Four Poems: Vanity, Madness, Lazyness & Death

The Hornet’s Vanity

Ev’
poet,
ev’
writer,
ev’
singer,
ev’
artist,
has an immortality box—,
one as big as their coffin.
Here is where they lay-way
their past, present, for the
future…;
after they’re gone.
After the aspiration bird
has flew the cope, and they died,
(left them to rot as maggots
in there sarcophagus).

Even after death the:
poet,
writer,
singer,
and artist,
want to fly into the hands
of the mortal living
(dive like an eagle).

He dreams he is painted
on the walls of caves
(not yet discovered);
painted on canvas,
written in a book,
detailed in a poem,
made into a statue,
itched on street signs,
when in essence,
he’ll never know;
oh, yes, he wants to be
on coins also, and stamps
(like kings and presidents)—;
and he hopes to change
the world before he dies,
he wants to be known
that he came, he was,
once alive.

Where in the world
did he get such a notion?
Perhaps the bird is not
a bird…but a hornet
with big wings,
and a big silent sting!


#2294 (2-28-2008)
Written today at Starbucks, in Circle
In Lima, Peru (300 PM)



12


Lazy Boy


A lazy boy is like a hand full of dung,
the longer you hold on it, the more it
smells; the more it smells, the more
people end up looking at you, as if its
yours.

#2296 (2-28-2008)











13



Madness

My madness is under my scalp—;
if I had a wig, I’d have no trouble
getting rid of it….
I thought about laying in the snow
and freezing my madness:
and my wife said that was, “Insane…!”

O, I am empty for any more ideas,
witless, clueless!
Meanwhile, I simply endure, —
and point my finger, middle finger,
every which way.


#2295 (2-28-2008)



When I’m Dead

When I’m dead I’ll ask the Lord
if I can come back for a spell,
to make sure my wife, Rosa
is well…and I’m sure
He’ll say yes; and
to let her know,
she can go
on with
life…
I’ll see her later
beyond the tunnel's light.


#2297 ((11:30 PM)(2-28-2008))
Written at home, in Lima Peru, 11:30 PM