Give it to me
Father some health
Because I just don't
Have any more good health
Also Father
I am a little old now
And I also suffer
From depression
For a long time now
Also Father
It is hard for me to live
With depression my
Father
I must tell you
That also I take some narcotics
For my depression
Every single day
Night and morning
I never skip a dose of
Narcotics
Give it to me
A good night's sleep
Every single night
AIso Father I never wake up
During the middle of the
Night
I sleep all the way through

A lily -white age once
blossomed and bloomed
in rose garden beds
but time’s toxic hand
sunk a withered root

I owe It all to you
My Father
I am happy that
You created me
With you holy hands
Many years ago
And placed me here
On earth to live
With my siblings
Also your young children
Are now youth
They already lived their teenager
Lives many years ago
Siblings I am your older
Brother
I am going to die
Before you
And I know that you are
Going to miss me
Because I will be in heaven
Living my new life
And I also will be resting
In Peace

please oh lord brace and fix me with monetary salvation

After umpteen times being swindled
reducing me to abject poverty
psyche of mine
broke into a bajillion little pieces
much like Humpty Dumpty
grim outlook spells
forlorn and foregone conclusion,
thus I beseech
all knowing omniscient creator
to rescue me
from the pitfalls of eternal damnation,
where pendulum wildly swings
in one direction of doom
sabotaging sanity and solvency
wreaking havoc analogous
to kamikaze missionaries
intent on suicide missions

Sunshine galore gleaming in glorious swathes in all manner of ecosystems.
Summer in its element with all its periodic fickleness, fluctuations and abrupt metamorphosis,is  nonetheless  the friend the relation of those who yearn for relief and rejuvenation from the winter's quite frequent  glacial ice and snow onslaught.
The horrid flurries strafed by grit and mud crushed chippings.
The quivers and shivers of fireside imposed reclusiveness a reprieve by comparison.
Even spark guards might seem to those who hallucinate a bulwark.
But then

Eyes spiraling into despair
You stare at me from the corner of my room

An empty box of baby powder and an all-in-one
TV/radio/cassette player
Your only companions.
Functions with no use
Much like you.

Your teeth filmy and loose with dust and time
Weave promises of youth and childhood returned
In which your reel trailed off endlessly into
California dreams, and ephemeral Florida days
Immortalized in Polaroids since faded and lost.

Just please reunite me with my lost love, you beg
With ribbon now worn and warped.

Queria viver
In the world
That my Father made
For us to live
In it feeling blessed
Every single day
AIso, we are happy
That our Father
Made the beautiful world
With his holy hands
For us to live in it
And after our Father
Made us
With his holy hands
He had placed us
In his world
We don't live alone
In my Father's world
We have friends
That is also living in
My Father's world
AIso, he made the four season's
For us to live in it
Now we are living
In the Winter
This is the season we just
Hate the most

What I remember
is lying on the wet grass,
the grass tickling my ears,
and a boy with a razor sharp crew cut
and an ugly smile
leveling his fists on my face
until my Grandma came out
and yanked him off me.

I staggered up, the battered
boxer, ears ringing, my Grandma
dabbing my face with a dish towel,
while the neighborhood kids called the fight
a technical draw.