Faceless tent people

I don’t like faceless people
Looking out at me
I don’t like faceless people
What do they think they see?
Who are the faceless people
Sleeping in those tents?
Who are those faceless people?!?
My fear is now intense!
I dream of faceless people
Sleeping next to me
I dream of faceless people
Who do they want to be?
Embrace the faceless people
They’re my cup of tea
I’ve joined the faceless people
They’re just like you and me


Lately things they don’t seem the same

I’ve been in a haze
For four or five days
It’s been since the first
And just gotten worse
I’ve been close to tears
For four or five years
My eyes are a fount
When birthdays don’t count


I get weird

I know the Irish think I’m strange
But there’s no way I’m gonna change
I’m weird as fuck all night and day
And weird as fuck is how I’ll stay


I even checked my butthole

I have a thing I cannot find
I think I’ve gone and lost my mind
There was a time I had it here
But it’s been gone at least a year
I’ve checked the closets and the drawers
I’ve checked the ceilings and the floors
My mind is not inside my head
Nor is it hiding ‘neath the bed
I’ve looked outside and under there
I just made you say underwear
I’ve searched around the potted plants
And in the pockets of my pants
My Irish friends just laughed I swear
‘Cause pants to them mean underwear
I really hope it’s just misplaced
A mind’s an awful thing to waste
But if it’s gone, I will be fine
As long as one thing’s always mine
I must keep it at any cost
My sense of humor can’t be lost


Doomscrolling for the loss

Go to bed and scroll
Scroll scroll scroll scroll scroll scroll scroll
Scroll scroll scroll and sleep


Long, straight, curly, fuzzy

It’s here, it’s there, I do declare
Around the house, there’s so much hair!
I sweep it up from nine to five
But I can’t stop, that hair’s alive!
It falls off Linc and Brownie Bear
It’s on the ground, it’s in the air
It’s black and brown and coarse and fine
I cannot lie, some hair is mine
It’s on the rug and every stair
It’s on the couch and every chair
It’s on my shirt, it’s on my hat
I have enough to make a cat
It’s on my face and derrière
This feckin’ hair is everywhere!


Happy Birthday Linc!

I have a cat, his name is Linc
His fur is soft and black as ink
His claws are sharp, his butthole pink
Around the house he likes to slink
Then disappears before I blink
He thinks that Brownie is a fink
He likes to make his boxes stink
His antics push me to the brink
So, twice a month I see a shrink
That little shit drives me to drink


Bad poetry day

To some folks, my poems are shitty
They’re rude, vile and stupid – not witty
They say that my drawings ain’t pretty
More worthy of scorn, not your pity
It’s fine that some find it offensive
I used to get moody and pensive
Then lash out because I’m defensive
My therapy bills were expensive
But now when my poems are hated
I won’t feel so low and deflated
The reason I’m now liberated?
Bad poetry is celebrated!


Don’t tell them it’s Friday the 13th

Today’s all about reinstatement
Q’s furor is an understatement
Though seven months late
It’s well worth the wait
To celebrate their overweight gent


Also… people suck

Why am I raging?
While sadness is part of loss
Anger is grief too


There ain’t no cure for the summertime blues

Therapy day – therapy day
I always feel better on therapy day
My cheeks are much wetter on therapy day
Therapy day – therapy day
I talk about issues on therapy day
I fly through the tissues on therapy day
Therapy day – therapy day
I wallow in sadness on therapy day
I tamp down the madness on therapy day
Therapy day – therapy day
I don’t talk about you on therapy day
I just talk about you on therapy day
Therapy day – therapy day
I weird laugh and gross cry on therapy day
I can’t wait to have my next therapy day
Therapy day – therapy day


That text was better than sext

I’ve been stressed out to the max
Then I got some hopeful news
I’ve been scheduled for the vax
That has brightened up my blues


Rat in a cage

I am full of rage
Linc kneads and Brownie snuggles
I am less angry


Feel his burning love!

A cleric named Abzan Farnese
When burning things sure wasn’t lazy
He’d torch foes and then
He’d blaze them again
You might say he’s combustion crazy


Concealed in Cork

Someone won the jackpot
Making me a crackpot
They won’t think it’s funny
That I have no money
Since I have no bounty
Better leave the county


I don’t like Mondays

Today is so Monday
It just isn’t fun day
It might make me cry day
I wish it were Friday


Sean is awkward dot com

Awkward isn’t hot
Awkward’s all I got
Awkward’s not a lot
Awkward’s my last shot


Breathe breathe in the air

When my blood begins to seethe
That is when I need to breathe
Just a deep and simple breath
Will help me to fend off death


Existing isn’t living

Constant solitude
Eternal isolation
Stifling loneliness


Make it stop

I’m going through a stage
Where all I do is rage
I go from being kind
To lost my fucking mind
I know I’ll do again
And maybe lose a friend
I wish that I could stop
Before I blow my top
I try and cannot chill
Instead roll down the hill
Into an awful place
A rampaging disgrace


Please baby please baby please baby baby baby please

Every night, can’t stop doomscrolling
Covid-19, right-wing trolling
Sanity is slowly slidin’
Need a win from ol’ Joe Biden


Stay demented!

I listened to Dr. Demento
Recounting his latest memento
A “Weird Al” 8-track
He found in the back
Of a thrift store in Sacramento


Proximity paralysis

I can call you on the phone
But I still feel all alone
We could maybe even zoom
But you’re not here in this room
We could have a meal to share
But you’re not here ’cause you’re there
But the thing I really fear
Is if you were really here


Never-ending nonsense

One constant in this madness
My poems still endure
And I will bring the gladness
Until they find a cure


Goofy for LEGO Disney

I’m working on my LEGO train
It helps to make me less insane
With Mickey, Minnie, Chip and Dale
This Disney train is off the rail
It even has a Goofy too
And 18 bags until I’m through
Around the tracks the cars will cruise
To help allay my Rona blues


Just one more thing…

When I hit a groove, I work really great
But I don’t begin until it’s too late
I’m doing my best to get going soon
But I find it hard to start before noon
Despite this slight hitch, I still have my pride
So I will push these distractions aside
My pets are downstairs, I’ve locked up the boys
I’ve tidied my space, I’ve muted the noise
I know I’ll do well, I’ll give it my most
I have one more thing this poem to post


Poitín > pot of gold

The spooky day will be here soon
I have been hyped since half past June
If you don’t like please don’t impugn
I like black cats, but I’m no loon
And over in this land of green
The treats are good, the tricks aren’t mean
And if you’re nice you’ll get poitín
That’s why I treasure Halloween


They were the best days

I keep picking at the scab
Memories I want to stab
Need to clear up this malaise
And remember better days


It’s possible in my head

I tried to drive the motorway
But clearly I should stay away
I did my best but still had fear
Of flying off this big blue sphere


Damn vertigo

I tried my best to climb the reek
I ended short of the steep peak
My disappointment is miles high
At least I took pics of blue sky


Slow down, you move too fast

When I think I’m doing something
I’m just busy doing nothing
When I think I’m keeping busy
I’m just making myself dizzy
When I think I’m near perfection
I’m just in the wrong direction
Never-ending sweat exposes
I should stop and smell the roses

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