Missing Crux Oxymoron

In lieu of a haiku: 

Of course you do not know 
You’re lacking in something— 
Something is stopping you. 

Poetry: The Last Frontier

Situated in some nebulous distance, 
I do what I do so that the universal balance 
Of which I am a part may remain a balance. 
--Antonio Porchia, “Voices” 

In the blooming Judas tree above 
My head, the spaced-out

Enterprising bees go 
Deliriously about

Their going concern business 
Doing exactly you-know-what— 

In a nebulous universe, so am I 
Doing clearly God knows what. 

It's A Dog's Life Until You Lose It

Beats me but coming 
After a hard day’s scrounging 
For scraps, I’d wager 

Those two dead- 
Tired, bedraggled 
Strays that spend 

Their nights curled 
Up on threadbare welcome 
Mats on opposite sides 

Of the main drag—one 
In front of the bakery 
And the other 

In front of the laundry— 
Most likely imagine that 
As long as they can 

Sleep and dream 
Of warm doghouses 
And doggy food galore, 

There will always be 
The prospect of waking 
Up one fine morning still

Very much alive, yet for some 
Strange reason always 
Wanting more. 

Huuklyeand Cinquor On Finding One's Way To The Domicile Of The Perfect Poem

Poets, I dare say 
Enough is enough, please 
Gather all your senses together— 

You just passed 
The sign 
That said No 
Trespassing— 

The next one says 
No Exit. 

Moderator’s comments: Hopeless perfectionist par excellence that Huuk is, 
no wonder it took him so long to check back in here. 

Douma, Syria: No Barrel Of Laughs

Yes, indeed 
That ghastly 
Still of a man 

Wearing a gas- 
Mask does look some- 
What grotesque as he 

Holds the body 
Of a gassed child, 
But hold on—just what 

Did you expect 
To see—a bunch 
Of debased home- 

Grown couch potatoes 
Foaming at the mouth 
At the prospect 

Of strange riffraff suffocating 
In faraway basements? 
Change channels.