To a Friend, Unhappy with Herself

If I were you, I’d think twice about being 

Something other than you are. 

Unhappy with your present lot, 

You might be thinking of being 

A perennial flower or even a queen bee, 

Or something even more farfetched, 

Whatever that may be. 

But let’s get serious— 

We know all that’s impossible. 

So why not be yourself 

And make everything possible. 

A Plague on You, Shylock

Wishful thinking Rosy 
Rat gut package twine of course
There’s no such thing but 
Metaphorically speaking if
Bill hadn’t let the cat out of the bag 
Back in the Globe we could all be
Tying rings round parcels 
Of fat cat operators

With no strings attached, 
Sending them all packing.

Visionary

What is it with you? 

You want everything under the heavens

Even when nothing’s in view. 

Vitriol: The Plutocrat's Payback

My dearest Lady Jane, 

We know it’s a shame and rotten 
But really, there’s no need to explain the obvious 

Farewell of your well-off infamous snotty 

Obnoxious proboscis—you see, we’ve heard 

Rumors of a vicious tumor and it’s plain

As that snippet of a snub gracing your face, 

Making you now look so innocuous. 

But still we wonder 

Is this really you? If you could 

Just give us a clue, pretty 

Please with sugar on it— 

For old times’ sake, 

Before you depart 

Give us your best parting shot— 

No need for formalities, dearie 

Dispense with the snot.

One Possible Remedy for What Ails Us

Invigorating 

Scent of wild spear-

Mint meant to pierce 

The heart of all 

That has turned 

Tamed and docile 

And has stopped 

Making sense.

Mirror on Wall Street

Go on— 

Satisfy the mob 

Mentality, keep good 

Looking at yourself 

Through a glass 

Eye darkly. 

Evening, towards Night

In this mean neighborhood, 

Under the light cast by 

The streetlight opposite 

The derelict house, a lone 

White horse shining, a lamp 

In a vacant lot.