Talking Fish

Out of water
out of water!
I need some water damnit!
I'm the fish who
can't stand the water
the fish out of water.

Sorry, overused,
misused,
too used
to it. Truth is,
I'm just like anyone
else, and am proud
for the ways that
I'm not.

I Think I May Have a Problem (The Peo-ple Piece)

I think I may have
a problem. I don't like
stupid peo-ple
rude peo-ple
inconsiderate peo-ple
and any combination
of the above. I sometimes
hit a few of these notes
myself. I know I do.
But I think I learn
when I do. And I'm not
convinced that
everyone does. I once
said I was cursed with
self-awareness, and
never knew dignity,
well now I know these
to be true, above all else.
I convince myself,
I celebrate myself,
of all the faults in others.
To make myself better?
Amd what would happen
if everyone were
afflicted with my disease?
Would I finally learn
that it is terminal?
Or that, once and for all,
that all life is, and that's
what we're constantly running
away from, that
terrible knowledge? What do
we know, really? We know
that we die. We spend
our time opting to
postpone it. That's what
life is about, biding our time,
seeing how we can amuse ourselves.

Is this not pessimism? No,
it is not. It is realism, and the
reality is, everyone who
has never commented on this
has been among those who
say this life is too short.
Nonsense, I say, neither is life
too long nor too short. It is
exactly what it is and what it
always has been and always will
be, the being of it. The thoughts
we either voice, or think,
or simply block out, either because
we want to or have never
developed a means to create.
We are, indeed, pitifull creatures,
for the knowledge of what we are,
or for the wisdom few possess to
know. Tell me how it is gained.
I believe it is by accident,
and those who are the clumsiest,
we are the most miserable, because
accidents are exactly that. You can't
just make them happen.

All Day Long You'll Find a Penny

Finding fallen coins
is something, and has
been, of a hobby for me,
to carry on without
a lot of fuss and care
for how much, so much
as I carry on with it,
because it seems
someone has to, so
many fallen coins
are there to find, perhaps
as may these days as
I remember there
being when I started.
So many, and so little
to think about, just
a little care to take
care of the carelessness
of others, who don't think
these fallen coins mean
anything. In most senses,
they don't mean much more
to me, just a rambling collection
in a jar I asked to keep
from some stranger along
the way. I mostly care after
quarters, dimes amuse me,
and nickles, for perhaps for
the first time, don't annoy me.
It's the pennies, though, that
appear most frequently,
I find a penny and sometimes
pick it up, and maybe, as a
reward, all day long I'll
have good luck. Other times,
I walk right by, and then others
still, chuck it into some hole. Not
for luck, like some penny well,
just because. Recently I've developed
good aim.

O Will Journal

Times, o the times are
what they want to be,
their mysterious ways
and their endless maladies
and treatments along the way.
The times, o the times
are what they want to be,
and damned if I can
make them any other way.
I can try.