The Last Word

Clyde was a skeptic to the heart
so when they spoke of ghosts at the office
his face smirked between so many remarks,
he spoke of it all being somebody’s imagination
even when the secretary’s shrieked one day
and mention seeing a janitor float through the wall.

Oh the other incidents happen to some,
strange sounds in the halls at night,
voices in offices that were empty,
but old Clyde just mocked them as silly,
went so far to say he dare those specters
to come out when he was around
for he knew in his mind
there was no such thing.

On a dare he stay late one night
just to prove his point
about there being no such things as ghosts.

We wished him well as he locked himself inside
this one room that voices were always heard,
then we all went home to get some sleep.

The next morning we came to that room,
knocked on the door and he slowly opened it,
his face looked so panicked and somber,
before he mumbled about seeing a woman,
mentioned she had two heads and other crazy things,
which we would have thought a joke
until we saw his soaked gray pants
and that big wet spot on the carpet,
so we knew that the ghost
had gotten the last word on Clyde.

Drafted!

My owner used to be such a nice man
worked as a chef and made me such treats,
then he got all obsessed with patriotism
signed up in the Army reserves,
now I don’t care if he wants to be
all that he can be,
but he’s expecting me to join in
with all the crazy things he does.

I don’t mind him making his chef’s hat
from white to camouflage green
or even that he somehow
expect me to help use my tongue
for doing what he calls “KP.”

Was just getting use to his idea of drilling
when he joined this UFO hunter group,
so suddenly his brain when nuts
and it is space aliens at war.

Here I sit and wear his latest helmet creation
like a melon is really laser proof,
but he’s sure got panicked
since joining those UFO stalkers,
which means I’m stuck
forced to tolerate whatever helmet he invents.

Hope he gets over this phase eventually
because when he makes me put on
that aluminum foil space soldiers uniform
all my pals on the block can do
is talk about it behind my back
and I know it isn’t to stay
old Tom is looking cool.

Monday's Checkbook

Weekend trails
lead to steps
through minefields,
shrapnel festers in wounds
hidden underneath
suite of armor
made from credit cards.

Immortality dwells
within the heaven of receipts,
nirvana, the luster
of artificially inseminated
omnipotence.

Sunday's sunset
brings voice of toll keeper
doing imitation of calculator.

Face of night
comes as chalkboard
fingernails drag down its surface
from all the grasps
at ambrosia's appetizers.

Monday's checkbook
always opens by itself,
balance never what imagined,
because of unexpected changes
in banking fees.

Garlands of Jackal Diadem Anthologies

8Diaries of postulated legalese legerdemain,
festoons of crowning avaricious gospels,
erected as ivory towers muffled predator howls,
where whitewashed Superman paragons
hold court behind their haloed masks
over the cemeteries of scandal.

Sleeping spirit of Neo destiny
languishes in rhetoric swamp,
while loud speakers blare
subliminal rote acquiescence.

Eyes of the slumbering
haunted by freedom's fluttering mirages,
vision flashes on landscape
told is pristine,
between the layers of pontificated fog
catch a glimpse of its lunar clarity
and the pockmarks of crater inequity,
but symphony from circus of appeasement
despoils the gaze.

Stumbling while standing on conveyor belt
to mandated lobotomized lucidity,
falling and at last noticing the plastic automaton veneer,
barely visible on the mars to nobility's raiment.

Hibernating seer awakes,
rises as butterfly for truth.

Stamina

Steel lips
guarding numb affections,
seeing tragedy everywhere,
but sorrow's lashes
never felt
by leathery soul.

Lost compassion's pulse
when tears never dried,
just as learned
from father.

Honeycombs

They drip with honey over my heart
in succulent and savory flows of amber warmth
and bathe me in the steady hum in smiles.

It isn’t a single moment’s vivid, vitality
instead it is the feel, the sound or sight
that summons a soothing wave over my mind
so I sense the balm of peace in that encounter
as it swirls and swims inside with its sensory charms,
which rises from any thought they inspire
that takes me on a cerebral journey of profoundness.