Current poems in progress...

Winter, in all it's majesty, at my door
Storing summer water so that it can later soak my floor
With great sincerity it burdens the tree limbs that twist about
Makes me start to thinking of Ralphs german sauerkraut
Tranquil expanse of cooling snow blankets with calm
Rolling a paper filled cigarette with tears of calm
A bullet in the head will make a fine healing balm.
So that wintry night, I blew my bloody brains out on the white snow
And the icy winds will continue to blow and blow.

I wasn't sure, I didn't know, exactly what you'd do
I knew you'd be annoyed but then, I'm used to that now too
But, when I pause, to look around at others that I see,
I realize that I have found the other half of me.

A bullet's healing
is my last and only feeling
dug so deep inside of me
bullet-proofed no one can see