"Swimming With Sharks?" (P.o.t.D. 7/4/15)

Why do they hate so?
To survive vicious circles
Of intolerance...?

"Ten Word Autobiography" (P.o.t.D. 6/29/30)

Enjoys puzzles, games;
Bit cultured...
Many jobs held;
Suffering poverty.

"Haiku Hack" (P.o.t.D. 6/27/15)

I wrote a poem, see?!
With syllables all counted,
Yet no point was made.

"How We Roll.." (P.o.t.D. 6/25/15)

Sticky rice, rolled up tight
Upon a crispy, salty sheet of nori,
Snuggling with cucumbers, carrots,
Halibut perhaps - or other fish:
Ingested with the zesty tang of wasabi!

"Two minutes, Twice" (P.o.t.D. 6/23/15)

Two minutes: Go!
How fast can I type?
How fast can I think?

Of course, my critics
Will tear this idea apart -
Saying where's the flow of ideas..
Silly rule you're using..
and so on..

I do not know what
Will come from the race,
But an attempt to stream,
To bring the thoughts

Talking about what i want to talk about

...and timer rings.

So.. update my phone app,
For the next quest,
And I start the timer again.

Time is trickling past,
Sometimes roaring like rapids -
Eating away at the thread
Woven for my path
By the Three Fates

Time is one of my
Most valuable assets -
If I give you my time,
My attention,
my devotion..

then - damn. two minutes gone again.

"Cutting Cuts" (P.o.t.D. 6/22/15)

Cutting up in the kitchen
Cuts short my labored thoughts...

Cutting off his corn -
Cut to the chase -

Cutting hurts...
Cut deep,
Cuts.

Measuring Bipolar

How can I tell that I may be depressed?

I feel so sluggish, I just want to stay in bed, I'm not eating a lot...

I can't find the motivation to write, to explore, to do stuff...

It's weird. It's not like I have a perfect mood meter in my brain - partly because I'm trying to take a measure of my brain with my brain. So, when I'm depressed, I'm not always in a foul mood, or wishing to die, or having a pity party - I'm just having a hard time piecing ideas together, and following through on plans. My brain is just not operating as fast as when I'm normal.

Now, when I'm manic.. whoo.. it becomes hard to stay focused on one train of thoughts, because others keep trying to jump up in their place. Also, because my brain feels so alive, I do get excited, but I also can get irritable.

At either extreme, I can easily lose focus, which can make me ineffective in getting things done. Also, the swings are not really tied to external events, like my job or my relationships or the weather - the swings just happen. Now, I do think good or bad events in my life CAN impact the severity of the swings...

In any case, I've been feeling depressed, in the bipolar fashion. I'm just not getting stuff done, because I keep feeling like I'm running out of time. I just want to stay in bed, because I feel exhausted.

"Bottom of the Can" (P.o.t.D. 6/21/15)

Disappointing grounds
Made coffee look, taste like tea -
Time to buy a can.

"Night Shift" (P.o.t.D. 6/20/15)

As rain trickled down,
Sleep swallowed the sunlight time -
Night finds me awake.

"Haikus cry, 'Help me!'" (P.o.t.D. 6/16/15)

Feeling frustration,
Order mixes with chaos,
And dime poems are born.

"Writer's Lament" (P.o.t.D. 6/14/15)

The desire is an ashen ember -
Dying bonfire in the summer night -
As painful weariness draws out the tears
Sacrificed upon losing writer's fight.

"Feeling Fetal" (P.o.t.D. 6/13/15)

Huddled in my bed,
Hiding from some simple jobs –
Hindered by my mood.

"Four subject words" (P.o.t.D. 6/11/15)

Pick four words from the environment around you,
And write four fairly simple sentences,
Using them as the subject...

So, I'm in the kitchen,
Typing away at my laptop,
Perched upon the dining table;
And I wonder why I signed up
For a grammar group?

