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Average Poet

Are You Reading Me?

Updated: 2018-03-17T13:54:29.645-07:00




March became my mantra
Despite each searing jolt
Of agony (like plasma,
The price for my revolt)

Which forced my knees to buckle
While I just muttered March
It isn’t hard to stumble
In the ruins of an arch

But I would not surrender
Or be shot for standing still
I’ll stagger on forever
Just to have my own free will.



Sausage is just jumbled bits
A glaring lack of glitz
But if the casing fits

Perhaps you can somehow regain
An outlook through the pane
Exhibiting much less disdain.



Push the button
See the change
Pause the program
Things get strange

Click the channel
Cut the cord
Turn antenna
Into sword

Dented dish
Pull the trigger
Make a wish

Watch horizons
Now unfold
Binge on visions
Flee the old.



This is the last year you can claim
A solitary digit by your name
So make sure you enjoy it my friend
For soon the bliss of youth will end
And though our lot is far from set
I hope you never will forget
The loving things I’ve gladly done
To make your life a happy one.



I know I’m not alone
Despite this nagging loneliness
That festers in my bones
And we’re all on our own
I guess
So it’s meaningless to moan
Especially for those composed of stone.

It’s not that bad a lot
As hardness can be beneficial
And flesh, it tends to rot
Pursuing the proverbial plot
So superficial
And twisting everything into a knot.
I’m solid with the solitude I’ve got.



“I could if I did
But I don’t so I can’t”
Bemoaned the poor fellow
Whose options were scant

“But wait!” He exclaimed
“I won’t be subdued!”
And onward he forged
Conviction renewed.



The flicker will caress
The wax with much finesse
Providing needed light for those who labor in the dark
And though it hardens quick
It satisfies the wick
Of any burning to be lit by one conclusive spark.



I hope she doesn’t reek
Too badly this week
For last week I started to gag
As much as I cringe
When I hear the hinge
Announcing this odious hag

She comes in to flop
And cackles non-stop
While I gasp for breathable air
The whole freaking room
Immersed in perfume
An ancient cadaver would wear

But I’m all about
Working things out
Despite feeling nauseous and faint
So when she comes here
I’ll park her stank near
Some projects with unwanted paint.

By Your Leave


Majestic maple sprout
I’ve watched year in/year out
Each flaming orange gem
That gilds your growing diadem
Makes it plain for all to see
That you be crowned a tree.



Like a scene from the apocalypse
Above the trees and little strips
Of outlets where the lost are led
The morning sun is dark and red

It festers in a toxic sky
Resembling a battered eye
With puffy purple clouds that look
Like bruises from a donnybrook

While in the valley where I vent
The mists maliciously prevent
That sun from helping me keep warm
As I await the coming storm.

The Pariah Theorem


If I told you I felt fractionalized
Would you ask me what was my point
Or would you call me divisive
And put me in my place?

The quotient of dismissal
Can never quite subtract
From any person’s value
And that’s a stone-cold fact.



I am (or so I think)
But who can really say?
I shudder for a blink
Then claim naiveté
To keep me from the brink

We are (or so we’re told)
Endowed with our own will
But those who are controlled
By keepers of the till
Can’t see what they have sold

They lie (or so it seems)
To one who never fit
Into their twisted schemes
Ignoring all the shit
To chase unlikely dreams



My options are open, my mind not so much
For endless deception requires a shield
I must get a grip before I lose touch

And go find myself a hidey-hole-hutch
Some cave where I can stay concealed,
My options are open, my mind not so much;

I need a conviction that calls me to clutch
My brothers and sisters so we can be healed,
I must get a grip before I lose touch.

Condemnation is a crooked crutch
A defensive tool the guilty wield
My options are open, my mind not so much

But I feel that maybe, if we self-adjust
A better way will be revealed.
I must get a grip before I lose touch

Grab hold of redemption before I am dust,
This fate adrift forever sealed;
My options are open, my mind not so much
I must get a grip before I lose touch.



I think about that day
When innocence was burned away
Along with beams of steel
And wonder if it all was real
Or happened like they say

The same old clips we see
Leave many questions nagging me
And though the past is gone
I do not feel it would be wrong
To sift through the debris.

Operating System


We’re told what to think
What we can drink
How we should wear
Our clothes and our hair
When to submit
(I laughed at that bit)
Convinced we have choice
Can robots rejoice
Or conscience corrode?
It’s all in the code.



I slumber each evening at peace with myself
My hangups all hung out to dry on their shelf
Content with the love of my family and friends
I give many thanks as each trying day ends
And though you may think I am heavily drugged
The answer is this: I have simply unplugged.



It’s handiwork is gleaming in the sun
The finest silk a weaver ever spun
But this would never cause it to be vain
A simple strand within the greater skein
That, when the angle happens to be right
Will scintillate with transcendental light.

Checking In


Hello to anyone reading me, hope all is well in your world. Just thought I would let you know that things are going good and I haven't posted as much because I have been working on songs a lot lately and even started a YouTube channel to post my stuff. Here is a link to a children's book I wrote and illustrated many years ago.


It was narrated by Westin my 8 year old grandson, and he really did a great job, I am so proud of him. Check it out and if you like it give it a share, he really deserves it. And keep checking for new uploads, they will be added soon. Well, take care, hope you're having a great season (summer here) it goes so fast, make sure to cherish every second, bye.



A fly that looked like copper
On a leaf of faded brown
Was there behind my dwelling
In this likewise faded town
And somehow it seemed proper
To forget my nagging frown
Such vibrancy compelling
When doldrums get one down.



There were so many lightning bugs
I couldn’t even start to count
So simply gave a couple shrugs
To signify a fair amount

With every greenish yellow flash
It made the gloaming seem
Alive with hope that someone brash
Could still pursue their dream

To fill the world with songs and such
That twinkle with delight
And help bring joy to people much
Like my little friends tonight.



With limited amounts
It’s quality that counts
In terms of what you put into the banks
When Interest is involved
And penalties absolved
Your future self will surely offer thanks.



There was a time
When I was anxious to belong
But I’ve expunged that paradigm

Rejected all the rules
Designed to herd the throng
A bleating bunch of fools

Though none will ever be
As tempted by a song
As misbegotten me.



Automatons are not allowed
To vocalize if they are proud
They must remain behind the scene
Attending to the big machine
Rewarding every other group
Except for those who sweat and stoop
With undeserved larger stubs
Excuse me, time to trim the shrubs.

Bad Burger


Such was what I thought I knew
That there was nothing I could do
To make a lie seem somewhat true
And there was nothing I could say
To make their blather repartee
Resulting in a rash of rue

For such was their bizarre belief
That all their guilty pangs of grief
Were caused by some Caucasian thief
When whether we succeed or not
Has more to do with taking a shot
Than bellowing some tainted beef.



I’m not sure what I was expecting
but I know this isn’t it
where nonstop neglecting
perpetuates the shit

the course to take is action
I can feel it in my gut
while struggling for traction
to rectify this rut.