Author: kenn

The baby’s out with the bath water
The recorder’s set to resume
All is fair in love and war
While the loving ends too soon

Misery loves company
While euphoria sleeps alone
Love is in air they say
But gravity brings that love home

I fall to pieces
And those pieces bring me peace
For it is the mars that have made me
Lately I’m not losing too much sleep

Requiem for heartbreak
Penance for taking a chance
Celebration for starting over
Yet broken from trusting again

‘Never’ means whenever
And ‘forever’ means to wait
‘Whatever’ is uncaring
‘I loved her’ seals my fate

Horsemen and the king’s men
Mathematicians and a muse
Couldn’t repair the jigsaw
Couldn’t reconnect the fuse

What’s this obsession with falling?
Who will bear my pall?
Don’t you have a fear of flying?
And what will break your fall?

Let the chips fall where they may
While the room and roof caves in
Pride usually falls soon after
Fall afoul, fall over, fall in

Heels are over head now
Idle hands are in the shop
Blood need a coagulant
And this falling has to stop

Love is in the air again
No wonder she don’t call
Leaves are in the wind again
I’ve always loved the Fall.

kenn.

Tentacles and tantalizing thoughts of dread and doom
Tension mounts as Insomnia simply stalks into my room
Tethered to the bedpost, dare I peer over the edge?
If I close my eyes and talk loud will that make the monsters dead?

“Don’t make me come in there. Rest your overactive imagination.
There are no monsters under the bed looking gross and gesticulating”
My matriarch companion may have prayed peace upon my head
But as an adult I do insist there may be monsters under my bed

Somnolent visions post a restless camp and far too sleepless night
Am I paranoid delusional having given entirely to fright?
It seems that no one else can see them and my report is some grand prose
Reminding me of a childhood story and the emperor with no clothes

No clothes or grandiose pose, the politicians’ skilled and scheming
Peace is on the exchange table while our soldiers are somewhere bleeding
Brokers assess the capital gains and tax to manifest balance
Can’t pull the curtains to hide my shame when all that adorns is a valance

Mr. President or Mrs. President or God-Who-You-Sent, please make it right this time
Not expecting much, just returns and such and maybe a reduction in crime
And homelessness? Who availed this mess? Are we so much better than?
Odious that large populations of those derelicts are our discarded veterans

Still tense at night for remains my plight there’s no one on the phone
It rings and sings and in silence tings yet still I sleep alone
But someday or one day or never or Sunday my queen will come to fight
These monsters that lurk to a melancholy track and come to visit me at night

Receptacles and disturbed repose amidst the mark of eight
Retracting heads and retching sounds from where beasts congregate
Maybe if I hold my breath and sit so very still so
I’m not here and they’re not there… then maybe they’re under my pillow.

kenn.