Daily Poetry Blog

I have no love for bosses
So I fired them all
And became self-employed.

Now I am free.

No need to suck up to
A sucker.
No need to lick the boots
Of the beast.

The curse has been
Broken.
Four years of freedom now.
Not one day gone wrong.

No more awful days
At work since
Being on my own.

One of the problems with being a criminal today
Is that the forensics and technology that law enforcement uses
Are more sophisticated than most people realize.

I spoke with a cop at work and he told me
He had a license plate reader built into his vehicle that
Could read hundreds of license plates per minute
And that he knew
Everywhere I had been the last three days.

I believed that he was telling the truth about the matter.
He seemed like a decent enough guy
But it still felt creepy that he knew that.

After that I
Never looked at technology
The same way.

It seemed as if all this new
Technology and surveillance equipment
Built into our phones and elsewhere
Is the best babysitter and tattle-tale
The world ever devised.

No wonder there haven’t been
As many serial killers in the news lately.
The cops know everything about you.

So if your considering being a career criminal
Don’t think you can “get away with it”.
Law enforcement is watching us
More closely than we realize.

I missed that small town Swedish vibe
When I arrived at Laguardia Airport.
That sense of not belonging in my own country
Lingered with me for several years
After I got back to the United States.

I had been overseas a bit too long
Living as an exchange student in my teens
And came home feeling lost in no-man’s-land
Neither here nor there in heart and mind.

It took awhile for the spell to wear off
That sense of not belonging.
For years I felt disoriented until
I had rediscovered myself again.

I am
A poet &
A writer
With a touch of Scandinavian spice
On an otherwise American dish.

If I could only have known that sooner.
It’s nice to come home again.

Reveries and dreams elude me
And I am left wishing to be
In the land where Morpheus resides
So he can fill me with dreams, sweet dreams

Many have mocked Morpheus
As a God unfit for the realm of the immortal
And yet my malady has brought me this wisdom:
Without his power of dreams every man, woman and child
Would be driven into delirium and madness

I Hope that one day this wisdom
Will bring him to cradle me in his arms
So that I may find myself restfully asleep
And dreaming sweet dreams in the land
Long forgotten

*This poem is inspired by my sleep disorder

I’m on Ludlow Avenue getting served
A cup of “Americano” by a gentleman
Wearing bright red lipstick

Across the room a lady is singing
“A Whole New World”
From Disney’s Aladdin

She is a bit out of tune
But that doesn’t matter
Considering that is how I like things

On the ceiling someone has scrawled
Poetry in dark black letters

Inside the restrooms are large antique
Televisions with the words
“We Used to Entertain You”
Painted onto their blank screens

The coffee shop I’m at was named
After the eccentric poet
Edith Sitwell
And it remains true to her legacy

Different and strange
It is a Midwestern gem

A magical place
Where I can write odd poetry
And almost feel normal

Why be in the top
1%
When you can be in the bottom
1%
And still be
Just as important

Money burns
Words are forever

Sat down to eat some pizza the other day
And the manager came over to say
That I look a lot like the Unabomber
And that the waitresses should be wary
Because I am a cult leader

I’m rather certain he meant it as an insult
But in fact I was rather charmed
Thinking of all the power and influence
Cult leaders wield over others
So I ate my pizza and left a rather generous
Tip to the disobedient flirtatious waitresses
That paraded around my table
In a quizzical and curious manner

Everyone likes a good puzzle
But never the ones that you can’t solve
Where there are pieces missing

When you come across
An incomplete puzzle in your life
Understand that not all puzzles
Are meant to be solved
So don’t fill in the missing pieces
With an unfettered imagination

Went to McDonalds yesterday
And a guy in a wheelchair was unable to pay
An employee asked him to leave
So I bought him an Egg McMuffin Meal
He seemed pleased enough
Wearing a big thick grin
As he quenched his hunger and thirst

I felt a sense of camaraderie
To the old man in the wheelchair
Because we were both incomplete
In different ways
Him deprived of his legs
And me deprived of a stable mind
Yet sharing the common bond
Of being survivors in a harsh world

