The more I read poetry
It seems like obituary.
Death in a coal mine
of the innocent canary.
Let us say what needs
to be said finally.

A spark when lover's
love lights the wick
that makes another's
heart begin to tick.

We never talked of pleasure.
  It was always buried treasure.
  Marriage was a woman pure
  as a ****** bride to endure.
  Bette home on John's Island
  she finally made her stand.
  Took her kids and left behind
  his ashes they'll never find.

The sky burst open in a flood
with angry thunder all about
the booming voice of God
whispers in light no doubt.

My dogs needed walking.
We went forth and waded
ankle deep in a flowing
sense of time long faded.

1812 Overture is War's glory
I picked up the dogs' ****
I had to write this story
Tchaikovsky demanded it!

Call or text your special needs.
  Wheelchair to your hollow knees?
  **** her oyster desert dry
  as you break your heart to cry.
Pay the price for what it's worth
empty vessel killed at birth.

The sky's so clear
  in the atmosphere
  stars perch on a tree
  caged birds set free
  my mind takes flight
  into the cold night
  an old lover beckons
  naked in the street
  I'll chase her heat
  I saw her in a window
  her curly hair in a bow
  when I just can't feel
  what's dream or real
  my dogs walk me home.
  I still dream alone.