So at the Gates stood Conor
Awaiting his newest best friend.
Faye joined him eager yet sore confused,
This was no one’s idea of a good end
She’ll never be seven
She plays now in Heaven
And our tears yields no answers
To the never answered Oh God, Why?
Why did that thirty-something
Lose contact with his humanity?
Just playing outside in her front yard
These things are always so damn hard
Are we all so willfully and totally blind?
Is this some new flavor of miswrought insanity?
Our ocean awash in pain and despair—
There’s no satisfying answer, ever, anywhere.
Bad parenting, bullying, party drugs?
A chromosome split and expressed wrong?
Just why can’t this stop, just…please…stop!
Do we just let this go and let Pain chase erelong?
Faye and Conor skip off into the sunset,
We here, head in hands, perplexed and twisted.
Happy Valentine’s Day, Faye, and to you who still love;
While our tears coalesce with a countenance sorely misted.
18 more days of insanity
Who you gonna vote for?
I’d rather wash my dishes
Then head to any polling door
Maybe write bad poetry
Or paint those shuttered shelves
Who is going to be president?
I’d rather the Keebler elves!
What would be their policy
For thieves and foul mouths?
Whither goest medical or tax policy?
Is the border secure in the souths?
ISIS or ISIL shrinks out in the Middle East
Somehow I think that’s our problem least