An Irish Beat Poet's Dilema

About to put pen to paper
it hits me, and I wonder
how many poets have wrote
about going to some party
with a guy called Dean Moriarty?

My recent visit to Yeats' grave
when Benbulbin hid
in low cloud
I found confusion in the question
of why someone so profound might want
to be buried with a gift shop so close by?

I, no horseman, still passed by.

Don't Be Too Nice

Let's not ignore the kicks
that swing wildly past us
they might strike yet
on their way back.

Let's not use bricks
to defend ourselves from the fuss
our only friends our pets
let's use them to attack.

I Don't Like You Any More!

Can you not feel my pain!
Your words sting
I am falling
soaked with tears
like being chased by bees in the rain
each of us looking for shelter
but we harm each other
because of nature
we fall to drown
me and the bees
they stung my heart
I broke their knees.
because I mistook them for you.