2020: The Great Equalizer

I have almost 0 dollars in
My bank account
Right now,

But so does
Almost everyone else
I know.

Capitalism and Covid
Have finally brought
Equality to America,

In the form of poverty.

Now that most of
Us are equally broke,
We can concentrate
On other
More important things,

Like learning how to
Cook cheap Pasta,

Grow our own
Vegetables

And master our
Survival skills.

Common mistakes

Real love is a bond
That is shared between two
People and not
A singular emotion
Emitted towards an
Unwilling participant
To please the
Ego.

Wasabi Peas

There is no better food
Suited for a pandemic than
Wasabi Peas.

They cost only 1 dollar
At Dollar Tree.

They taste rather strange
And their spice is just right,
A whole bag of them
Will fill you up for
Hours and make you
Feel rather nice.

Eat them daily
To become
Quiet a sight.
These little balls of wonder,
Are the poor man’s
Delicious Delight.

Healthy and filling
A dieters dream come true
Look like the Hulk
And save money too.

Wasabi Peas,
Won’t burn a hole
In your pocket,
But will turn you
Into stud.

Wasabi Peas
The little green
Vegetable that will
Make your lady
Swoon.

Wasabi Peas
Good for me
Good for you.

The Difficult Road

It’s mesmerizing
How far I’ve come with
My recovery since
My first psychotic break
Twenty years ago.

I remember the sickness
And unimaginable pain
That brought
Tears to my eyes.

I remember praying to
God to show me
A path out.

I remember losing everything

Friends,
Home,
Money,
Job,
Health,
Sanity.

I remember thinking that no
Human being could endure
Such torture
For long.

I remember every delusional thought
Feeling like an arrow
In my heart.

I remember the pain I brought
To the people I loved
And who tried to help me.

I remember my paranoia
Guiding my actions.

I remember all of it,

And like a hardened veteran
Who underwent a war
Within the mind,

Sometimes
Wish that I could
Forget.

The Drunkard

Watching America collapse
From self-inflicted wounds
Reminds me of
My alcoholic days,

When I intoxicated myself
Everyday with
Alcohol and
Self pity,

And I should have
Been trying to give a damn
About my health.

Talk Therapy

I used to waste my time
And money
Whining to
Professionals,

Until I discovered
That writing, working and
Accepting who I was,
Is more important
Than what some of these
Knuckleheads thought.

Don’t get me wrong,
Psychiatrists have helped me
Medication has helped me
Exercise has helped me
Many things have helped
But that “talk therapy” crap
Is for the birds.

Sixteen Percent

It’s hard to panic during a
Pandemic
After you’ve survived a
Catastrophic illness
Like Schizophrenia.

It would be a cruel
Act of God if I were
To die from the Covid-19,

Given that
The recovery rate for
Schizophrenia is
About 1 in 6.

However I have found
It difficult to watch
The world burn

While it struggles
With the concept
Of its own mortality.

 

The New America

I still love America these days
Even if its in a post-apocalyptic
Way.

I still love the air
I breathe here
Even if its filled with toxicity and
Sickness and death.

I still love the
Nature of America and
Its many great landmarks and
Parks that still dwell
Untouched by the pandemic.

I still love the people here;
The mobsters, the free spirits
The hoodlums and pranksters
The art creators and other
Eccentric types
That make up
This great country of ours.

I still love its many great cities
And its diverse population
Where every form of life
Can still be found,
Even if they now live in fear.

And
I still love this country
Because I know
That someday
It will learn
From its many
Recent mistakes
And transgressions,

And become something
Better and greater than
It was before,

But first it will need to
Hurt.

Really bad.

Which is where we
Are now at now…