Labels

a label
cannot tell
of the psycho-carnage
wherein i dwell
it can't be summarily defined
yet they presume to
and charge
extortion
upon the public
at large
my core is buffered
as if the will
to contact
needs a
radiation deterrent
or shielding chill

©Captain Cal
2/18/97

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Basalt in the Rough

my persona is no diamond
mine
my persona is no sapphire
fine
rough enough
to make me bleed
perforates those who
mistakenly need
it tears my mood
membrane
leaves me hating
an empty motel
that has no rating

©Captain Cal
11/96

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Black Pearl

The shell of seclusion is clamped shut.
Oyster knife is needed but,
Brutely chiseled open, pried:
Slashing, mashing pain-tied flesh inside.
Twasn't inner strength that reclasped the halves
But the weary weight of realization that has
Engendered a black hole pearl in Creation's oyster,
The grace to readjust my posture.

©Captain Cal
6/96

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Brain Pudding

Wrong-thinking brain pudding
that was grown in place
by blood vessels feeding empty space
in this case there was no improvement, no
over what had not been there before

Grown only to be a dessert
for psychiatric quacks
a snack to follow their filet mignon
or Big Psychiatric Macs

'Twas sloshed together
then cooked nice and dull
by wall-socket 'therapy'
electrical rape of mind and soul

No doubt our psycho-chefs
did dine finely,
but forgot and left their pudding
in my skull

©Captain Cal
8/96

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Call Me

Call me
A depressed schizophrenic
With chronic sinusitis
but ..
Call me

I am alone in isolation
Trying to care and find it too
In this gas-guzzling nation
Shared in common with you

I'm not equipped to drive or to thrive
I'm "lucky" if I just survive
Living with iatrogenic TBI
Half the time I just want to die

Jerked around in cyberspace
Wishing for a saving grace
I must have a change of pace
An escape from this rat-race

A tropical haven with a sailboat at anchor
Friends who relate to me without rancor
And maybe after honest affection hanker...

Instead I'm sitting on the deck
Of a slowly sinking burning wreck
A gordion knot entangling me
With the anchor
Promising to set me free...

©Captain Cal
6/96

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Cloud Stencil

cloud stencil in one hand
my feet are in a frying pan
draw what conclusions you may from such a fix
I'd best pull another from my bag of tricks
a can of silver paint comes out, to hand
a lining I shall apply
to be seen throughout the land
when the storm's heard roundabout
perhaps enough silver bits will fall out
rain down upon the shoemaker's hut
and buy some asbestos shoes for this dumb mutt

©Captain Cal
8/96