Falling To Pieces Alone

“A bottle of red, a bottle of white

Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight

I'll meet you anytime you want

In our Italian restaurant.” 

Billy Joel’s Scenes From An Italian Restaurant 

always starts the melancholy-the thought of you,

your favorite song you always played first at 

the poker table, memory now bleeds, you always 

called my bluff but never out of disrespect pushed this

old war horse out of the way, some warm Souls are

never worthy of another yet the drift of time and space

seem to automate this pythonic caucus between two

aberrant friends, memories now wamble of our laughter

and of our apprehensions of death, we talked about the

philosophical retrieve of our lives, the list of lost chances and

opportunities abound within the outstretched reach of mortal

confinement and I ask in silence why did you leave us? This

temporal torture clings to my conscience like some ungodly curse, 

this overture of misery affixes every thought, and the ill-fated

destiny from whence you endured, this immersion of sorrow only

leaves me when I'm asleep, thoughts are no more immortal than 

the human who reaps them, an iconism of an afterthought to relive

the aftermath is just too far off to reach, this immanent anathema 

will not dissipate, flushed with guilt always, can't undo the wrong, can't 

rewrite fate’s inglorious page, and I can never bring you back, my dearest

and greatest friend, Dwayne Hutchins. 

Lords of Lies

 The exasperated sigh upon our Savior 

who couldn’t save himself, time hulls out 

every reason and season, 

Shared Gloom

Two people clinging together like bacteria in 

a diverging cell, sixty years of experimental co-existence,  

Platitudes, Latitudes, and Attitudes

Higher altitude can’t outslip

all the mistakes, mishaps, and consequences; 

can't drift away from a lifetime of misery, 

Lingering Ghosts

 

The various purlieus and numerous trysting haunts 

loiter upon thy conscience like evaporated smoke off

an October Fall chilly morning, how fondly the memories 

return in clarity, they unfold quickly as they lodge upon

my menacing memory, some muckle with regret, many 

sally with dulcet pleasure; soulful bound to trifling mistakes, 

smothered by injustice, and overmatched by impenitent 

consequence, the overcast, and the scenery is modified in 

Hardesty’s Proverbs

 

Hardesty’s Proverbs

To err is human, but to really fuck up that requires Social Media.

-  John Hardesty

Banned by Trumpism

 Fuck Trump. He's a traitor.