Wasteland

torrid streams of tears

changing

into vaporous steam

falling on the desert

of his heart

her begging and pleading

disregarded

as even now

with no oasis in sight

she is discarded

and breaking

on the never ending

sand dunes

of his indifferent

consideration

hers is a slow

death by starvation

in the icy-hot

shadow-less lands

of the loveless

arid desert of his soul

omg!

i wonder what the people of California
do?
how do Floridians live with
both cougars
and alligators?
how do Indians put up
with all those tigers and cobras?
and the bears in Alaska, Oh, my!
but leave it to my state
next thing will probably be
to put up a reward
and shoot it on sight,
take pictures of the carnage
and say "No telling how many lives
will have been saved.",

If the destination is not reached - let the journey be engaging.

LMD

I am permanent
in my impermanence
changeless
in my change
immortal
in my mortality
intransient
in my transience

What do I cling to
to steady
my rocking boat
where is my anchor

Is there anything
in me
that can watch the change
imbibe it
experience it
embrace it
and remain unchanged
by it

Ah! A hot day on the beach
and all the sights that we might see.
With a cold drink within easy reach
( a soda, beer, or sweet iced tea)

Man, aren't those some kind of breasts!
Not the ones in halter top
but the saggy ones on hairy chest.
When he runs, see how they flop.

And that area 'neath the belly button
which all teenagers dream about
his hangs there like a leg of mutton
or lower lip of a full pout.