Hospital Sonnets

 5-25-2022

Another mission faltered on its way

The officers surrounded me again

They rain upon parades and on my day

to be this good again, I know not when

But for those fleeting moments on my own

I crossed the streets, ignoring all the signs

Few people are offended by my tone

They pour no drinks, not even beer or wines

So, dying of this thirst, I call for aid.

Am laughed at by the armored men w/ guns

I sing and play but still I'm never paid

Thrown nickels hurt, I'd settle for some ones

If no one listened, I'd still do the same

for Budda is a mission and a name.

5-25-22

My destiny is to pass out and live

I've never died, so far as I recall

But, when I do, the others will forgive

Step over broken bottles in the hall.

Tomorrow, though, should be another day

awake by eight, completely blitzed by 9

I stumble out the door and on my way

My path resembles just a wavy line.

The lubricated mind is now complete

I point its power at this empty page

I fill it with these rhymes that can't be beat.

Discarded spells from some retired mage.

The old words still work wonders in the dark

They know that sparkling eyes provide the spark

Let's write another sonnet in this book

To pass the time and occupy the mind

Tomorrow we can come and take a look

to see what lovely writing we can find

The letters string together, making words

The words accumulate creating lines

I'll play guitar for lizards, trees, and birds

And charge the awestruck gawkers heavy fines

I scoop them up and hurry on my way

and spend them all on strings and picks and beer

My breakfast wakes me up to start the day

My future not in stone and crystal clear

Another morning waits to find its end

and here I'm sitting, waiting for a friend.

The cobwebs gather on my crippled limbs

The spiders have constructed lovely homes

The gardener sharpens shears and truly trims

The hero of the story bravely roams

The princess in the tower waits for aid

The dragon that protects her is asleep

The pastries for the party have been made

The moat around the castle isn't deep

The sorceror is staring into mist

The visions that he sees portend the dawn

The lips of lovers waiting to be kissed

The star-crossed lovers wait to get it on

The fairy tale starting to unfold

As fire turns to ice and growing cold

These sonnets are so easy to complete

But no one ever reads them in the end

In centuries they may be called elite

And passed around to someone's special friend

For now I'll write to pass the endless time

This pen may last another couple days

Let iambs come, continuing to rhyme

Impressing in the old familiar ways

I know not how much longer I must wait

Until I'm loosed again upon the land

I've naught to do but deal with my fate

And take the wayward angel by the hand

I'll soon take music to the sullen street

another sonnet now becomes complete

Gun Sonnet

Erasing trash that never should exist.

Relying on my instinct and my gun.

I want the streets as clean as who I've kissed.

Corruption and its evil ways are done.

Alone, I wait to rid the world of sin.

Regretfully, my work has much to do.

Objection to the trouble that we're in.

So here I wait to take a shot at you.

Enjoyment will be mine when I succeed.

No way to stop the path that we are on.

The blood will be the cleansing that we need.

Heroic moment had before I'm gone.

At last my mission ended all your pain.

Let blood be slowly washed away by rain.

Slow Old Sleepers

 I no longer fast. I'm no longer young. But, still wide awake a half hour before sunrise, I'm still as much of an insomniac as ever. That's not to say I can't ever fall asleep. That's not to say I can't ever stay asleep. Sometimes I'll sleep off and on for twelve hours, but it's usually in the daylight hours. These times of the day, when it's dark outside and the clock says a.m., have always been my periods of greatest lucidity and creativity. Songs I've crafted, websites I've built, all brain-stakingly constructed under cover of darkness in the still of the night. And here we are again, spinning yarns into the universe for you, constant reader. Over ten years since the previous time, I have found my way back again to this somehow-still-operational corner of the interwebs. I said I'd be here, and here I am. The Russians have locked me out of my LiveJournal and it looks like I'll never get back in. My last post there was 1692 days ago. Hundreds of quality transmissions still sit on that site, for as long as they decide to continue to keep them available. But, who knows? Impersonal businesses are not to be trusted. MySpace went and "accidentally" deleted all of everyone's pictures and music and who-knows-what-else. Facebook and Google have been pretty good so far about continuing to store your data for free, especially since they're making so much money off of it, but that's not likely to always be true. This is still the first time a species has ever done this.. We're still building upward and outward, but that's not to say another Dark Ages couldn't start in a hundred years or tomorrow. Maybe all the data stored all over the world could all-of-a-sudden disappear. What do you still have hard copies of? Printed words on paper, stone, or gold tablets. What's the last photograph you had printed physically? Are you satisfied with the footprints you are leaving behind, digital and otherwise? This site is here right now at least, I'm here to write, and you're here to read. I promise to be back sooner rather than later. I hope that you will too.