40 is the new 18.

40 is the new 18.
I feel just like blowing my brains out again.

Work, Home, Sleep.

Work.
The day is long,
and longer still with joyless hours left to fill.
Home.
empty house of other chores,
further toiling lonely hours.
Sleep.
filled with dreaming restless dreams,
breathing body feels the dark,
acridly succumbing to losing of the self
and slipping away into the temporary grave of slumber.

Not Trying

Somewhere out there
is a really wonderful lady.
The kind of gal I could really dig.
The kind of woman I can talk to.
The kind of woman who enjoys the things I do.
The kind of woman who can thrill me head to toe
if I put my arms around her and kiss her mouth,
the sort of girl who wont bring me down by being
all into something i don't like,
the kind of person whose personality is like music
to my inner ear,
someone beautiful.

She is probably married.
She is dating someone cool.
She would have liked me better when I had long hair
and wont recognize me in this suit.
She lives out of state.
She saw me somewhere, but when faced with crowds
I get nervous and shy and just walked on by.

how do i fool myself, this time, into being
and not trying.

Lonely and Horny and Shy.

"water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink"

Perhaps something good will happen.

Venturing, as I rarely do, out and about
and on the town, I am stunned
with the vision
everywhere
of Beautiful, Beautiful women.

Art shows and restaurants
and just walking down the street,
Beautiful, beautiful women.

A path that stretches in all directions
away and out of site.

Sitting at home on a Saturday night,
as is more frequently the case,
chores need doing,
trying to cook for one,
the darkness of the night
closes in around me,
restlessly wondering,
where, out there, in this town of mine,
can a person go?

Every friend I have
is in some ways already occupied.
They are married. They are moving. They are doing something constructive.
Perhaps I should paint;
Isolated, lonely communion with color.

I am lonely and horny and shy.

brotherly love

The love of fellows;
friends and family
and colleagues too,

one would be lost with out all of you.

but even when such love abounds:

if tender lips can not be found,
a face as lovely as all that's fair,
accents lovely to the ear,
flesh which tastes most pleasing and sweet,
passion that responds like a well practiced dance,
skin and hair so soft to touch,
an appetite for loving much,
a tender chiding of concern,
a heart that innocent does love
without some ghosts to weigh it down,
tender lips which fit with mine,
and humor that can know my mind,

without this sort of physical love
and all the pleasures it can prove
all seems quaint and slightly numb
and leaves me raging and restless and dumb.

Good friends I love you one and all.
but who can answer such a call?

and even on my own home grounds
i feel lost without this love around.

Tempting Fate.

O' time and fortune and hope sublime

please hear my words and answer kindly.

I beseech your favor a second time,

or more perhaps, for it could be

that often you have smiled on me

and I have never felt this grace,

though were these favors never shown

I would have known the sting

of grave calamities and maybe even death.


So once already did Love's sweet face

shine its sun lit lovely grace

into my life with sweetest charm,

only to have my devotion stray

and lose it then forever.


So double now is what i ask,

and I fear that nature,

with all its might,

is not equal to this task.


Before time's tireless, reckless, hands

Reek their arts of aging man,

unto its utmost final craft.

Before the canvas, Time, is filled,

Its final strokes, to make us dust,

and blacken every love and lust,

yes, even before the day begins

in which age can see its coming end

and must concede its time is near

and memories only of all that's dear.

yes while there is still life to live

to me, another angel, give.

Someone who, by natures gifts,

suits me well and makes me feel

that love is good and love is real.

O' universe, you know my heart,

and know what every detail is

of what i need to happy live.

Please help me then, to find her soon,

for time is swiftly using up.

er' else what gifts i have to use

your reputation i will abuse

and spell in poem, art and song

how all the universe is wrong

and ever artful the truth to tell

that all is all and all is hell.

The Shadow Planet.

in the shadow world.
same time, same place as where we are,
but removed by magic
so as to be unseen by most
save that it effects this world
with plots and schemes
of foul devising
and fades its agents away like mists
to leave man pondering
the evil in his midst.

the globe of this strange other world
is all about it formed grotesque
were fearsome shapes and crags
in shadow's dizzied churled
menace and foretell of dooms
and so arranged with artful chaos
as to defy even that sense of beauty
which in a hostile rugged landscape can be found
no real life adapted to these horrors
pointed sharp and stinking poison.

no sun of light shines in its sky
but a shadow ball more black than night
which shoots its blackness out like waves
and covers everything that's here
in oil black oppressive fear
a thousand variants of dark
a lightless universe of stark and evil gloom.

the shadow planet is with our world
the empty space about us filled
the darkness driven out but never killed
it's empty, evil, cold and black
and waits to take us ever back
into the abyss from which we came
the never place with nothing name.

and there upon that poisoned sphere
exists the nameless creature witch
in formless malevolence and hate
and secret scheming
endless waits
and sees with eye like blind though seeing
this world's every living being
and from the hidden places
seeps its formless hands like liquid creeps
into atom's shadows place
the memory of its faceless face
and adds to natures boundless gifts
the errors and the tiny rifts
the opposite of that which lives.