Poem: In the darkness of the muddy waters

Poem: My shit’s out of luck again


My shit’s out of luck yet again
As I pour down the cold Heineken down my
Poor sorry-ass throat.
The wents are turning right above the yellow light bulbs
At the local bar where I drink.
They don’t give a fuck that I am down on my luck
They don’t give a fuck either way
All they had to do is to keep spinning
Running the alcohol-infused air around.
There are TV sets all around the bar, but they
Show and tell you nothing
They are a distraction from real life.
There is loud music playing in the bar
Making the cold beer go down smoothly.
My shit’s been out of luck
My life’s been out of luck
I guess this is what it is, and everything
Is fucked.
The end of one thing is just the new beginning
The old life ends following a new one
I am down on my luck as there hasn’t been much
And I pour another beer down
I’ve been down this road before
And the present does repeat my past
I will be out of this shit in no time
I think I’ll just have to do my best.
Cheers to all of you poor shmucks
Who feel just like I do today
Remember, there will be sunshine
On our street some day.
As the wind blew the fallen leaves down the street
My six-figure salary was blown away
Just like that.

I am a happy man

I am a happy man. I know I am. Even when things don’t seem to work out to my best, I think I am a happy man. Things were rough lately, but the man isn’t always in control of everything. Things do go out of order occasionally. I stand and smile, looking at the ceiling with my tired eyes. I think this isn’t so bad. Things will get better soon. I know they will.

They say this virus is so bad; they say it is so dangerous and difficult to survive. It is out there and everywhere, and is contagious, and it kills. I am not the healthiest person, and I a vulnerable person; I am afraid of this stuff. I am never leaving my apartment. I am not going out anymore. I find my peace just sitting at home and get buried in my books. Oh, I have so many books! I love my books so much! I love my jazz collection, and I love my classical music collection, and I love to be alone. I love to be with myself and nobody else.

One time, as I opened my doors to take my trash out, and my neighbour walked out at the same time, so I ran back inside. I don’t want to talk to my neighbours. I never have before, and now, it is just too dangerous. I shall be safe and stay inside. I wore a long coat, scrubs over my shoes, a face mask, and the shield over my eyeglasses and the two sets of gloves. My eyeglasses got foggy in a minute, and I could barely see anything, but I have to protect myself. It is too dangerous out there. The virus kills.

I don’t have any friends, and I am not looking to meet any. Not in these crazy times. They say it is so dangerous to be amongst the people. People should stay apart and away from one another. I like that. I never wanted to be amongst other people; I never mixed with them. I have always been an outsider and a loner, and I liked it like that. I don’t need anybody else in my life. I need myself and my books and my jazz music collection. I remember how I always been frustrated with meetings and conversing with other people at the office. Oh, my God. I always wanted to escape and to avoid any contact with anybody. They always talk to me about their lives, their dogs and cats, and kids, and all their problems. How great it is that we all have to work from home and don’t talk or be around one another. I have nothing to talk about with anybody. I don’t want to. My life is quiet. I am different. I am a happy man when I’m alone.

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Poem: Everything will pass

Everything will pass,
Everything will go away,
Someday.
Nothing will be the same,
Nobody’s still the same.
These long and useless days,
These short and pointless nights
This everything will pass.
Everything will become the past, at last.
This line above is now the past.
This poem also is the past.
The dark and the light will pass,
The birds, the trees, the grass,
The sea, the trees, the smile and tears
Will pass.
The youth, the health, the passion,
The shame, and sorrow, the hangover
Will also pass, at last.
The future, the present, even the past
Will pass.
Time will tell, time will heal, time will pass.
The struggle, the passion, the good and the bad,
It all will pass someday.
Nothing is here to stay,
Nothing is the same.
I am never the same
As my life is never the same,
As my troubles are never the same.
Who gets to leave? Who gets to stay?
These questions will remain.
Just wait, just wait, my friend, awhile.
Look at the sky and smile.
I hope the sky will stay.
I hope the sky will never go away.