I’ve got the perfect excuse:

I wasn’t there, I am too young,

I don’t speak the language,

And would have been too far away.

Perfect, but nothing like good enough.

In life’s harsh light, we were all there;

Young, old, dead, alive or unborn:

We all know what happened.

Condemned to be cogs in the machine,

Nobody can do the dodge now;

No one can hide and say

‘It’s nothi...

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Middle Americans, in their homely way,

Are often overheard to say:

'I was just goofing around.'

They goof and they goof and they goof,

And sometimes they goof a little more.

And then we get Donald Trump.

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at rest at last

she sees no light

finally gave up without a fight

left no partner

or one to mourn

her destiny beneath stone and lawn

how did she live

for eighty years

yet leave behind a dearth of tears?

or is there life

beyond this vale

that gives a meaning to her tale?

maybe she got

her just dessert

to make up for a life of hurt

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Chasing wonders,
With a pen and a paper,
An empty sheet,
A piece of oblivion.

Staring blankly,
Eyes lost in the wilderness,
Once with a blink,
A whimper towards nothing.

Looking around,
Inside a four-cornered room,
Pastel purples,
In between the white curtains.

Oblivion,
Running strokes on the paper,
A pen and ink,
Breaking the bars of this cage.

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I am the one you kick cans at as you pass me in the street.

I am the one with the dirty hair and the scruffy clothes.

I am the one you cower from and snarl at as you pass my feet.

I am the one you pretend you can’t hear or blatantly ignore as I mutter ‘Spare change please’.

I was like you once I had a home, a family a smile. Now I have my dog.

I fought for the country ...

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