8-pronged white star with a black rhombus in each tip.

they keep us like children

fed warm and busy

so we won’t reflect

on their rule in a tizzy




she had a problem

with being polite

to silently hurt

to not hurt another




we claim giving up

is not an option

while all the while sensing

how close it is




her pride kept

getting in the way

of anything

to be proud of




pretty girls

often shielded from truth

by men who lie

lying in waiting




we don’t care much

to think or feel

all we’re consuming

has done that for us




how much of panache

is being at odds

and going to lengths

not to show it




say what you want to caution me

a whish of her locks

a flush of her lips

a flash of her eyes

throws all to the wind




deathly afraid of reality’s questions

we spin it to knots and nets

holding up answers




Most do not want to explore why we are here, what here is, and how to react, fearing the answers or the inability to find any.




a time when we listen

to loudmouths

to drown out the pains

of our inner voices




how i am

is a rude inquisition

leaving me showed

you don’t care anymore




the lie becomes truth

if we lower our hurt

by going along with power




she suspects she

could have any man

hooked flapping on her line

that’s why she’s so careful

not giving any sign




never threaten

a lover to leave

extortion will not

beget what you need




no one can put forth

an even keel for long

without being held at night




i feel you want to go

and try not to let you know

that i always lie

about wanting you free

maybe oh baby

that’s why you’re leaving me




drowning in predictable muck

she thought she could not

remove from her being




she always had him catering

insisting it payment

that she’d be a client




here’s to the lies

that keep up our lives




she calls him an artist

as if a disease

a quirky oddball who puts up a piece

a humored child with disgraces rife

an uncouth zealot full of strife

to be kept at a distance

from her ordered life




don’t be a victim

and if you are

know others assuring

you won’t remain




but you won’t see me

and though you do

you’re scared of me

i’m too much like you




where and with whom

and how you are

i don’t dare ask

as much as it kills me




you state what you claim to be

tight from the getgo

as if you fear someone

will question that




people with lacking control

may try to compensate

by exerting it over others

or worshiping it in others




mostly pretending

life won’t be ending

acting surprised

when it does




using others as stepping stones

choking their lives

and crushing their bones

they call it getting ahead




her penchant

for the overly dramatic

made him hold back even more




tedium slows time

causing wait for its passing

some prefer that

so their life seems extended

getting an edge on forever beyond




she hates to think

like everybody

unless they think

the way she thinks




not good enough

at sight unseen


with judging herself

through others




she calls me a man

as if it could keep me

from ever being her friend




some men feign toughness

in compensation

for their natural state

of deflation




the beautiful dolls

get all the applause

their movers and shapers

stay back for their cause




he goes for who says it

not what is said

looks for what someone is

ignoring trait




she’s afraid

to be nakedly honest

among a mob

raping clothed with deceit




the hard and the soft

are roles and reversals

but in the end

we’re boned watery flesh




to warrant inclusion

attendance and pay

patrons may sway themselves

liking the play




many build shells

around themselves

to travel unscathed

through life’s many hells

the valiant go naked of armor




she is afraid of him

taxing her life

with not much in return




he pleaded with her

why do you claim me

if wanting to love you

is reason to shame me




we are flowers

sometimes thinking we are rocks

we love calm light

seeking friends in storm and night

to not be afraid anymore




wondering what’s wrong

with all these people

how can they live with their sternity




charlatan’s empires

built on fear

and telling people

what they want to hear




she needed his love

to be sacrificed cruelly

on her bloodstained virgin

altar of pride




holding so much in reserve

saving soul expressions

for days which continued

will likely never come




she held back unsure

that being with him

could make up the pain

of his absence




she does not want love

but love keeps wanting

to take her existence hostage




she plead temporary insanity

love ought not need such humiliation




most of us do not want our freedom

because it deprives us

of certainty’s safety




what if we had no tolerance for liars




he acts like he’d like

to catch her attention

but then he’s afraid

what to do with it




we choose to root for teams

who don’t know us

would we not rather have teams

who know us rooting for us




i’ll try to look better

behave more to like me

now that love

has me under our guns




pretentiousness worn ironically

like cowboy boots

on her marzipan feet




i thought i felt

i had the impression

most sorries start like that

time to come off

our minds’ high horses

and walk through life without a hat




i want the real

even if it’s not

what i want




how can it be

that men chase or flee

not stand their ground

till peace is found

their death blood life

a bond to ban strife




she’s busy making people buy

into her fierce self-admiration

pays tokens no attention or tribute




thick shells

become encumbering encasements

once we decide to move about freely




thoughts of us

seeds that stay


cursed to decay




don’t hiss dissing this

your mind

the forked tongue

of an angry curled heart




the first thing

she told me was prejudiced

as if to protect her

from being mistaken




she never had hands

upon her before

and flinched from the comfort

his touch meant to give




indifference and ill will

kill tender parts of us

trusting we’ll be quiet

pretending not to be hurt




we deem the sun is rising

when our ground is turning

and keep this way surmising

with neighbors’ houses burning



Drawing in black ink of an open daisy flower facing the viewer. The daisy is the symbol of the Philosophy of Happiness book.



Blue and black title plus stylized, 8-pronged white star with a blue rhombus in each tip and separate rhombi on grey background.