None the less, I'll give it a whirl,
Using books, computers, television, and the couch -

"As the unread books gather dust,
The television blares in the background,
And the couch sags under his sleeping weight.
Meanwhile, the computers sit idle,
Frozen upon webpages visited hours ago."

"Kotter's Groan" (P.o.t.D. 6/10/15)

My brain is pudding,
My muscles twitch and ache so,
Gray hairs - all speak age.

"Freedom of Speech, or Peace of Mind?" (P.o.t.D. 6/8/15)

Remaining silent,
The anger simmers, unheard -
Leave the post to trolls.

"Noise Disruptions" (P.o.t.D. 6/7/15)

Came home to silence,
Set up to start my writing –
Now, noisy house mates.

"Oh, Thank Heaven!" (written for contest: "Sandwish") (P.o.t.D. 6/6/15)

Sandwiches at the 7-Eleven
Live for only two days, or perhaps three,
Before they're written off to some heaven -
At least, that's what the dumpster divers see...

I could say, "Oh, so much more...", but, "Alas!"
By working there, my words face an impasse.

"Navigating Highs and Lows" (contest entry) (P.o.t.D. 6/2/15)

The summer that I just turned twenty-four,
A bipolar episode crossed my door...

Now that I have somehow turned forty-two,
I have learned tricks to appear sane to you.

Eighteen years of suffering strange mood swings
Has led to much pained wisdom that each brings.

"Beauty at Dusk"‏ (P.o.t.D. 6/1/15)

Bright spot at sunset -
Venus undressing, perhaps
Through bedroom windows?

"Chocolate Chips" (P.o.t.D. 5/31/15)

Hiding deep within the wings,
As the crazy show goes on,
Manipulating some things
That create effects brazen...

Will I step into spotlights?
Or remain unheard, unseen,
Masked by shadows, no more brights.
What has Fate said, that I've been?

"Obsession" (P.o.t.D. 5/29/15)

Wide awake with words
Swimming like subconscious sharks;
They make me mental.

acrostic... (P.o.t.D. 5/24/15)

Am I awake, or a sleeping zombie?
Nothing spins my mind like thought tornadoes -
Growing such grand replays within my head -
Enter people telling me that I'm wrong,
Reasoning with flawed logic, emotion...

Seems like science is under such attacks
Everywhere I look, without mercy,
Eroded by popular opinions
That won't face up to lining up the facts.
How has the wool been pulled over our eyes
Every day by snake-oil debators?
Saddens me, that this - this is our culture...

"Strengthen, Oh Capillaries!" (P.o.t.D. 5/23/15)

Wouldn't it be nice
If poems flowed from my fingers
Like blood through my heart?

"sleep beckons" (P.o.t.D. 5/22/15)

Sleep beckons me back
To bed, to dream, to feel warmth,
To hide in covers.

"Under the Heel" (P.o.t.D. 5/21/15)

I feel such outrage
As the wealthy's money chase
Leaves me desolate.

"Sixth Street Saga" (P.o.t.D. 5/20/15)

Before the clock had struck barely past ten,
A painted up tart waggled her loose tongue,
And a fray spilled out from the seedy den
Over all the damage her words had done.

For them to regain order and control,
The cops passed through the crowd, on razor’s edge,
Binding and cuffing and bumping heads ‘til –
They wound up Plopping dozens behind bars.

As the wounded's anger fizzled and itched,
A palpable foul cloud permeated
The jail’s grid, leaving all on razor’s edge,
Wafting like a toxic substance, heated.

Hours later, the tart still drank at the bar,
While the angry men fumed in the dank cells
And the police kept the streets, under guard.
She’d make no money that night for “a nail”.

contest - The last analog generation (P.o.t.D. 5/19/15)

When I was ten, and my brother fifteen,
We'd wage war with plastic models reworked.
His flagship? A SR-71
With a launching bay for a small fighter...
That was '82, when we played vinyl.

The summer I turned nineteen, I played games,
Like Battletech, at a fantasy con,
With friends I had met a few weeks before
Through BBS networks, across Dallas...
'91, and walkmans still held some sway.

