It ain’t easy being me….

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Nightmare
Black
covers,
crawls to swallow every thing.
You lose your wife to a
Higher Power,
Your son split into
two versions
him,
one happy and smart,
the other

vengeful
and hateful….

Myself,
cowering before darkness,
dying on the ground.

I told my real son that I would die, because I took it as the omen it was.

The true enough:
dying on the floor.
Struck down by my
son.

Yes,
I struck him down first.
In defense of wife and house,
but he won’t back down….

I didn’t die,
Though my soul is
empty of
wife and children,

(five children,
three sons,
two daugthers and I love them all!)

I didn’t die,…or did I?

Two Walls….

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“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”

They come to the promised land,
but were turned away.

Why?

To make America Great again?

Another wall,
that keeps in people,
made from the clay of
poverty.

Some better off would
called them losers, the
undeserving as part of humanity.

America is Great Again.

Wasted Dreams

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I cried,
How in my life
I will never live in space,
how I will never live on,
or visit Mars,
never serve on cargo ships
to our mining colonies.

Was Dr. Von Braun wrong?

I cried in my loneliness
between my sheets,
of empty pleasures and
and how my stomach groans
on such a diet.

They tell me,
Those doctors,
those people,
that my life is worth living.

Of poverty and potentials
unfulfilled.

I beg your pardon,
I disagree.

Waiting For Night

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A soft glow, versus the
the harsh whiteness of day,
the light of the lamp against
brightenning daylight
form a disappearing contrast.

Overcast and the sun
looks to be on a coffee break and
the harshness covers everything in
adsolute untruthes.

No clarity or respite from the
harshness of daylight, only
a barren wasteland.

I can not wait until night.

04.27.2017

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It’s 6:14 am,
and it hasn’t returned yet.  

Also, have no idea as to when it left.  The flow, that mergence between poet, human being and decency, that drive and need to write, had disappeared and it has slowly leaked away.

I don’t know how I got this way, 

a deasert without words
for miles around, to be at
a lost for words.

But well, to be fair, I have been distracted:

My counts have dropped, and my doctors and sources are insisting that I begin HIV meds right away.

But I haven’t wanted to.
My taking meds would end my run of having a capable and strong immune system, and to take that pill will begin the doubts of
some of my beliefs.

A lost of faith.

And without that, what would my life would or should be
about.

All but one friend has adviced that I take the meds and don’t look back.

I have had my meds for days, however, and I feel no urgent to do so.

Like this would be a good time to check out from life,

Just die.

It’s frightening, to not have that desire to live, to simply be happy with my existence.

All I have is a desire to question.

Lost Cause

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I don’t believe in
Lost causes.

It’s bricks, multicolored and
bitter sweet, are the
brickwork
of my House.

The windows holds
a multitude of broken
hearts,
sliced thinly,
to allow the
moonlight in.

I know not
whom I will later love,
only that I will do so
deeply.