the hurting’s all around,
for him, untravelled ground –
he does not seek her world to know
he there remains, homebound

her heartbreak he has missed;
his own, he will insist,
seems worse to him – what he must bear –
her sorrow he’s dismissed

insipid elegy
he sings sans harmony –
there is no bridge to join them while
there is no empathy

the rain, it falls in showers,
we craft our jeweled memoirs,
and so the pains we bear (we find)
are ours and only ours —

and so it never ends:
the world of could’ve-beens —
because he just dismisses pain,
he never finds
real friends

Justice Doesn’t Care

Oh, no, my angry one.
Don’t look for justice there:
Believe me when I tell you, son,
That justice doesn’t care

Across most time and space
In all the earthish globes:
We find self-satisfaction comes
From wearing certain robes

They sleep a babies sleep,
With calm, untroubled mien:
Within their high-walled castle deep,
Behind the stately screen

While those they should attend
Are vanishing, ignored:
Each faux Platonic guardian
Is feted and adored

So do not waste your tongue;
They see sans cones or rods —
For justice doesn’t care among
Our worthless

Internet Fail

The songs we often sang,
I cannot find them there;
It’s like a page of history
Just vanished in the air

Although, they’re in my mind,
And I can re-create;
It helps when I have all the words,
My mem’ry isn’t great —

I thought the Internet
Kept track of everything;
And so it seems to do, except
For what we used to sing