Not taking life seriously

is the way to be

Not taking women seriously

is the way to be

Not taking bosses, or bills, or existential inconveniences


is the way to be

or else

it’s the news or a hobby

that we take seriously


we become like everybody

Angry at inflation, taxes, impending nuclear war

dissatisfied with golf, unable to game the system

lacking guts to kill big game.

Frustration, is the young man’s poison

that he drinks


Nobody cares about his efforts

despite his complaining, endlessly

There is no ‘A’ for effort, no points for second place

A 4.0 student will be the least prepared for life

Women have more of a chip on their shoulder than men do

because they have been told “they can’t” for so long.

Now they are doing everything “they can”


they aren’t happy.

Half of women are on anti-depressants

Half of men have contemplated suicide

Half of marriages end in divorce

the other half

pretends in public

that they have the perfect life.

If a man can’t be best at something

he searches for

how to cope with something

singing his favorite music

getting stoned with the rolling stones

catching no moss

on the down-side

of depression mountain

and not feeling better, for his efforts.

Those kids in high school

who were already depressed

never had a chance.

They believed

they were going to be


but their dream could only last for 8 years

like 8 hours of sleep

until they woke up

to the realities.

Now, the editors taunt me

I understand their job is a grind.

Just think how awful it would be

to read bad poetry

all day

from sycophantic premadonnas

who think they are geniuses

who send nasty replies

to automated emails

“You didn’t even read my poem! Why won’t you give me a chance?”

I guess I should be thankful that I get snarky shit

from the sharks of the soulless sea

who make pennies, from the morons who write well enough

for little magazines

The suffering of the world is poetry.

Until the poets can learn to love pain, injustice, and evil

they will never be able to say something true.

Everybody loves a poem about love

but if you write a poem about hate

that people love

you have done, what writers are supposed to do

They look into the cracks

and see more than drugs and ass

Society is fractured, because it has so much pain

They think, they can fuck their pain away.

Why do people keep having children in starving countries

where soldiers, aids, and lions

feast on human remains?

Because nature survives in the worst conditions

it thrives…

In the West, women don’t want to have children

and the collapse is coming

like a game of dominoes

or a poorly planned hand of hearts

the queen of spades

digging mass-graves

for the children who were never born.

We are nature, sorting ourselves out


like a hurricane, ripping through towns and schools

We have to learn the hard way

life is not an easy ‘A’

If you don’t make the grade

you can’t come back.

We teach the opposite of what’s true

Is it any surprise

that the good student goes back to school

and does something bad?

Too many nice guys walk into the world

and don’t know what to do

when the women laugh

at them

and laugh

and laugh.

What if their teachers taught

the way they were supposed to?

Dropping out of Harvard, to become a billionaire

still being a beta-male


can’t become the men

they want to



have seen to that

“The weaker sex?”


I walk down the streets

becoming more

who I want to be

whispering words

to myself

like a homeless man

plagued by insanity


from society—that appliance, that isn’t good for anybody

convenient and comfortable

a cancer

that spreads, until we kill it

Words won’t do it

they only help

to cope with the pain.

4 thoughts on “Chemo Brain

  1. Yes, a writer’s job is to look into the cracks and see “more than…” But a good writer’s job is to acknowledge the darkness and hopelessness and despair, and dig beneath that, too, until we find the spark of life, the spark of why, the spark of meaning that keeps people going and trying and struggling despite it all. The spark is always there. The lazy writer gives up and sinks into the pit, because he’s seen too much of the bleakness. The true writer reminds the reader why he or she is so very much in love with life.

    Liked by 3 people

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