Vicious And Forgiving
The Circle Of Living
Broken dreams and all the streets you could have lived on
Holding on can’t bring upon a new reason to hold on to
And just when you think you got it, its gone
We shed light and life goes on
Sex don’t sell and the last of the wine drips
On a carpet in a house not on top of the list
And just when you lose all you think you’ve got
The thought remains and life goes on
Lost love or the notion of all seems to drain
Hopeless and careless to never be the same
But when one door closes another one opens
And life goes on just the same
Daniel Jaffke
9/18/1983 - 1/31/2014
Shutdown
I don’t shut my door all the way
In turn I hope the morning will bring
A better fight and a turn of slights
Curse the dark with rays that ring
I don’t shut my mouth by the way
And I’d rather take that to my grave
So my words flow straight and slow
Into the ears of a dumb escape
I don’t shut down at night the same
While attempting to dream up a sky
Where the sun gives into night
Well within my defied twilight
Daniel Jaffke
9/18/1983 - 1/31/2014
The Trash Can,
Charles Bukowski
this is great, I just wrote two
poems I didn’t like.
there is a trash can on this
computer.
I just moved the poems
over
and dropped them into
the trash can.
they’re gone forever, no
paper, no sound, no
fury, no placenta
and then
just a clean screen
awaits you.
it’s always better
to reject yourself before
the editors do.
especially on a rainy
night like this with
bad music on the radio.
and now—
I know what you’re
thinking:
maybe he should have
trashed this
misbegotten one
also.
ha, ha, ha,
ha.
Ode To A Hobo
I admit the more I give and try
My dreams wither from the cold
All the while my head in the sky
I should have been digging for gold
Pocket lint, a hole for my change
Won’t keep me under my roof
Yet I continue to lose this game
And dreams no longer assumed
“Get a job” they shout from miles away
All from the tops of their lungs
Meanwhile I stop, stare, and dare
The thought of rising above
I admit the more I give and take
Each day is harder than the last
By living moments to break away
And knowing I stink of trash
Smart People
Do Stupid Things For A Reason
Looking down at the path we strive
The ground is littered with trash
Beneath the waste lies steps of stone
From breathing memories past
For every finger that points astray
And leads us all to an end
There is a better choice to choose
And worse wounds to mend
In this battlefield of the mind
One wishes but to defend
To wash away the tears and pain
And for peace to descend
Daniel Jaffke
September 18, 1983 - January 31, 2014
