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  Oct 2017 betterdays
Where Shelter
an average human creature should such a mythical exist
in a lifetime will celebrate about 2,200,000,000 heartbeats,
billions of heartbeats per minute (I prefer moment)
but like everything so essence human there are
those very few heartbeat moments,
the ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime
that you total truly remember,
recalling the cream and sauce,
swell and the hell,
of the pounding so slow so hard,
each one a volcano of
a moment until that day
you don't remember-anything

when she said yes and you're shaking and beating in a
*****-tonk rhythm cause you were heart undressed unsure
and truly afraid of a rejection that makes a heart stoppage
disallowing visions, to be exponentially happy future imagined

you're feeling your heartbeat
in your knees going weak,
when the doctor says:

congratulations healthy swell
and/or
some years later,
I'm so so truly sorry, hell

when they hand you a long handle shovel no instructions needed and that scoop of earth weighs two tons and the sound of slow reverb in your head hurts like hell and you lack the strength to move and they move you aside quiet gentle like
but inside the temple of the two headed hydra-heart,
it's the rock and roll of slo mo, the violin crying, the drumming of
heavy metal chords plucked so slowly, it's you froze screaming

a billionaire of heartbeats you are,
but only ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime
you total truly remember with the perfect clarity and
forever renders into your own unique orchestral symphony,
your true net worth, the stripes you wear
upon your shoulders skin,  
the tune when you hear it and melts you into rigidity

you fall to your knees wherever you are,
that is where you will find me,
just listen for the cars horns blaring
cursing the man lying in the street, re-listening to
ten or twenty maybe forty heartbeats total in a lifetime

you alone total truly that concert set recall and
the win-loss record inherent, inhiment,
in both of them, tears and the rents, all there in the tunes,
of forty beatings you took,
somehow it feels like here is, there was,
the answers to
where is shelter for the heart,
the answers that have gone and come and gone and someone says,

I don't feel a pulse
what reading poetry is truly about: the endangered art of listening well,, a sustained exercise in empathy.
betterdays Oct 2017
moths blatter against the 40 watt light of
the midnight sun, the softest of deaths,
all need, wings and fairy dust, in the dawns light
become their requiem, the dustpan their hearse
as they become tidbits for the hungry koi sharks
betterdays Oct 2017
small but fierce
comes to mind

three feet and a bit
of restless energy

hair so blonde and fine
it resembles spun cotton

eyes deep blue

and a mouth that moves
non-stop, with questions,
observations and affirmations

the thinness of her is that
that happens with a growth spurt

she walks trippingly, the line
between grace and gawkiness

she brings with her curiousity,
positivity and  a huge bouquet
of daisy's

my heart leaps, when she smiles
this little bit of strangeness

so used to the male child
the feminine is unfamilar

the small arms encircle me
and squeeze love into my soul

and the laughter, that tinkles
from her lips lights up the room

she is come, she is come
a visit from my god daughter.... about elevenish....all energy and love
betterdays Oct 2017
it will be alright
my child
it will be fine
in time

things
will go your way
sometimes
and then
somtimes
life will be difficult

but love is like water
and given tim will smooth
the roughest of edges
and when it rains it
will bring the hidden joys
to light like flowers
in the sandy dessert

it will be alright....
but for now, cry my child
and seed the new growth
betterdays Oct 2017
is
is my truth yours
perhaps for a nano second
when we meet in the middle
of the burning bridge
on which we stand

is my truth universal
at death, at birth
mayhaps we see
the truth the same

is my truth mine
yes and no, in so much that
the intereaction of multitudes
dilute the same, creating
ripples and waves
that create convex and concave
versions of the truth

is my truth, but a game
with out scores or winners
but continual substitions

is my truth sane
on a good day, there is
a semblance  of sincerity
on a bad day there is
a rambling tour of my reality
betterdays Oct 2017
was
was a time when
hills were mountains
rivers small trickling streams
towering trees, dormant seeds

was a time when
skies were clear of smoke
seas plentiful of whales and fish
the planets skin unmarked by greed

was a time when
life was hard but some how simpler
when you knew your neighbor, perhaps
even the whole block or town
when kids played til twilight and came
home to doors unlocked and books to read

when the most you borrowed with out great thought
was a cup of sugar or the neighbors saw
was a time, when courtesy was a given
and kindness was common

was a time....there was a time....almost a lifetime ago
thinking on the changes in perception and custom....
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