When granny passed over last Wednesday
It was something we never foresaw
She seemed to be so fit and healthy
But then came the knock on the door

The policeman was standing there solemn
He wasn’t sure what he should say
Then all of a sudden he blurted
“It’s granny, she’s just past away”

She’d been to the pensioners social
She was dancing and knocking back gin
The silly old girl gave a bit of a twirl
When her heart, it just stopped, it gave in

I sent her across the river
she entered a cloud
she followed me with Keane eyes
she is everywhere I am not
this woman I longed to be

walking
parallel paths

we meet each other on occasion
lifting each other from our muddy feet
we carry ourselves
with the burden of being

rivers of silence
rivers of sorrow
flowing into the great ocean
of bliss

a lotus blossoms
petals fall
and the sky breathes us.

Religion’s Failings

Relics relying on rhetorical ruses
THAT
Enslave elenchus elements
INTO
Living lateral lies
ABOUT
Insidious idols
GIVING
Glorification in gratuitous
TO
Intermodal internment
THEN
Oscillating oracular orders
RELEASE
Nudnik nonentities
CREATING
Slaphappy slanderers

My Problem With Online Poetry

when, or if, anyone actually reads this
know the reason i reach out is plain and simple-

attention

this isn’t the problem though.
i thirst for critics praise
or scrutiny evenly-
a bratty child screaming in public
feeling victory in the face of
the mad mommy-
not because i wish to be canonized
or shot down,
but simply to feel i have reached
another person,
even if it’s someone i’ll never know