Look

look, regret, life, poetry, steven humphreys

Look!

something else

I’ve got to do

before I’m

damned well

through with

all of this

stuff called

‘whatever’!

[better word you should

have used Steve

is ‘life.’]

(Oh yes, I

now even talk to myself…

lately,

I seem to have become two people. Yes, I converse with them both. Does that mean there are three of us? Yes, I talk to the other two of me? Maybe. I could be one happy guy and one so so lonely guy in the same body with an extra fearless leader personality as well. well, not really… How is the weather? Kooky, I hope…)

what else

could it be?

I mean, what else

is there left to

do in life?

(or, see?)

hum…

let me think.

well,

this isn’t it.

I mean, what

I’m doing now

isn’t quite cutting

the mustard.

better choice

is

to fly

around over

this crumby

little

nowhere

town

of mine

(I nicknamed

‘Glee City’, because it’s

so ha, ha, ha, gleeful! Oh god! I’m

so happy, I could just kill myself!)

like a free

dog with wings.

yeah,

that’s it!

fly like a bird.

(with a cute bull dog face)

I think that’s a good

idea.

but,

is that too much

to require?

(god could change me

into a bird dog and back to a man

if he felt like it.

Yes, he sure could.

Just like magic!

Poof! I am

now one flying

CHICKEN DOG!)

wow,

if I were a bird dog

I’d have wings

to flap.

I’d always

be losing

feathers

here,

and

especially

mostly

way

over

there…

I’d be flying around

up there

way

way

way

up there

circling around

aimlessly

taking my own

sweet time

about it

all

like one fearless

dark

hungry

(but, very angry)

buzzard

(dog)

with a twelve

foot wingspan

and look down

for a while

at all those

struggling

mad as hell

intrepid

ants driving

around on

those stupid

freeways

(southern California’s is the worst. And, yes, I

am considering moving out of this ‘liberalized’ smog bowl… know the words

to the song ‘Georgia’?)

fighting each

other for

a

measily

buck!

(and, feel damned glad

I wasn’t down there

being one of them.

And, unleashing

one of my multi-colored

bird dropping bombs

splattering and

smearing their windshields…)

then, I’d glide

my way

slowly

back down

landing

on my two

gnarly

sharp

toenailed

size twelve

extra wide

bird dog feet.

I’d walk around

and flap

my large

grandiose

(angelic like)

wings

looking around at

things

colorful

and black

and white

small

and large

even looking at the

dreary

things

as if

they were still

far

far

far

away

like I was still up there

flying around, looking down.

I’d have a

new

point of view…

(far sighted?)

I’d kick

up dirt

scratching at the

ground like

a tiny

bantam

rooster

(dog)

looking for a fight

with both my

hands

(wing tips)

shoved

deep

in my pockets

and make a big

dust cloud

that would

encircle the next door neighbor’s

CAR

(‘they just washed’. Boy, I hate my neighbor… I have a very good reason. I’d tell you why, but it’s a long long story. Maybe, later in another poem… I do love their cat, though. Anyway, this poem has apparently dragged on long enough as it is… Yes?)

with a thick coat of dust

and shrug

my

(feathered)

shoulders

(barking)

flapping my broad wings

chirping

(at least trying to chirp)

my proclamation:

‘Sorry, buster I’m not

god, I can’t control

where the friggin’ wind

blows. It blows

from West to East

every day this

exact time. Do you remember, yesterday

or is that too long ago to remember’!?

after that,

I think I would

begin realizing

my life

was

one big

hallucination

that

all

happened

in

my

minuscule

bird

brain

imagination.

(dogs are smarter, you know…)

anyway,

that’s

my

own

perspective.

(a bird dog

eye

view.)

it’s

my take

on this

conscious

entity

I

tend

to

believe

is

the real

me.

yet, all of this

could very well

be

a joke,

and if it is,

it’s surely

a big

one on me

and sometimes

it seems a cruel

joke at that.

you know,

I never understood

that kind of humor.

I mean, the joke’s

on me kind

of humor isn’t

very funny

unless it’s happening

to a neighbor you

hate.

(hint: like of course, the one directly to the west, next door…)

nevertheless,

sometimes

I join

in and laugh

(tweet or bark, it doesn’t really matter

which animal language you choose)

and preen

my feathers

for no

apparent

reason

other

than

as

an excuse

to

listen to

my bird

beak

clank,

clank,

clankity,

clank.

 

 

 

 

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Author: Steven Humphreys

I have long been married and currently write health and wellness articles and poetry posts. I have authored several books currently for sale at most popular outlets. I hope you like my blog finding my articles informative and meaningful as well as entertaining. Let me know what you think. You can read more 'about me' on this site. Thanks for stopping by!

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