Down down the Drain (87)

I follow where the liquid falls
consumed by aching fire
bled dry I kneel before past eminence
how low the mighty falls–
I heed–
quiet resignation,
I slump on my throne.

And never once did they warn,
channels clogged and jammed together,
the misery of decreased appetite,
wretched servant of enterprise–
alas, the result–
backward steps,
did I expect too much from me?

I kiss where weeds have been pulled,
I flourished where you died,
but now the soil sinks into my flesh,
paint my future black,
oh, the hatred,
has me spitting,
the terror of starving pride

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More is Less? (67)

The real you isn’t enough,
a sailor must be fearless, strong,
slightly drunk,
sing many songs.
Just human is never good enough,
a priest must be faithful, perfect,
bit naive,
pray many prayers.
Perfection is an imperfection
top is blinding and deceptive,
always best,
even as the last.

When there’s nothing more to give,
What more do you expect:
false pretense?
Slice of heaven on moldy bread?

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