Live and make
Your life a great work
Of art

Oh you place of wackos and weirdos
And tech bubble drones
Place of Google and Apple
And the richest companies
In the world
With your beautiful skyline
And your wondrous buildings
With your history so rich and deep
Filled with wonders
That I have never seen

Your fruits belong to this
Great land of ours
Your riches were never
Meant to be hoarded
Let the floodgates open
Tear down the barriers
Of money and exclusion
That surround your city
Make San Francisco a place
Where anyone
With dreams and ambition
Can live

Many people think
Being poor is the worst thing
That can happen to you
Because they don’t realize everything
That they can lose
They take for granted
Their health and family
Their relationships and sanity
Their religion and community
All because they are too busy
Focusing on their status
And wealth

Yesterday I read that
One in five people with Schizophrenia
Will recover from their illness
And go on to live a normal life
I’d really like to meet these people
Who fought the beast
And made it out alive

I know of only two in Cincinnati
But I am certain there are others
Statistically millions of people
In the world
Have survived Schizophrenia
And yet they remain largely
Unknown and unseen

I guess I will wander the earth
Always feeling different and alone
In this manner
Knowing that there is a part of myself
That few can understand

The government helped
Design these devices
To track our moments
And actions
And to brainwash us
Into believing its propaganda

Our “smart” phones
Know everything
About each of us
Through built in cameras
GPS tracking systems
And audio devices

The feds are watching
And are determined to maintain control
Over our lives and
The Cell Phone is the ultimate
Weapon they have

A massive computer monitoring system
Within the NSA
Knows everything
About each of us
This classified system
Tracks our search queries
Tracks our movements
Tracks our conversations
Tracks our associations
And tries to predict future behavior
Based upon computer algorithms

If you want to be truly free
From government control and influence
Then don’t trust your cell phone
Or what it tells you
To believe

Is reality something that is sold to us
In propaganda and TV commercials?
Or is it something else?
Some ticking thing inside my head that
I play with from time to time
In an attempt to make myself happy
Or to escape from this sick, sick place
Into the unreality of insanity

My imagination begins to unfold
Until I find myself
Drifting away
Far from this world
Neither here nor there
Where falsehoods thrive
And hope dies

This otherworldly land
Engulfs my existence
And I find myself
Outside of
Physics and time
Until I reach
An inferno that Dante
Was unable to imagine

Cincinnati is a community
Unfiltered by the bourgeois
Living an existence both
Decadent and delicious

Everyone from
Artistic dreamers
Gangsters
Wealthy bankers
And homeless beggars
Live here in this beautiful wave
Of unpredictable discord

Underneath the grime and dirt
Of societal mayhem
One can find a beautiful gem
That is both
Raw and real
Unedited and uncut
What America was meant to be

Raised to yearn for more than
A working class life
But the older I got
The less I cared

I’d rather write
And live an
Artist’s life
Than spend my days
With money
And no time to
Follow my dreams

The media paints a picture
Of the mentally ill like a
Bunch of
Raving mad lunatics
Unable to
Make anything of life

And yet I blend in
Among you
Undetectable because
There is no
Mark of disability
On my forehead

Modern medicine has
Granted me this ability
And I use it like a
Ninja until
…
…
Poof!
I reveal my true identity
And you run scared
And I then laugh
Because it has happened
So many times
Again and
Again
HA
HA
HA

“Get a job!”
My Dad used to tell me
And I used to get so pissed
Because I was in poor health

Well eventually
My health improved
And I decided that
I would follow his advice

So I went out and got a job
As a delivery driver
Nothing fancy but an honest job
Low stress
No boss
No coworkers
Decent pay

Every time my car
Breaks down
My Dad fixes it
Gratis
Even lent me the money
To get the car
In the first place

I drive it all the damn time
Around and around
The cripple and his car
Long hours
Night and day

Hell, Pops might even
Be a bit proud of me
Never says it
But I’m pretty sure it’s true