sitting as
the graffiti covered
train rumbles past
admiring the irony
of a cemetery
at the edge of
a dead end road
wondering how
many of these
granite markers
rests above a
dreamer that
slipped back
home into the
void’s embrace
feeling fulfilled
surrounded by
loved ones at
the very end and
able to transition
peacefully into
eternity
now i sit
before a smallish
pond as the wind
blows waves across
the blue green
collection of
clear water at
two obstinate ducks
sitting in place
despite the turmoil
surrounding them
and i realize
maybe five percent
of those headstones
had happy endings
the rest sat above
the corpses of
stubborn fowls who
fought the whitecaps
only to wind up
in the same cheap box
as those lucky bastards
who died fulfilled
there aren’t enough
middle fingers to
express my disdain
for this mockery
but i cherish the
fact i got to love,
and momentarily
be loved, by some of
the most beautiful
ladies on the planet
so i keep swimming
while writing the
words that will sit
over my empty coffin
despite all odds
he fucking tried
his occasional best
maybe it can be
sculpted into
a middle finger
with an eternal flame
sputtering fitfully
in the tepid breeze
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
I’d think you’d like ducks or at least appreciate them since they bite.
They are resilient and conditioned by weather to withstand until there is no food and then they migrate, adaptive and smart. They mate for life. Protective of their young… They fly in flocks to grant one another rest during the long haul.
I have a friend who studied them in her graduate program… who said they are mean, meaning to humans, who would capture them to study them to label them… or to call them only to hunt them to eat them… or who would pave over their habitat… to build athletic centers for the rich… like what happened to Goose Hollow in Portland, Oregon… you can feel the streams running under the sidewalks and rails.
Yes… perhaps ducks are not for you and you might envy them as you do or you could let it all roll off your back and become buoyant… in all kinds of weather…?
It’s a great poem Mike… but of course… I like ducks. Including knowing when to duck…
🌸❤︎
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Ducks are okay. I was in a mood probably. Lol. My apologies to the foulest of water fowl.
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I wanna hear you say that in the voice of Donald Duck (not Daffy) and then I will accept your foul language. 😂❤️
I’m not even going to mention Howards name. 🤫shhhhh…. be like Harry Potter.
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Hahahaha. Deal.
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😊 ❤︎
Hey but so…since I last “spoke” to you another chicken (this time coop) person liked my post all because the algorithm vibed on my mention of chickens! I don’t know if I should run with it or from it! 😱 Does that make me chicken? Am I starting to hate chickens?
🤬🐔
Chickens everywhere are confused by my intentions, and reactions Mike!!!
So I guess I can relate about you aversion to ducks… ya know?
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I get it. Chickens are weird for sure. Better than ducks.
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Well, I don’t dislike chickens… it’s just that one mention of a chicken in a poem or eggs and suddenly I have algorithm chicken farmer sales-peeps liking my post! I’m pretty sure they aren’t even reading it. It’s just an automated AI thing. If someone is actually reading my poem, that’s cool tho. I just don’t have a chicken fetish so I’m like wtf am I attracting??? 😳🐔 lol!
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Hot farmers in your area have chickens just for you
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