From a hospital bed

Viridian leaves and chrome yellow shoots
Outside, a vivid vegetation explosion
But vomit green walls and cholera stains
Keep me from being blown away

This distance, this trap, my box
Has turned my writing purple
To escape my mind’s monochrome
Because my world is ashen grey

The Date

Mashed Potatoes are very nice
Piled atop some gravied rice.
Filet mignon is just divine
with a spot of good red wine
so why are you drinking only water?

Are you not singularly moved
by how the glazed pear halves are hooved?
Or romantically inclined towards the torte
of ripe red strawberries stewed in port?
Why are you eating only breadsticks?

Well thank you for the lovely dinner
Although you seem to have gotten thinner.
Especially on one half of your behind
My treat next time, you're very kind.

The Blues Man

The man in the cool sunglasses,
Pulls at his Tiparillo.
Swigs his Bourbon.
And makes mellowness descend.
The blues man.
Like so many people walking around,
Tired, exhausted, searching.
Only this man,
In his sunglasses and enlightened demeanor
Knows the way of dealing.
Of beautiful expression.
To say it better for everyone else
And By seeking comfort in numbers,
Under the smoke screen of the bar.
Inside the personality,
Is soothed in his serene admission
Honesty is like the stubbed cigarette
Telling you to cease and desist
The strength in knowing
Someone else feels the same
The mass is shifted and borne.
By the collective shoulder.

Erasing the Past

Bursting with deceit
Swollen with dishonesty
Before your face contorts
Into a that hideous mask of indignation
And flings a book of history
The future is now
You’re not in it
I’ve had enough
Goodbye