i hate the days the worlds a game of chess
where we compete with our parents actions
each generations tides cross eachother out
i just think that that could stop now
we could work together
it's funny how comfortable i am with not sleeping
and surely i know it's healthy to be eating but,
i havent eaten a really meal in months
my mom never noticed, in fact, nobody does
this worlds full of some that make weird decisions,
then they mess up and we're just supposed to listen
i got alot of simple problems, from scribbles to songs from bills to concerts,
but there's one problem , that always gets me
its how at the end of the day kids go hungry
and what about how nobody listens to those who speak softly?
I wish most days I didnt drink my coffee but my problems never come off me, in fact
least with glue you just pick at it and usualy it goes away
i want to stay ...in a safe place, I wish the world wasnt a paperchase, I wish I was bass, I wish I had no taste, to just hide and hide inside some days
that will be my escape
I don't come here much anymore.
Too many memories.
They say every house has a tale to tell,
Every rusted door jam a mystery.
That window over there, looking pale
And yellowed with age
And dust and yesterdays wonder, I broke
Way, way back before Grandpa had his stroke
And Grandma left her rocker for the last time.
I'd thrown a baseball right through it.
Pa was drinking then, the hard liquor,
And he whipped me raw out back behind the shed
With the full buckle. He reminded me
Windows cost money we don't have.
She was six or seven then.
She was just learning how to ride a bike,
And she was proud as can be.
She would hang out by the hollyhocks,
Pretending they were scarecrows,
Naming each one,
And telling me she'd found a pirates treasure
Buried out there near the windmill that still needed
A coat or two of fresh paint.
She was that shine in Momma's eyes,
The one person in all the world Grandma would tell
Her stories to -
Stories that would bring Eleanor
Into worlds of imagination and wonder
She'd never known before.
And Eleanor would drink it in,
All the color and fire,
That lingered in every word.
And when she wandered that late October night
Into the fields,
We searched up and down with lanterns lit and flashlights, And the neighbors helped,
And we found her come morning in the silo.
I guess she'd climbed in to explore.
You can't breathe when it hits you. It's like it
Sucks the air right out of the little space you find ,
And the weight of the grain slowly drowns out your Thoughts and your struggles, your prayers
And your cries. And nothing's left to do
But feel that terror
Of nothingness pull you away.
So many memories...
And I was angry then. Angry at Pa,
I blamed them for everything and then some.
I learned to smoke , and I did it well.
I learned to swear, and I was good at it.
I didn't stay home much after that.
I left, hitched a ride to New Castle Valley,
And then to Porterville.
I didn't care for schooling,
So I found a job feeding pigs.
That lead to butchering. And I was good at it.
I could lose myself in it. In the thunder of the sin,
Found some satisfaction in how they bled.
I didn't go back til after Dad died.
He'd lost everything, did a bit of drinking,
Spent his time in the county jail,
Did more drinking
When he got out.
I'd learned Grandpa died of the pneumonia,
And Grandma had a few strokes.
Nobody ever told me what happened to Momma.
She just disappeared.
...and over time I grew less angry.
And I'd talk to God at night,
Sometimes I'd talk to Eleanor, cuz I knew
She was up there with God doing angel things,
Probably riding a bicycle real good by now.
Time marched on and I made due.
But I don't come here much anymore.
This place haunts me.
The silo that claimed Eleanor now a rusted heap
Of wood and metal that watches every step I take
...and I hate it,
I'd burn it to ashes if I could.
The porch where Grandma's rocker sat
Is weather beaten and tired.
And the stump where Grandpa would sit
Trimming his fingernails with that pocket knife
Lays on its side, victim to the winds of time
And those echoes that whisper things I thought
And I lose it for a moment
And have to mop away a few tears.
Me, a fifty-six year old blubbering fool,
Still picking at the scars.
I can hear her voice,
As she circled the gravel road on her bike,
Kicking at the small stones to get the bicycle moving
Just a little faster.
And I can almost see her sweet face
And her eyes so wide
They captured the Autumn sun like a rising star.
And there's Momma, hollering "Supper's ready."
And Pa, slamming down the hood on
The truck and wiping the hot sweat from his brow
As Grandma's little rocking chair squeaked its protests
Into the wind.
And there was Grandpa,
Grinning and pocketing that knife
And kicking mud off his
Work boots and heading on in.
No, I don't come here much anymore.
This place holds far too many ghosts for my tastes.
Copyright © 2012 Richard D. Remler
"You fall out of your mother's womb,
you crawl across open country under fire,
and drop into your grave."
Wickering destruction thundering from the summit
First a death rain then deafening sound.
Rumble and boom.
Cordite flowers bloom and twinkle in
The srarless night.
Whistle me home my friend though my face unseen.
Lock and load my friend .
Then whistle me swiftly home.
Mother stands in the doorway worlds apart. She ponders the sudden chill.
FIRE. Pull the lanyard wire and whistle me home.away.
Soaring. Sireen.screaming thunder
True and deadly.
Ground zero stands the hero.
Drop the sight
Gunny,crank her down.
Lock and load Gunny
Fire and whistle me home.
on the other side
of the bed
watching me write
but we're worlds away
you hardly ever
look in my
maybe one of those
in your brain
one of those doors
that should be left shut
on the other side
of the bed
but I can't even
reach out my hand
as a bundle of batik cloth
you carried me
slung across your shoulders
a mess of curls and hungry crying
you sing me words I don’t understand
after the rain
you sweep the fallen leaves
with one arm against your back
and the weight of shadows you could not leave
sleepy faced in a bowl of morning cereal
your fingers braid my bed head
with bright blue ribbons
that intertwine our worlds together
and then apart
i stumble through the door
tripping on sentences
you say nothing
but tuck me in
back in her homeland
she left her two children
only to gain two more
and when i leave for snow this August
i will be leaving not just one mother
the gods told me
that while we lay last night
they wound a tiny red ribbon
around our little fingers
a ceaseless pinky promise
stitched into the fabric of our skin
to be tangled and stretched
but never severed
snaking through stars and satellites
for the destined ones
to seek each other
calamity after calamity
tonight our worlds have separated
by time, place and circumstance
but we will meet again
when our shadows find their way out of the dark
I was born of fire,
of a simple flame.
I save many worlds,
yet I take no blame.
It all dwindles away,
into my dark past.
What applause I do get,
it will never last.
I was born of ice,
frozen, cold, and blue.
I am a burden of frost,
a very bitter one, too.
A man of lost love.
A man of lost friends.
My companions die
as my life never ends.
I was born of rage,
war, cruelty, and hate.
That never really changes
once I regenerate.
In this war I face,
I'm a truly lost soldier.
But, you see, I won.
The Time War is over.
Once you have seen me
I will never be a blur.
For my true name is lost,
so just call me The Doctor
Here we are together,
i feel your heartbeat close to mine.
Our sweet laughter becomes one,
just the same as the starry July sky & the blazing summer sun.
When i get cold you wrap me in your arms,
& quickly take me away from all the worlds harms.
You walk me home like the gentlman you are,
then you kiss me beneath the the moon & the stars.
It's getting late & your mom expects you home,
you kiss me one more time & it's time for you to go.
You leave me standing there all alone,
but the feeling follows me all the way home.
Even when you're not close,
between our two heartbeats i feel yours the most.
I am lost in your beautiful brown eyes,
even though im staring at the big blue summer sky.
In a parallel world
we're still together...
hand in hand;
we never walked apart...
and you never died.
But there are no parallel worlds I know of...
and you're gone,
ashes to ashes
my hand swings empty
and living devoid of your eyes.