So I will shinobinaku.
I look away and answer you
“No, I'm just fine. Tired, I guess.”
Holding my breath I wait, suppress
The waterfall behind my eyes
I cover leaks with easy lies,
“I chopped an onion.” “Allergies.”
“My eyes just water when I sneeze.”
“I have a cold.” “I got some dirt
Inside my eyes.” Not “I am hurt-”
“I am lonely-” “I am scared-”
“I am lost and unprepared-”
“I am depressed-” “I'm so tired-”
I am just such a good liar
When it comes to how I feel.

if a 2024 November presidential Biden win
pandemonium likely to occur,
subsequently figurative tectonic upheaval
might set United States in a tailspin.

We drive past the place
where she first said I love you.
Perched on a cliff by the sea.

The location has been closed
for a few years now,
but not in my reflections.
As we drive by, I take her hand
while drifting back to that day.

She smiles at me just then,
as the waves break with commotion
on the shore, and joins me here
in a memory I’ve saved
for all our tomorrows.

Uncertain if my one man pep rally appeals to thee most amazing, daring, grueling... youngest aspirant to restore Earth in the balance predicated upon uncomfortable truth. The old geezer here would be over the moon if ye desired, and received majority votes to usher desperate legislation to mitigate dire planetary dilemma, thus whim what might seem far fetched brainstorm, could help aright (with leftist support) precariously perched world. Methinks ye would be dynamic force to implement apropos measures.

Vice President Elect Alexandria Ocasio Cortez - 2024

She danced for her friend the moon
most nights. And occasionally during the day,
when its appearance couldn't be subdued.

Sometimes she wished all of her friends
could be here with her. All of them
had spent time under the same moonlight.

The same light knew them all
and shared this connection with her,
inspiring joy in the spectacle of her performances,
rewarding her companion of the night.

Ah... nothing more enjoyable
than acidic gastric fluid (bile)
flowing backward into esophagus,
resulting in heartburn, meanwhile
disrupting pleasant dreams,
which phenomena also known as
gastroesophageal reflux (GER)
found me discombobulated
and swiftly tailored into harried style.

Dear Heart, you bear a silent ache,
A background throb that will not break
The dam that quells your flood of tears
From pains built over years and years
Dear heart, what pain will loose the flood
Of salty torrents, hot as blood
Form deeper wounds than hearts can stand?
Dear heart, you do not understand
That tho the pain may be released
And floods cause momentary peace
This does not mean the pain will cease.
You must dive in and brace the storm
To find the source of all your harm

consumed later at night than usual
finds me bright eyed and bushy tailed
amply lively to learn
about an American radio
and television personality and pioneer
Wee Willy Weber,
who prominently and popularly reigned
across air waves and small screen
kept in the living/family room
then an obscure square box
frequently exhibiting local entertainers

Endings
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

Endings
Written by Kelly Ann Wilson

I was the kid who never read the last chapter
Of my favourite books
Or watched the final episode
Of my favourite shows.

I wanted to stay in a time and place
Where there was still more to the story.
I never wanted them to end.

I could never accept
That life is full of endings,
So, I grew up
With the consequences of that.

I stay in the same place too long.
I hold onto people for too long.

Our little fella, with his prancing gait,
trots down the hall. His feet sounding
a slap, slap, slap on the carpet
he was chewing on a moment ago.

He looks up at me with all the cuteness
the universe could possibly bestow on him
with a brief and curious look – ears at attention!