

But that bitter irony

Creates a burn in ones mouth

Leaning on hopes of easier roads

Leaves the heart less than whole

Rust collects on the resting

One must move so no dust can begin collecting

Subdued Indiana terrain

Toughened the skin with winter pain

A mouth full of iron

Cracked on all sides

Makes me wonder

Whats is the next curve in life

What awaits

What gives what takes

Yet

Just Just because I am broke

Does not mean that I am broken

Life Closer to the Ground

As I sat tying my shoes I was struck looking down at the cold ground – what would life be like if I lived very close to the ground. I realized very quickly that life would be much much different. It would obviously become very simple in some ways – like pure survival and relying on your senses. But very complicated in trying not to get hurt, dodging, staying clean. There is a lot to be learned from living so close to the ground. So I submersed myself in this to try and see what I could come up with for today’s poem. Enjoy!

Life Closer to the Ground

What would life be like

If I were only 1 foot high

People would loom large

Skyscrapers connecting with the sky

Would I know more about the earth

The way it is created and breathes

The dirt on the ground

The wet grass and fallen leaves

I would be so dirty and covered

I am sure of this in a city

If any other

I would know more of waste

And disconnect

That everyone feels standing 6 foot

Erect

I would feel the wind blow

Under cars and around poles

Would have to stay dry

Or else I could get too cold

I would discover more about humanity

Than what I may have ever been able to see

Shoes stomping on ground

Throwing garbage around

I would encounter forgotten things

Lost keys and crumbs

All brushed under the rug

Where only I could see

Conversations would occur in the heavens

I would have to stay more connected to the ground

So close now I would not have to look down

I would rely on the land and others

To take care of me and protect me

For I would only be one foot from the ground

Feet shuffling past

People brushing their hands over grass

Gum from years ago

Some from just a second ago

I think I could really learn something

Only one foot off the ground

It is the world

I would get to know

Political Constipation

This is a poem inspired by the absolute ridiculousness of political grid lock. I care not for a side and for no person – but for the overall lack of enthusiasm to work as a whole unit. In a way that the body can only truly function if it all works together. I am not sure where all of this shit is going to take us, but my optimism is waning. I wrote this as much for the humor as for the literal sense. I tried to capture the disgust for which I feel
for the current situation. Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t, but I enjoyed trying! Enjoy!

Upon us is The Great Sequestration!

Ode to the amazing political constipation!

This is no nation of procrastination and indignation!

But rather a great land

Of sensation and flirtation

With capitalism

And now possible stagnation!

The political bowel filled with dense matter

And the while the belly of the great nation

Grows fatter and fatter

But who really wants to ask

What is the matter?

Surely it can’t be

An infection of the bladder

It is the anus

Filled and discontent

No one wants to work

To lift the great clog

The almighty circumvent!

To move past political lines

Dine of much higher fair, politicians

The real moving kind

The sledge of procrastination

Must be cast into the toilet bowl

Worry not if it will over flow

It is time for change

Of the diet we consume

Must surely change

Grow and support

Greater endeavors

But it can not be just some broke ass poet

Who can be oh so clever

Ask yourself today

What are you willing to do for tomorrow

To cast away this fowl sorrow

To stitch the times that have grown to divide

And I will surely be

On your side