Oh Trailer Park!

Oh trailer park! Oh home on wheels
Ne'er we'll roll again
This rented soil, my sewage disposal
This hose, this monthly fee

Oh mobile home, I've set your engine free
Let it go and run the canyons
With the engines, engines never enslaved
And I am free, enslaving none.

I speak, I speak well
My neighbors cannot tell
I may have been a futures trader
A fancy waiter at a fine steak house

And one wall I'll stock with books
And one I'll stock with cans
And one I'll stock with you
A wedding ring and memories
A picture that you sent
Your child and new husband
The house and fence you tend.

You'll be unyielding, photograph,
Time will take no toll
And only I and my regrets
Will move on getting old.

Oh trailer park, how did you make
Me join myself to you?
And one day when my options vest
I'll buy a house of stone
A piece of land to keep myself
A plot mine own mine own.

Country Buffet Trip Two

These flowers grow in the shape of a man
He must have been quite nourishing
Perhaps well nourished himself
I imagine him portly but with ruddy cheeks
A joy at the Holidays, with compliments
For the cook, a peck on the cheek
He was himself a well marbled steak
Had his house caught fire, slowly
He would have made a fine jerky
But no he fell here in the field
It's hard to tell just why he fell
Perhaps his heart gave out
Perhaps his spleen
It might have been old age
Or old aged cheddar
Whatever the case, not even bones remain
I think a fortnight ago I spied
A shrunken figure carrying off sticks
For some paltry fire I had pictured
But bones they might have been
Ground into a meal to feed other portly men
To make more flower beds
In the shape of well fed men.

Old Man, Who No Longer Shits

What maketh spring is it not the light pooled in your eyes
That makes my fondness grow - I have seen you
A huddled shadow in an alleyway, looking back on shadows
Casting yourself on the ground to be trampled under foot
Like light and shadow often go unseen
As the unsurrendered unengaged go about their business
But each footfall crests, darkness where it strikes
Your footsteps have set me stricken, ill down to the core
My lungs an empty charred house collapsing with each breath
This metal bottle that supplies me with each breath
This mask clear plastic clouded and unclear
With the moisture of the breath that escapes
...My breath escapes...
My dry and hollowed form
And yes I've said I'm fond of you
It's the commonweal of shadows that has guided us
Each to each like lepers to a colony
Will you tend my colostomy -
Bag? Will you move my withered legs
In a puppet show of youth and health
An oldmost dead man sprinting in his chair
Sprinting away from resolution
I lived my prime in an age where cartoon men
Smoked peaceful rings into cartoon air
Yes, simpler times, to forget the Great Death
When there were no heralds crying victory
Only "it is over".