Tag: reality

food insecurity is gut-wrenching,

not losing a celebrity chef surprise

A poem.

the poor
the needy
the starving children in
your city

do not want your
shrunken, crusty,
38-day past due remains
of sugar-free cotton candy
Sobeys,

unopened in transparent packaging
at the bottom of a dirty onion bin called
a hamper
looking like unsold Funkos of the villain from
Liv Tyler’s Armageddon:
an impulse Christmas gift if ever you’ve seen –

“but it’s better than drinking your own pee!”
putting to question how the homeless population,
lacking proper hydration,
gained access to Waterworld levels of hydro-filtration without
Federal intervention
when my working wife won’t even gift me
a Japanese home man-milking contraption.

no Sir.
this is why the Food Bank demands cash.


so do middle-schoolers whose lunch is a Quarter-Pounder.
maybe we should be more concerned with
the elderly percentile.

//wd 1.22.2026

Original photo by MART PRODUCTION on Pexels.com.

Posted on by wd 0

let the kids with their parents’ money

go and have all the fun

A poem.

there was no money in my house growing up.
well, there was,
but my dad wouldn’t let us touch.
we were a frugal bunch.
that’s probably why i stole from him so much.

but the adage went,
it was his to do with as he saw fit.
he made it: he alone could spend it,
making all the decisions for the family unit.
that was

until there was nothing left in the accounts to stretch –
he was laid-off from his nine-to-five
and couldn’t make a living doing work on the side.
then my mother got a job –
hurt his amour-propre –
throwing a wrench into his life she had robbed.

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

a reminder

A poem.

we sat side-by-side the other day –
so close and yet so far away,
and i could see the sunlight reflected off your steely-blue eyes
as i wondered if you even knew i drew breath.
so many sleepless nights, drained but restless
wishing i had your body against mine –
because i believed you alone could soothe me,
mitigate me,
love me and my touch
this time.

but i’ve been wrong before.

so like a thief i’ve stolen what i could
to fuel a fantasy that would.
your face, your look –
the freckles that dot like weathered wood.
placing you in-phase with others who came before,
dreaming that maybe i could enjoy those times more.
your life continues
and mine stands ignored.
i have to move on. i do.

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0

shellfish

A poem.

what do you mean i don’t come on anyone’s authority?
you Sir catechize in impossibilities!
a list of people who know me,
systematically,
who would speak efficaciously
re: me?
preposterousity!
while alternately, you could accept me at the length of my extended goatee.

∼ lengthy exhale ∼
but if we must to win your trust,
then let us descend into the chancery,
unpedantically –

mind the leads,

Continue reading →
Posted on by wd 0