patch work

Slim Jim's, donuts, cakes and pies
Extra-Thick chocolate milk shakes, burgers and fries,
they scream conjuring twisted lullabies.
My ears covered I can still hear their cries.
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If I could be anyone I wanted to be,
I'd choose Elly Mae Clampet living in Beverly.
I can have all the critters I want and play all day long,
until it's suppertime and Paw sings me a song.
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I haven't done the research,
because the truth has two sides,
it's just that I could give a rats azz
I know enough to remain blind.
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I'll be waiting near the cedars lined in formation like soldiers graves
or a high school band marching in Macys Thanksgiving Day Parade.
I've been waiting for what seems to be eternity thinking could this be he
but it's a mirage, hopeless fantasies, or just another silly romantic dream.
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I think I can speak for most women,
we're really not hard to figure out.
There are a few simple needs
that we cannot do without.
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At times my life seems blurry and bleak
and thoughts of surrender to death I may seek,
then out of the blue an angel appears,
visions of love, serenity and bliss are clear.
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I try and fight you over and over again,
but we both know in this game, I can't win.
I always HOPE for a better outcome,
though I must concede loss, I fold, I'm done!
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I'm fixn' to lay down to sleep and
can hardly wait to see you in my dreams.
In this realm of my reality,
your as real as real can be.
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I've never claimed to be anything more,
nary a poet nor poem connoisseur.
I just like to have fun with words that rhyme,
innocently scribbling verbage line after line.
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My Grandma's Catholic, as devout as one can be,
and told me St. Joseph can sell my house for me.
It's 120 years old and falling to the ground,
and sits 50 feet from train tracks in the heart of town.
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Accepting distance my eternal sentence,
cursed life of loneliness and betrayal.
The bittersweet solitude where I'm free to fly and fall.
The joy of hope, creating fun to camouflage sorrow
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When I feel the urge to purge words,
first thoughts are of gloom, doom and cynicism.
Then like Christmas Lights to a child's eye comes the synergism.
So I'll expose my flaws and ask Santa Claus,
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Don't pretend you know me
you haven't the faintest clue.
Where were you when I suffer
with pain, fear and the blues?
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Don't go gettn' the 'Big Head',
I do this all the time.
Something pops in my mind
and I put it into rhyme.
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