Whom Me

There’s another me I’ve yet to see.
And this other me won’t let this one be.
Both see with my eyes and screw with my head.
But only one’s good, the other better off dead.
Never certain whom will wake,
or the trouble they will make.
Their highs often go way, way too far,
their lows always leaving a scar.
I need to know from where this comes,
who eats cake and who gets crumbs?
This rollercoaster must soon stop,
but then a merry-go-round I will hop.
I’m forcing this poem for a change,
may not be good but surely strange.
And maybe someday we can all agree,
whom the f*** is the real me.



Make Poems Great Again

A fetish for takers and feckless of makers,
believers of fakers and the muckrakers,
a sea of red buttons seen from above,
swaying to orange for whom they love.
The air is heated with hate that’s spewed.
But that’s cool if already screwed.
Mirrors shine on what’s not there,
while reflection dulls what’s to fear.
A line in the ocean’s making waves,
digging ever deeper graves.
Float if be as bobbing naves,
but beware or soon be slaves.
No half or full with no cup,
once buried there is no up.
What lies below lies above,
only truth can raise all with love.


Eye Yai Yai

With simple words this message to a friend.
A message simply wished to never send.
A note of thanks for tender words shared.
And faith of more in time’s unprepared.
Good morning “Good Mornings” shall forever persist.
And those bad we’ll forever resist.
Though our presence here’s solely virtual,
your positivity resonates perpetual.
With strength and kindness felt far and wide,
you’ve the friendship of many by your side.
Our pasts reflect on all we do.
And future’s to sparkle when again I see you.



Tis a life of trials and tribulations,
with moments of wonder and frustrations.
A heart fluxed twixt flutters and fibrillations
The mind perplexed with expectations.
Paths all leading to unknown destinations,
time filled with instantaneous calibrations.
Strengths solidified learning limitations.
And love, perhaps tomorrow, no reservations.