My Muse

At this point

my muse is…

this little piece of me.

I got a few pet peeves.

Don’t call me paranoid,

don’t tease my dog, and don’t make

fun of my poetry,

or I swear

God above will

punish the hell out of

you in ways

you never dreamt of.


I can’t see any further use for

traditional education.

I’d rather be cast in stone

in the middle of a park

than sitting in a chair

being lectured to

by some professor who

has memorized his speech like

an hour

long preacher’s fire and brimstone


.Although, being educated does have its uses.

I can only think of one.

For example, a ‘Bachelor of Science’ degree just

might get your foot in the door somewhere with

a little help from your friends

(or, if the interviewer likes you since you kissed up enough?)

I think I went as far as I needed to go in


Those with a higher piece of paper

probably wouldn’t agree.

But, what I’d say to them is something like,

‘you don’t pay my bills, fella.’

Anyway, I am a very poor employee.

I was a good student but forgot

more than I remember.

It happened once I was self-employed

for many years.

I got this attitude about why should I make those A______S money?

Anyway, back to school:

I only went to prove to myself I was smart enough to get a degree.

I just wasn’t smart enough at the time to know I didn’t need one in

the first place.

As an abused child, I was told I was ‘stupid and ugly,’

that’s where it all started…

(by my Mother of all people. Thanks Mums! You did so much for

my self image! Married four times. Millions of girlfriends. Chose all the wrong

ones. But, it’s OK Mother, I’m almost sixty-five and you’re basically off the hook,

because I can’t go on blaming you forever, I guess!? Well, blaming you didn’t make me well, it just kept me stuck as victim who was very angry for a very long time. Oh, Father dear, here’s a few words for you. You were absent

and never there for me. I worshipped you and wanted to be just like you! Now, you are really absent, because you are dead. Way to go! All I wanted was for you to be a Father, not a buddy. I already had lots of buddies who were

fair-weather friends.

Oh, by the way Mom, I used to love you, but you beat it out of me at Puberty. Remember when I used to bring you a flower I picked on the way home from school? Sorry for all the trouble I caused you both.)

I didn’t really cause them any trouble. I was a good kid worthy of parents who wanted a son to love.

They never talked about their upbringing. Who knows, maybe they were abused, too. They never said. Of course, that doesn’t justify their past behavior toward me nor mine toward those I verbally abused. And, I

carried on the family tradition of yes, being a lousy father.

It stuck (my low self-image) until I took a salesmanship class in College and

they videotaped it.

They played it back.

I seemed like a real likeable guy,

good looking, and funny and all

that stuff…

(which I usually am.)

I really under-rated myself.

Watching the video told me I was OK.

Imagine that.

I was OK.

I have always been OK.

I used to not think that.

Now, I do.

I have for many years thought

me to be OK.

More than just OK.

YOU Be OK with you, too.

Anyway, I learn as I go

as all the so called ‘street smart’ people do.

I have retirement income, so I don’t need to work

at Walmart and take any S__T off anyone.

(don’t we see some old people working there greeting people? For some reason,

they don’t go and get a cart for me. I don’t know, maybe they think

I’m the senior competition and I’m goanna try to take their job?)

Everything and everyone I run across, even the ignorant

teaches me

(even children do.)

There’s nothing I don’t learn a lesson from.

One Exception to the rule!

I cannot stand Academics and Intellectuals!

They sicken me.

I want to strangle them with their own


They don’t teach me a friggin’ thing

except I want to kick their pompous know it all world should be

a certain way asses!

As teacher, I am also student.

(I don’t mean real teacher. I mean teacher right here

in this poem. There must be something you are learning from

this old soul? Yes?)

Although, I could train as a Psychologist

(I could be a therapist without academic training)

and would definitely be a very good one,

but that’s not what I want to do

(I hear there is a high suicide rate amongst shrinks)


What’s great is when I get a ‘Like’ on a poem.

That really tickles me pink.

And, to think I didn’t want approval from anyone!

Boy, Approval is great.

disapproval is what sucks!

No man is an island.

And, I thank you for reading and liking my stuff!

This is my way of thanking my readers.

That means YOU.


Sometimes, those you have never met

and probably never will become

the best friends you’ll ever (never?) have.

It really keeps my head

on straight.

I mean, this writing

thing of mine…

It gets all the kinks out

of my neck and spine.

And, don’t forget

the old saying…

‘It’s better crying in a full glass of beer

rather than waiting

patiently for a bartender

in training

to serve you a tall glass of jack and coke.’

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