zing pop pow

I have stopped waiting 

for life to happen 

for the world to change 

for others to…other

who knew Mercedes made a hearse

the dome outside my window 

the one with the cross and flag atop?

across the square where 

four odd lanes cross? 

people gather outside wearing 

whatever the day brings, chatting 

with backs on houses 

in doorways including my own 

in the process of replacement 

a small few inside, sitting waiting 

for the priest

for the hearse to crawl

a flood of mostly men inching 

and I wonder, will the hill be too steep 

as canes clicking

on pavement amidst murmurs 

as the workers hammer 

mistakenly it seems

do not give me your tired

poor or hungry? keep away!

your yearning to breathe 

for I can barely contain 

my own struggles caged

too many pointing-telling

what to do-think: how to be

hardening the shell I sought 

to soften mistakenly it seems 

when existing became a chore

untitled

I cannot laugh at death 

I cannot mock it

No, not even the potential of it

Having watched a life erode

Having made decisions for the end of it

I wish it on one, even the vilest 

I cannot laugh at death

Some lines cannot be crossed 

modus operandi

too easily too often I 

settle into logic

read verbatim 

miss the nuance of intent

apologize for being me

it feels frivolous to want

is anyone else weary?

like…in their bones?

heart and soul never mending 

while the world forgets 

the time we lost

while physical emotional afflictions

linger lasting line a veil

it feels frivolous to want