Befuddled, Jet Lagged

One man’s true story of being kind of punchy.


Once upon a midnight sleazy
I returned from the Big Easy
Dang, that rhyme just made me queasy
I won’t do it anymore

I’m so tired I make no sense
I’ve running on fumes and incense
And I’m dropping any pretense
I know what this poem’s for

Quoth Beleaguered:
Screw this, I’m going to bed

Two Indeterminately Valid Points

… the age-old question of platonic male-female friendships.

What makes a man think
Because he is friends with a woman
She should want to sleep with him?

Friend zone, indeed!

Rejected Boy

Fair enough.

But what makes a woman think
Because she doesn’t want to sleep with a man
And he wants to sleep with her
That he shouldn’t feel hurt by that?

Alone At A Party

It’s a life kind of thing.

Ancient Age Bourbon

Alone at a party
She decided she wanted to play a character

Someone to replace the drab her
She had been seeing at home in the mirror

So, armed with the magic elixir of Ancient Age,
She burned away her real personality

And while she made no wise choices that night,
She has no regrets, either

For freedom rings, passion blazes,
Youth must live, and mistakes

Have to be experienced

Please Don’t Wake Me Up With Crazy

She called me the next morning…


She called me the next morning
Wanting to know
Why I hadn’t called her

I told her
Because I’m still in bed
And was asleep until you called

You should be thinking about me
And want to talk to me

She said
After what happened last night

Well, I wasn’t.
I said
Maybe we do need to talk again,
Given how you’re acting right now,
I don’t think I want to be there
For the conversation

Words of My Mother

About a year after my father passed away.

Breakfast Nook

She looked at me, concerned, but
With a weariness of heart;
Then spoke these words,
Made sacred in her age:

“Life is for the living, son
The dead have played their part;
The play goes on
Although some leave the stage”

Dream Trailers

These things happen to me more and more lately.


I see sometimes these fleeting scenes from
Dreams I never get to have
Constructed out of broken bits of
Of things I just half-saw

And watch these trailers as they run on
Into others, seamlessly;
Bright patches colored out of mist
In visions light, both rich and raw