I was 28, living like Spartans
With roommates who would play lots of board games.
Strange that no computer was always on,
We couldn't afford that necessity...
2000, probably CD's last years.

Now, I'm 42, though youths would not know
How that's the "Answer", because they don't read
Anything beyond their Facebook news feed.
Alas, I find myself playing phone games...
Today, we download and skip radio.

"Feeling Dirty" (P.o.t.D. 5/18/15)

Blood, sweat, dirt and more -
Feels like they’re a second skin,
Not letting me breathe.

"Catatonic Conundrum?" (P.o.t.D. 5/15/15)

Falling into a deep slumber,
No dreams appear, no midnight thoughts
Of me gently sawing lumber -
Oh, but that's a low, growling snore,
And there's plenty of that in store
Which I still do not remember...

It's sad that I no longer dream,
As dreams are icing on the cake,
Irish tea with decadent cream:
Food for my poor beleagured soul -
They help rest my mind, make it whole,
Give insanity a good trim...

I hear tale, that I do mumble
As my mind in its restless rest
Does blindly wander and stumble.
I feel I cling to waking hours,
And even when upon my bower,
As reflex to talk, I grumble.

"Oh, the Senseless Death!" (P.o.t.D. 5/13/15)

'Nother squirrel dead,
Seen on the walk to my house..
Must they cross the street?

untitled (P.o.t.D. 5/12/15)

Sky crying, leaves tears
On ground - dying leaves stuck here,
Not flying: seeds' gear?

"Hallmark" (P.o.t.D. 5/10/15)

Is it another Hallmark holiday?
Mothers and fathers and lovers and more
Are sent cards, given dinner - loved this way...
Hopefully, it does not feel like a chore.
It would be nice to be thankful each day,
Alas, we forget, most days, to be sure.

"Whispers, Like Thunder" (P.o.t.D. 5/9/15)

Sharp intake of breath!
She saw me admiring her -
Surely, she smiled back!

"Where do I go from here?" (P.o.t.D. 5/8/15)

Some times, we just want to get out and skate,
Not caring about careers, or ladies -
Just riding the board, doing tricks 'til late.

Some times, we will take time out for the gym,
To push and pull machines and their weighties,
To stretch our bodies' muscles to their lim...

You see, we don't want to live in our head
When we can play board games with our maties
And chuckle when their armies are all dead.

You see, men get quite a lot of their joy
Reliving our youth, back in the eighties -
Simple times, when each of us was a boy.

"In the Shower" (P.o.t.D. 5/6/15)

Hot water cascades
Upon oily skin, washing 'way
Workday's exhaustion.

"The Smoking Feline" ( P.o.t.D. 5/5/15)

"'Twas no ordinary feline,
Rather an assassin divine -
Skilled at striking birds from the skies,
With her claws, sharp as steely knives;
Or, if the birds flew out of reach,
Then, swift with blowpipe, she could breach
Their feathered breasts in single blows,
Sending their souls where God 'lone knows."

(waiting to see if I can post the picture that inspired this, over here)

"Poverty Laments" (P.o.t.D. 5/4/15)

Life becomes much harder when I'm so poor.
I worry on how I'll catch up on rent,
I can't buy food at the grocery store...
Where, oh where, has all of my money went?

I'm kept under thirty hours at my job,
Paid close to the minimum hourly wage -
So on healthcare.gov, I can still shop,
But without employer help, I do rage!

Sixteen dollars per month, earned in food stamps
Do not stretch very far - maybe four meals?
Does not eating right lead to muscle cramps?
I don't know. Doctor's fees are so unreal.

So, that's a peek at my painful pinches
Of poverty, at which my heart wrenches.

"Two Bee Attempts" (P.o.t.D. 5/1/15)

To fly, like a bee,
From hive to flowers, all day,
Working to make food.

Or...

Flying amidst fields of fertile flowers,
I gather pollen, all through the day's hours,
Only to return to my humble home,
To feed queen and larvae who cannot roam.

