Eany Meany – Men of Means

Every day, it seems
The news, and many memes
Feature stories of what men are
Doing wrong.
Famous men of means,
The few, act as if they’re queens
Or kings as the case
May be.
Their penis is their sword
And, without a word
They penetrate the
Woman of their dreams
It seems.
Never a woman of means.
Another one bites the dust!
Each day we simply must
Put away these awful men of meanness!
These mean men of means.
It seems they’ve lost their minds
Left empathy behind
Love, they’ll never find.
Mean men of means.

Insanity Took Me – The Story of My Childhood

Section 1 – Zero to Three

Those were the days

When my mother was alive

I thrived

Like never again.

There was love

And hugs

Peeled grapes

With paté sandwiches.

Section 2 – Three to Six

Insanity took me

Not within me, but without.

A crazy man who,

Paid to make me cry

Never wondered why

He was so sad.

Section 3 – Seven to Eleven

I remembered Mama’s name

At the end of school one day

And so, we had to move

All my fault, he said to me

Slapped into eternity,

This devil at my side,

Bruised my legs

Then to jail he did ride.

Section 4 – Twelve to Fourteen

All for acting was my life

Despite the fear, the pain

The strife

Of wealth pretend, did they.

Much to my dismay

The rode upon my back

Empathy their greatest lack.

Section 5 –High School

Both my loves they hated so

Acting, and a man from

Over there

In the pear.

But what did I care.

They were crazy!

Walking in Los Angeles

They pop up from the cracks sometimes

The flowers.

Tiny buds, stepped upon by all whose time

Is more important.

They bloom where edges,

People pass

Not noticing the wedges

Of their beauty.

Blooming gardens push their bounds

Where some find mounds

Of dirt appealing.

And those,

I picture for repose


Cat Woman

Hello cat

My but you are a large one

Stalking my steps.

Your spirit dwells within me

I see.

Now I know that I am you,

And you are me.

We are one with eternity,

Cat. Large cat.

Imagine that!

Stages of my life

(Includes an excerpt from The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot – in italics)

I was once a young child

Desperate to find things good and mild

And never did I question their bad taste.

Years ago I was a teen

Desperate to be our high school’s prom queen

And always did I wonder was I liked.

Later on I was a mom

Desperate to be with children at my home

Whom I love with all my heart.

I grow old… I grow old…

I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled

Power is all mine as these days part.

Grasping Those Two Fish, Carl!

Two Fish, Carl Sandberg

Their speech could not possibly have been scarlet

Unless they were dead,

Then, maybe, in the throes of being

Pulled in by a hook through the lip

MAYBE their speech could have been scarlet.

Or did you mean “scar-lipped”?

Late night typo, perhaps?

Oh, I get it… he kissed her, and she’s a biter.

But they kept on talking, bloody water and all.

Wait, though… they met in a bowl of molten gold air?

How did they breathe enough to speak,

Much less kiss? Must have been painful

On those gills – aquatic asthma!

Molten gold does not typically float around

In fishbowls, by the way – at least not in this


That swinging from an arch thing?

Those seven rainbow sheens?

Was that one of those fish sex toys or something?

I’m confused. Swinger fish?

I’ve always thought of them as a rarity.

And, about the grotto, didn’t you say it was a bowl

Of molten gold air?

Or did he take her home?

Ok, I’ll buy the grotto bit.

The little boy fish hailed from the projects,

So to speak.

Ah, but the green feather dust…

Dead bird in the water?

Makes sense. Shaking their fins

As they each nibble a drumstick.

Ok, so, I guess we’ve got it straight now.

Two fish, met, had a one night stand

At his place,

Then grabbed a bite to eat

When a bird dropped dead.

Probably one shot by a hunter

With an old bird dog.

Ok. We’re good.

Oh, Dear…

Dear Unmentionable Organization

Whose unjust nature creates

Hell from a handbasket,

Look, this wasn’t my idea, you know…

The 1962 thing.

All I did was stick out my tongue

Trying to make the son of a bitch laugh.

I was a toddler, for God’s sake!

Just a loving little girl

Who thought everyone in the world

Loved her back.

I expected a hug,

And a smile.

And we got an attack.

Now, tell me that isn’t crazy.


I’m trying to figure it out.

You see, I’m all grown up now,

Nearly sixty years old,

Though that opportunistic freak

You called a leader said otherwise.

So, let’s face it, Bro…

Although, you say we’re all in this


You and I both know we’re not.

Out here, we’re adults.

We admit when we’re wrong,

And we know when we’re right.

We’re fair, and we seek justice.

You, on the other hand,

We’re not so sure that these

Mountains of molehills are all that

Forward thinking

Relative to the good of the world.

We disagree that

Embarrassment over not really being

The Greatest

Is all that big a deal in the grand

Scheme of things.

Everyone else knows we’re not,

After all; so, who is being fooled

By whom?

The answer to that is you,

And you.

Full circle.

The circle of crazy.

Waving flags at one another

To the point that all are blinded

By the cloth.

Quite a circus you’ve got going on there

In those “great” halls.

Now, if we could get some adults

In the show…

Silent Night

It’s her!

My splash of paint

From billions of years ago.

My vision of love, of light, of beauty.

She appeared and I sighed,

And the rest of you were borne of her.

Again and again, she comes to life,

Not in the usual way, but through me.

Divine Love waxes into being

Then wanes, like the moon,

And back again, full and plump.

Oh, my Love, my darling Love.

I alone can make you be.

Me of you, and you of me.

Together, we, in cosmic spin

Once more will be

Throwing paint at the canvas.

Universal Music

It’s dark.

And our turn to face the truth.

Do you see it as we wander

This celestial route?

They stay the same,

Or so we think,

But they move in unison,

Almost, along the warps

And wiggles of time.

Listen. Do you hear the light,

Like I do?

The Rest of the Story

There will be no Apocalypse.

No ending of the world.

Certainly no ending of me.

Oh, they of the balance of

Light and darkness,

Young Loves unaware of

The nature of me,

Gather shells like squirrels

Before winter.

And happiness still eludes them.


Like I said, I threw paint at a canvas

And saw you.

I’m still throwing paint.

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