The gloom went on for hours.

Twenty-four are in a day.

We had stopped to smell the flowers.

The ones that didn’t wash away.

She said, “Just you count your blessings.”

I rowed hard and came ashore.

I said, “I don’t like our chances.”

So we left with just one more.

There are many ways to make it.

Probably more in which to not.

Some days, I just stay quiet here.

Cause right now, that’s all I got.

You say you have the answers.

As for me, I just don’t know.

Was a time when we had love.

And a time you had to go…

The rain fell down for hours.

The gloom it rose for days.

My dreams were from another time.

When we were parting ways.

To be stubborn is so human.

I can see it in the kid.

I see it more in you than me.

But I know what we both did.

You see, I found forgiveness.

I left you in that room.

I was dealing here with living.

You were wallowing in doom.

The lineup is long for coffee.

The last tasty legal drug.

I’ve been leaning towards giving up.

Maybe after this one last mug.

There are rainbows at the skyline .

The sun is shining bright.

I’ve been thinking lots about the one.

That keeps it tight and right.

I hear that she got married.

No matrimony for me.

And I heard that didn’t go too well.

So I guess it’s wait and see.

The rain has passed, clearly delusions.

No pain has cast merely confusions.

All this polarity, not attracting unions.

Much singularity among Ken’s and Susan’s.

May arrived this morning.

With air, that’s still and cool.

No letters in the mailbox.

So I guess no change of rule.

The actors are still acting.

The writers are quite down.

The producers all are smiling.

CHATGPT has come to town.

Now, there’s no need to worry.

But there’s panic in the streets.

Sometimes when I pray to God…

I don’t plan for meet and greets.

I have resigned.

Zero control.

I am powerless.

What will be will be.

Taking in the view and enjoying myself.

The art of relaxation.

Fuck it!

My patience has worn thin…

Unraveling at the self checkouts machine.

The singular cashier was wavering…

As her line grew longer.

Saturday holds no joy.

Just rest.

I have these moments lacking gratitude.

I walk away with empty hands.

I forgot my glasses.

I’m not ready for that airplane ride.

To greet the dead and go inside.

To face all truth, I must confide.

Feel unprepared, I should have tried.

It’s not like my hands were tied.

The jokes were grand. I almost cried.

In fear or faith, we all reside.

The view was best at tall and wide.

I’m in a transitional phase; not the last transition I’ll go through. However, that is getting closer, too.

I moved here to the city of my birth, I told myself, to find my father. However, upon reflection, I really came to find her…

My daughter is 11 going on much more, and we are, just the 2 of us, planning on going back to where I originally came from, all those years ago looking for Dad and I’m that now.

My parents came from the east, which reminds me of the old joke: “What do you call a Newfoundlander who runs out of money on the way to Toronto? A Cape Bretoner!”

I’ve learned much about parenting from being a parent. She has taught me by being honest, and I have learned from her by being teachable.

The lessons continue…

It’s been cool here for April.

Often sunny; threatening storm.

Crazies are off their meds, it seems.

They’re fighting demons, staying warm.

There are screams heard in the alley.

There are fears with loathing dread.

The woke are striking up the band.

And the monsters fat and fed.