One Moment, Please

One Moment, Please, 5/6/2016, Deon Mumple

One moment, please, I’m not trying to tease,
But you can have my attention in a minute.
You think that I’m fine, I act all the time,
My favorite place is where I’m alone in it,
So I don’t want to talk, or go for a walk,
Unless the neighbors and their dogs stay well away,
I don’t want to speak, or for them to speak to me,
And seven thousand alone days without the gray
The clear sky is clouded, and I feel surrounded,
Sometimes even when I really am alone
When I hear a telephone I’m pushed to a rage zone,
The only sound a phone should make is silent tones.
If I want to call you, double standard, it’s true,
Then I’ll call you and I’ll keep it quick
And please accept the fact that this isn’t an act,
Certain things you think are normal make me sick
I don’t handle stress well, social settings are hell
When I’m not in control of my own choices
So please don’t call me, I don’t want to be
Selfish or difficult, but I hear enough voices.
They live in my head; I wish they were all dead,
So you can have my attention in a minute,
I’m dealing with others, while nausea smothers
My favorite place is where I’m alone in it.

Staring Through (Vodka Love Song)

Staring Through (Vodka Love Song), 2/3/2016, Deon Mumple

He liked wine a little,
Favorite colour was purple,
But wine never got quite close enough,
Sometimes it would be beer,
With dinner and good cheer,
But more often life was just rough,

It was an illusion,
Never cleared confusion,
But he liked staring through his shot glass
When his vodka filled it,
When life felt like straight shit
He liked to drink ’til it kicked his ass

Confusion never came from the bottles’ lips
He never took more than a couple sips,
Just drank until life’s pain would slightly fade,
And vodka never told him, “go away.”

Straight through, he saw clearly
Like water, severely
But never had clear vision. What to do?
Pour another shot,
Grateful for a lot,
But wishing for understanding, too…

He loved her dearly,
She loved, austerely,
As if he, at fault somehow, should make amends,
She pushed him away,
Almost every day,
The couch, dark, and vodka were his friends,

Although he knew it was only an illusion,
At least vodka never left him in seclusion,
He drank ’til wasted love’s pain’d slightly fade,
And vodka never told him, “go away.”

Rejection never came from the bottles’ lips
He never took more than a couple sips,
Just drank until he felt loved, or close to,
And vodka never told him what to do.

Cyclones, Rages, Phones and Phases

Cyclones, Rages, Phones and Phases, 08/03/2015, Deon Mumple

In my manic phases I’m a real renaissance man,
I can do more, I just can’t dance the can-can,
When I’m depressed I could give less than a fuck.
Don’t ask me for shit, or you’ll be shit out of luck.
But on any given day, it’s my normal way, I cannot lie,
Don’t ring my phone, leave me alone, fuck. off. and die.
In my manic phases I can’t let you slide, driving poorly,
Even with class and classical radio both going for me,
When I’m depressed I’m late.  Fuck you, Out of my way,
Move. your. ass. I’ve got other things to deal with today.
But on any given day, I’d rather stay home and not go anywhere.
If I were home I’d be free to choose whether or not to care.