ULTIMATELY

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

When I start to thinking about it
I say to myself what was wrong
With that one?
And what was wrong
With that one?
And so on down the line
Covering all the ones I
Ultimately
Found something wrong with
And then I think about
What was good
And there was always something good
And often there was a lot that was good but
Ultimately
There had to be something
that was bad
That trumped all the good, otherwise
DUH
I'd still be with that one
But often I don't recall just what it was...

And then I start to wonder if any of those who
Ultimately
Found more that was bad about me than good
Ever run through the same checklist
In their heads
Asking what was wrong with him?
Ya know
Cuz there WAS a lot of good
(At least for a while)) but
Ultimately
There had to be
Enough bad to trump all the good

But

Why do I get the feeling that THEY
Sit there shaking their heads saying,
OH SHIT--how could I forget about THAT???

And 

Gee, I wonder whatever happened
to that A-HOLE anyway!

DEEP THOUGHT # 42

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads

Women complain
that their men
don't talk to them
but wise men understand
that the more you say
the likelier it is
you'll find yourself
eating your words
for breakfast 

ANOTHER POEM

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

It was a dark and horny night
dirty diapers and the Doppler effect
were in the air

Damaged child
with his Tinker Toys
don't make any noise
fighting the storm of surprise
under the guise
of normalcy

Who have you been
for lo these many lives
and how many people
are crying quietly inside you?

He heard a dog panting
felt its hot turd breath
on the back of his neck
the dog proffered his paw
and introduced himself

All relationships
involve sacrifice
and just as Paul Simon
has surely suffered for his Art
we look at the world
and discern discordant landscapes
a woman's mountain
a man's molehill
If only I could remember
your memories
but I'm stuck with my own

Diplomacy 
on an international scale
is what's required
we'll send Olive Oyl
with an olive branch
and if that doesn't work
we'll send Popeye
to sock you in the eye

We've trained with the best
we've paid our dues
or you would not see the stellar
lip-syncher who stands before you today

Back off boogaloo
I've got no use
for pretentious retorts
you're certified crazy and
there's some kind of shit
some kind of madness
in the way you've chosen
to live in this world

Blue smoke
echoes of ourselves
reverberating through time
I'm setting off for someplace
east of the sun
and west of Rangoon

And I don't owe this silly world a thing
but maybe another poem