Category Archives: sobriety

Self-Jeremiad Sonnet

I wish I could be a better person
& live up to more of my high standards
For then I’d be of myself, more sure then
(Poems aren’t the place to be candid!)

I imagine I could be happier
Living up to my grand aspirations
I might even dress myself snappier
(It might involve some preparations!)

The “perfect me” is a troublesome man
Ideals purely theoretical
Through a contrived obstacle course he’s ran
(To humanity antithetical!)

Fantasy me, like Frankenstein’s monster,
Of intentions built, will be abhorred

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Suicide Sonnet II

Despair’s inflated & elevated

No matter how rarefied the pathway

People are by reality anchored

Some souls see costly damage lives assay

“Look!” I whisper, “see the unhappiness

Flirting across her stoic countenance?”

(The sensitive see other souls’ undress

It is how they obscure their reluctance)

Some brave souls hide their sadness with swagger

Others in style’s fashionable package

Rest assured under its weight they stagger

As they try to rummage & hope salvage

Please! when you hear of someone’s suicide

Know that you have the same despair ins

http://www.nydailynews.com/new-york/manhattan/2-women-leap-deaths-separate-suspected-suicides-nyc-article-1.3829606

Caring’s Mendacity Sonnet

What hurts the most is our attempts to care

Or, more, it is our desire to appear

Like we want to help others to forebear

(& the cruelty of life to forswear)

This protection of our ego’s standing

In the maelstrom of our society

Is a clumsy attempt at demanding

The golden award of propriety

I heard someone say in Paris one time:

“You cannot save both your face and your ass”

The drunk who uttered these sage words sublime

Knew that posh nobility should come last

You have read 12 lines of my thinking rhymed

In which, on my ego, I’ve dropped a dime

Subway Slashing Sonnet

train victim diptych

There are two unfortunate souls right here
The pregnant woman whose young face was slashed
Thinking about being a new mother dear
(& how to keep herself together lashed)

The other’s ridden life’s roller coaster
Hoping the bottom of the descent’s near
When younger, perhaps she was a “toaster”
Angel Dust, Dope: starting with pot & beer

So onto train ventures the mother new
Avoiding she that’s fighting her demons
(Beelzebub says: “don’t let her dis you!”
Sitting elsewhere was what that was seemin’)

Into her bags she reached for the bright shiv
Payback for dis was what she did give

http://nypost.com/2017/05/28/woman-slashed-on-subway-platform-at-grand-central/

Street Philosopher’s Sonnet



Nights we hung out darkening the corner

Debating our angry impoverished souls

Solving everybody’s problems (but ours)

Getting absolutely none of our goals

We discussed our materialism

How we’d be willing to forgo some things

“Sacrifices” hid our nihilism

So under the streetlights we could take swigs

Our idealism enriches us

With the superiority of youth

Though our western lives have more than enough

We feel obliged to lament third world truth

Street lights shine over ghetto communion

Where Idealists meet in their unions

Garbage Sonnet



Garbage Sonnet 2

 

My curiosity embellishes

All the detritus of modern living

Seeing waste & litter replenishes

My connection to this great world’s giving

 

Soberly I realize that life’s junk

Isn’t made for my edification

But In productions’ full caves I spelunk

I’m mesmerized by litter’s invention

 

Thank you god for these moments with garbage

Your detritus sings me a secret song

Though litter’s capitalism’s carnage

It’s also the charged tea leaves divining

 

The litter we stream behind us in space

Is the comet’s tail: our visible trace 

History’s Victims Sonnet



History’s Victims’ Sonnet 

History’s victims loiter in my mind

Passing paper bagged bottles back and forth

Saying dangerous things that aren’t that kind

Angry words felt, to try to find due north

These no-where drunkards pontificate on

Discussing their failed loser ideas

Under the street light of victor’s great fun

Like school yard “talking story’s” a career

Still, I cannot evict them from their dreams

Of worth, value and righteous justice

Though I’m told they’re players on losing teams

There’s a nobility in their roughness

The true American soul loves losers

‘Cause we know that’s who god really chooses