Addicted

You’re in my veins. 
You‘re in my blood.
You’re in my soul. 
You are my drug.
You’re in my head. 
You’re under my skin.
Don’t remember 
letting you in. 
Now you’re here, 
really good stuff, 
in my life 
can’t get enough.
I need your kiss
I crave your touch
Will I overdose 
if I get too much? 
You’ve got me hooked 
you are my vice 
I’m addicted now 
so, name your price

Insomniac

Three-ten
I’m up again 
haven’t slept since 
who knows when? 
grab a snack 
insomniac 
not hungry 
so I put it back 
to the sink 
get a drink 
try to drown 
the thoughts I think 
write them down 
move words around 
try to find 
the perfect noun 
the right verb 
for this blurb 
jot it down 
do not disturb 
so it makes sense
not too intense 
if it’s immense 
I must condense 
change a word 
to one preferred 
so the meaning 
is not absurd 
and the idea 
isn’t blurred
and the message 
still gets heard 
ramble on 
long enough 
‘til the rhyming 
gets too tough 
or you just 
run out of stuff 
and you’re spewing 
off the cuff
thinking about 
the things I said 
all the times 
that I’ve reread 
words I could have 
used instead 
bored enough 
to go to bed

Caterpillar

nothing there that I can see 
to show what you’ll turn out to be 
not a hint, not a clue 
of what you’re going to turn into
what the future will affirm 
for this fuzzy, chubby worm 
when it finally comes to term
only then can we confirm 
spend some time in seclusion 
to complete your grand illusion 
after you have shed a skin 
reveal the loveliness within

Textile Mill

the doors were chained, all the workers contained
so that no one could take a break 
with immigrant dreams they worked noisy machines 
‘til their hands and their fingers would ache

in the dark, sweaty shop women working nonstop
while the foreman was keeping the score 
they worked without cease and were paid by the piece
while the watchman kept walking the floor

some thought it a joke that the foreman would smoke
while the women worked noisy machines 
so no one could tell when they started to yell , 
“there is smoke wafting up to the beams”

starting to shout, “Hey, we gotta get out” 
the watchman ran back for the keys 
but they think he got burned ‘cuz he never returned 
as the smoke brought them all to their knees 

they crawled to the door across the oil stained floor 
they pulled and they tugged on the chain
some ran out of breath others jumped to their death 
and they all screamed and hollered in vain

when the bodies were found and laid out on the ground 
one-hundred and five people died 
a few did survive but were barely alive 
while the rest were found stacked up inside

the foreman falling asleep was a secret to keep 
the owners began to conspire
as they buried the dead all the newspapers said 
oily rags may have started the fire

with no time to waste the machines were replaced
 insurance to cover the bill 
 money to earn was the owners concern
and a hundred and five jobs to fill

Nursing Home Revisited

they put me in this strange new home 
no longer can I live alone 
windows with unfamiliar views 
and clearly these are not my shoes

my name is written on my clothes
so anyone who sees them knows 
my underwear I will not lose 
but clearly these are not my shoes 

no decisions will I make today 
my options all taken away 
except for which dessert to choose 
I tell you these are not my shoes

they threw my handkerchiefs away 
a biohazard so they say 
I read about it in the news 
damn it, these are not my shoes

Social Security pays my bills 
nurses now control my pills 
so medicine I won’t abuse
these are not my fuckin’ shoes

Persistence

I tell her she is beautiful 
she doesn’t want to hear it 
and she has a lovely body 
but she doesn’t let me near it
I let her know she’s sexy 
with continuous insistence 
keep hoping that eventually 
I’ll wear down her resistance 
always tell her that I love her 
she puts up with my persistence 
and she says perhaps she loves me too 
but only from a distance