by Richard Schemmerer
Portfunia is the cross we carry
is the road that splits the heart
is the place where lust and pain
exchange their spit into a glob
that make life's conundrums
easier to swallow like a mint
that has been laying unfinished
in ones trousers pockets and
is now refreshed by hard sucking
to cover the bad taste of yesterday
that still lingers after one to many
shallow wantings for a truer truth
that lets us laugh again against the tide
that pushes its worn out war slogans
along the air waves of our happiness
to conquer the last vestiges in us
in the pulsating veins of thoughts
that don't put us down into place
where we just seen us a demographic
to be bombarded with callus advertising
of a life style that doesn't suit
neither humanity nor the planet as a whole
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