"Dune Reference?" (P.o.t.D. 4/30/15)

Fear - the mind killer -
Leads us to ill-thought actions
With later regrets.

"Bemoaning Work" (P.o.t.D. 4/29/15)

Stocking groceries
Took longer than expected,
Left time constricted.

"Talking About the Weather" (P.o.t.D. 4/28/15)

A damp chill crept into town, late last night,
Riding forth on the backs of slate grey clouds -
Casting grave portents of much rain, today
To bless the fields and their flowering crowds.

"What the Nose Knows" (P.o.t.D. 4/27/15)

The pungent smell
Of dirt, sweat, and toilet
Tells the poors' tale
Of living on the street,
When, riding on city bus,
Did we happen to meet.

"Ten Year Chip" (P.o.t.D. 4/26/15)

The brass medallion holds a bit of weight,
Engraved with an "X" for ten sober years -
Some quite happy, and others not so great -
Earned today after much laughter and tears.

"Imperfect Copy"

My simulacrum
Works days, while I work the nights -
Our music differs...

"Exhausted" (P.o.t.D. 4/25/15)

It's one of those days,
When I'm wore out from my job
And writing is tough.

"Threshold" (P.o.t.D. 4/24/15)

A desire to describe dreams deferred
When writing is now a wrangling of each word -
How then will my hopeless heart be heard?
Be still, my soul, to soar like the black bird...

"Global Warming Haiku" (P.o.t.D. 4/22/15)

Stewing in our filth,
Heat creeps up, slowly, deadly -
Cockroaches rejoice!

"Finding My Boyhood Kindness..." (P.o.t.D. 4/20/15)

Why does the crawling cockroach scare me so?

The hairs on my skin bristle at the thought
Of that bug touching me with prickly legs!
So I would end its brief life's crawl without
Second thoughts, claiming, "Oh! But it lays eggs!"

As a young boy, I would embrace bugs, frogs,
Snakes, and other non-mammals with such glee!
Did I grow wiser, as I aged, because
Bites and stings can cause pain - that I now see?

Yet I've grown softer now, and show respect
For all the many lives beyond my own.
Show them to the great outdoors, to infect
Some other boy, with new wonders he's shown.

"Questioning Leisure" (P.o.t.D. 4/19/15)

Is it time wasted,
To play games, and write these poems,
When those give me joy?

"Pollen sucks." (P.o.t.D. 4/18/15)

Look! Pretty flowers -
"Ack! Ack! Thbbt..." (They're killing me,
These damn allergens...)

"Separation Anxiety..?" (P.o.t.D. 4/17/15)

Seasons roll on, in this cycle of life.
Despite our clinging to those brief moments,
The Reaper will swing wide his razor scythe
And separate us from our sharp torments.

"Personal ad?" (P.o.t.D. 4/13/15)

Seeking some good words
To entertain all my friends
In my daily poems.

"International TableTop Day" (P.o.t.D. 4/11/15)

Ah! To play today
Many games of luck and skill -
The planet plans it!

"Testing Dilemna" (P.o.t.D. 4/10/15)

Teachers face testing
That drains their students of hope -
What else is out there?

untitled (P.o.t.D.4/8/15)

Roses are in bloom -
Blushing pink and scarlet reds
To wilt away soon.

untitled (P.o.t.D. 4/7/15)

Memories laid bare
As I wrestle with the words,
Trying to write poems.

"Seeking the Sweetness" (P.o.t.D. 4/6/15)

Peeling the hours away from this sweet day
To get to the juicy fruit of a dream -
Not remembered, drinking at the cafe,
A draught of coffee, with sugar and cream.

"To Cleanse.." (P.o.t.D. 4/5/15)

Step into shower
Where warm water washes 'way
Worries of the day.

"Worried over water" (P.o.t.D. 4/4/15)

'Tis but a fine mist,
Yet they predict drenching rain -
Stay inside, stay dry.

"Write-offs" (P.o.t.D. 4/1/15)

Sandwiches, brownies -
Surviving on last night's trash...
Still, thankful for them...