A Poem for Jolene, Who was Sad and then Left

What did he expect,

When he tied her identity to bad luck for weather?

Always together, but never

Absorbing such details as quiet laughter

That slipped through the cracks of thunder,

Out from under clouds keeping busy by

Disguising her smile, I wonder,

If he ever stopped to ponder

Why she never invested in an umbrella,

Where are your rain boots, Cinderella?

Suggesting her sunshine was never

Out of the question, and every day

She stepped out to wet socks

And shivered in short sleeves to say

She had hope, that by night

There might be a clear sky.

People Are Hurting, Read the Fucking Flyer

                                           There’s a little bird

                                 On a manmade perch

                         And he’s looking down at you.

                You’re so fine, your cheekbones

                          Rise high as he flies, he knows

                                   Sometime you’ll die,

                           Then your bones become dirt

                             And your dirt intertwines

                          Mixed so fine with a little bird,

                   Waiting in line, the worms dine,

                            And they squirm under boots

                     As you stride, head held high,

         Dust the dirt from your button down shirt,

                     There’s blue sky in your eyes

                                  But on earth there is hurt

                       And you’re walking right by

                               And you’re kicking up dirt

                                  It is filling your boots

                                         It is choking the sky

              And the worms don’t take notice,

                                 To them you’re sky high,

                      So you cough and you curse

                               But you don’t see the hurt,

                                          Just a little bird

                                      On a manmade perch

                 And he’s looking down on you.