The Widow

A mourning young widow sits alone

Ignoring all calls to her phone

She can’t confide

Since her husband died

And she won’t throw the jackals a bone

Her husband had been young, sweet, and rich

Whose ex-wife was a conniving bitch

She held on for years

With wine and fake tears

Then she killed him and dumped him in a ditch

At least the orange jumpsuit made her fat

But the widow wanted her alone with a bat

The ex didn’t care

When the widow screamed “Beware!”

And called her a nasty old rat

The widow is downing some whiskey

In college, it made her feel frisky

Now she just cried

Wished she could hide

She had no idea what to do with his key

The doctors had prescribed her some pills

And said “If you take too many it kills”

But he had her heart

And a head start

So she downed the whole bottle with chills

The Truth

I dream empty dreams

And

Speak empty words

Each thing I

Say is supposed to be

The truth

But

I’m only scratching

At a surface of

Some intangible

Space. I talk and talk

And talk

Each word burning

From my throat. I’m lost

In this wild sea and

Reach for some

Way I can latch onto that

Safe and sure way

But each

Stroke drags me

Deeper to the

Bottom. I’m stuck

Swallowing

The bitter salt. Hoping

For death with no real strength

Everything I’ve ever said

Sounds like the words

Of  a bigger better man

Is this what it means

To belong

To some higher consciousness?

I’m stuck

Scratching

At the posts hoping

For some flash of

Brilliancy beauty truth

Instead I’ve found

Piles of useless shit

Stuck to my heels

Some transcendental

Soul

Has seen and scoffed

At my pitiful attempts

To write some peace into

My life