The Prudish Cat

 

To admire a cat, one must live with one, 

this crazy cat broods to warm himself like

a teapot on a stovetop, 

There’s No Equal Exchange

 

Don't barter your lifetime on faith, 

there are no equal exchanges or promises.

Don't gamble that'll you ever see again your

mother, father, family, and little dog after death.

Life’s a living gamble and every day is another day in

purgatorial wasteland, gray isn't close to black and black

is far away from gray but in between is the living

Hell, the pell-mell of suffering and the laurel of

unforgiveness collars monism, for time’s transient as

snowbrowth upon a basking rooftop. Take care of all

that you’ve loved, hold dear to those terminal memories, 

for the sheen of wonder soon elides from your conscience, 

snarling curses and cunning manifestations now exile this 

wretched fate, for my life’s ijazah worth, is but dust upon

Proverbs, seldom spoken their magical spells, only darkness

enters my hollow heart, the only light that vacates was the memory 

of my dog, yet, tucked away, far away from this hostile misery

is my degraded faith, I'll never be swayed by myths or promises

of immortality, such foolishness in pretending, such sedentary 

gambles, for nothing, rises beyond death but the living people 

who huddled around your grave. 

Alone

No sunlight enters the window

or upon my soul today though a squinting 

glare fights to intrude above the lambrequin; 

fond memories conjure the good from the bad 

and untangle the ignominious and ill-fated 

aspirations from relinquished dreams, now, 

this constant dredge and braying of torture 

hold me and suppress me to the point of 

no return to normality, the night steals 

every conjured dream with wanton worry, death 

won't forgive those who humble the ghosts and my 

friends seek sanctuary in fables, yet, I just want 

refuge from this leaseholder of souls, supine thoughts 

stream through this drollery of tragedy, this journal 

ends soon. 

Hardesty Proverbs -Smart

 Hardesty Proverbs 

If you're the smartest person in the room, you're in someone’s closet. 

- John Hardesty

Misery

 

Misery loves company, and three’s a crowded fire on a matchstick.

Death Alarms

The clock becomes ineffective 

to the dying cancer patient, pain’s maidservant

idly postures an indispensable stronghold, as

morphine respites the rush of aches for an hour

and lulls into peremptory sleep, pallid breaths

and dreams of miracles drought all optimism, 

soiled bedsheets of putrid urine and stained feces 

mock the debilitating sentence, time is but the 

syringe of equable compromise and inherited demise

welcomes the night as the sunlight of the morning 

loll the postponement, all gloom disposes of any 

reconciliation, dispirited desertion, and wringing 

discomfort beckons the allotted hour, the synapse 

of living and dying becomes an abject agonizing 

trepidation, alas, the scoff of death is the sword

of incurable and inveterate scorn, death’s bed is

cold, unwelcoming, and isolated; gratuity’s splendor

withers away all pleasantries, time a reverent enemy, 

surrendering the last pendant of honor becomes 

the mortal rebuke and life’s last mutinous embrace

mocks the golden hour with illusory and agonizing 

abandonment, solicitations to any good or pagan

God sought to assuage disillusionment and grief 

befalls back in an echoing and resounding deathly 

silence, faith’s deceiving and corrupt, there are no

pearly welcoming gates, there are no streets of 

endless glittering gold, only ignominy, and defeat, for

all we love will be loved no more and wretchedness

will fall upon every victim borne unto this world, only

death will secure your place in an urn or reliquary, what

was once squandered shall never be by chance again. 

   

The Holding Room

There in this place dignity no longer resides

and tenderness and love are but casting 

evasive shadows,  the drunkard and apothec

druggie sit motionless awaiting reprieve, the 

killer’s estate now sprawls over some reserved 

strapped-down gurney; adjacent, lies an unlucky

child who cries for his mother in silence, altered by

reality and circumstance, five souls over, lies the 

greatest lawyer money can buy who now needs more

than any trial could ever acquit, beyond him lays 

the preacher who promises salvation through alms

only to himself; such a wretched lot on a rainy night

and the net is wide with its swipe; Anubis’ glare always 

guarantees and assists peril, the smite God never 

blunders, even the ermine can't burrow an escape 

from its fleeting grasp; this holding place severs

dawn from the night, injustice from righteousness, 

and death from life. Be careful of granted days, 

be wise to caution, and always travel to the light.