Creme brulee

The chef builds a house around

A sinkhole in the ground

Out of ashes rises concocted oceans

Fusions and potions

Flavors from the soul. splendid notions

All his aspirations and moneys abound

Spent in his desire to make a new sound

But little Betty Yelps her review

Her mirrored reflection on her knees in a pew

Her own sinkhole it spews

The chef closes his doors as she texts from her bed. The power we’ve gained with discrediting threads. Entitled from birth resurrecting the dead. “I just came for the comments” they tweeted and said. It’s a bible study and no one breaks the bread.

The internet lord and saviour

creme brulee on your screen it has no flavor

My 9 volt revolt

Boredom is a state of mind

I actually enjoy being bored

I also enjoy

Seeing. Touching. Feeling. Smelling. Tasting. Experiencing. Chills.

Writing. Talking learning. Texting.
Looking at you. mirrors. Thrills

Winds tickle my arm hairs. My tongue drowns in tea.
A bird entices my eardrum

My eyes blur changing what I see

Boredom is a cool man’s nature
Absent from the rush of shyiety
Devoid of angst_ Highiety
Given a sweet moment of peace

We have little time not ruled by others
Or the monies that they tease
Play it wisely but don’t tell me
Boredom is your disease

Humans doing and humans being

Hours. minutes. seconds
Elders. adult. babies

Tick the same tock
Until that clock

Runs out of batteries

Weiner seeds

I smothered it
Before my mother could
Before she did
Bring the ashes down to me

Support me. You have to support me
You’re the only word I breathe

I’m driving with my headlights off
In countries they’ve never seen

Before it can be ruined by the haters
I’ll burn it down …..

but you should see

Maybe the new moms and daughters
Can stroke the flowers. Plant the seeds

Tonight I’m in Vienna.
Not afraid of immigrants
Or vomit on the streets.
Men will be men without mothers around

I’ll try not to be the one to smother the sound

With my jaded eyes
Baby little leaves they die
Before the forest grows new trees
Watered by the tears
Of ones who are meant to bleed
As I pretend that I’m the sorry one
Hungry little boy. Hungry pathetic needs

I found in this old city

A youthful hope. Maybe it can breed

I’m just passing through

But there’s a seed inside of me

No father’s day card

A man’s beard will turn grey
Sure he is tired
Stressed. Ignored. Overweight.
Tired and underpaid
A man’s desires change. Hesitate.

Not so much from the burdens
But from the notion he won’t be great
All lifes aspirations gone unnoticed
Another patch of grass on a grave

One day he will come to see,
what he has made is all he will be
He won’t have time to make world peace
Or even change reality
Succumbing to us, society
He too starts to dissolve into the sea
Our nondescript, bland parlor of nobody’s
Of backseat heroes and worker bees.
An opinionated zero a lurker with a wheeze

I hope this man made a family
Before he got caught up with the squeeze
Of lifes biggest hypocrisy.

To try to please

Even still

I was sipping on a cup of coffee
But it didn’t want to talk to me

So I took it to the movies

I was too obsessed with you
To pay attention to the screen

Even after the credits. I sat there wishing
You were right there next to me

Every tune I hear
Every time I turn on the TV

I imagine telling you about it

Like how you’d tell others about the things we did together, or things I said

I was sipping on a cup of tea.

1 sugar just a splash of cream

You used to listen to me