“Blue Monday” © C.P. Hickey 2018




What do you see, when you look at me?

As I stare at my palm, so passively.

Do you guess, like the rest,

that I’m searching to repress,

the pain?


Yes, the pain that my brain can’t escape.

I still can’t escape all of you.

What to do?

Express and redress, amounts to running on ice.


Take a closer look, then.

It’s an obstacle illusion.

Full of pollution.

An act of contrition, my life’s mission.


An admission, with permission,

pull right, hard!


Decision making ability, impaired.

Fighting to fight, swinging at those in closest proximity.

Victimizing those that take the time to care.

At what cost?

I’m nimble and sober when taking the piss out of others,

somehow the mirror in my palm leads to denial.


Toll evaders eventually get caught,

even if they think they aren’t guilty.

In truth, the silt of guilt collects at the bottom,

but can never begin to fill the emptiness.

“Perfect Purpose”

“Mullet Mayhem” © C.P. Hickey 2018



“Perfect Purpose”

The residual snow melts neatly as daylight gains a foothold.

Winter winds pinch less around the cheekbones, now.

Bitterness abates.

A vocation for longer stretched out days develops.

Prayers fall on listening ears,

and answers appear readily to balance the ledger.

Hard fought, wicked winter victory.

Triumph of warmth.

Keep rolling, calendar days, until the first frost appears on the fall pumpkin patch.

Then, the cozy woolen blankets will be retrieved for their perfect purpose.