In a pool of his own urine he sleeps,
homeless, scared, and lacking food or shelter.
Then along comes the law, this sight he weeps.
People turn away, all helter-skelter,
while the rest of us throw most of our scraps
away, cast long and menacing sharp glares.
For what? What does your heart see as he naps?
Your soul and heart should burn wild like flares.
Pretending he is not there, no answer,
but strife. Remember he is still a man.
Most fought to protect and came home with cancer.
Some fraud, not he, looking for an open hand
and I’ll be damned if I didn’t get involved
while you sit there…a conscious un-evolved.
(c) C.L.Swinney 2016
Most of me wanted her to go.
Take the pieces of my soul she’d crushed.
What remained were emotions I
was not prepared for, nor wanted.
The door shut loudly this time,
confirming the ink had dried and this was final.
The view from the weathered window,
brought tears, but not the sad kind.
He waited there for her, younger and
what she wanted. My hands began to ball as
the fancy car roared away.
Minutes later the feeling returned,
and a wry smile danced across my face.
The beer is colder tonight, and the pizza has
anchovies. Not because I like them, but
because she never let me. And
when my appetite returns, I may just eat one.
C. L. Swinney (c) 2015
It All Ends
Months of chores and pleading
First time fishing all alone
Slice some mackerel to use
I hear panicked urgent buzzing
Angry insect bites me, and again
Tears began to flow as I run
To find someone to help
Hand is swelling, out of breath
Topple over amidst the sirens
And lights, transport to Emergency
Hard bed, lots of tubes and
Beeping, doctors, confusion
Needle enters, things slow down
Age fourteen, “allergic” reaction
No more trips alone and
You win Mr. Yellow Jacket.