Leaves falling from the trees.
As the Autumn winds,
Put the children down to sleep.
As children's mothers stay awake.
Singing to the the children,
Trying to get them to hibernate.
But alas one child doesn't sleep.
For his mother isn't there.
His mother is asleep in her old rocking chair.
He go's to her room.
She is not there...
He checks the house, outside, and all,
But his mother isn't there.
He goes into the woods...
To find her dead.
In her old Mothers Day rocking chair.
He didn't cry.
He just stared.
Thinking, "How could this be fair?"
For tomorrow is Mothers Day.
But he has no mother.
To love and care.

I fill myself with people
and beds
and long conversations
and connection
there is a girl
the shallow shell
of who I once was
the half of me
filled with
melancholy
she's always trying
to liven up
and warm
her dull eyes

eating people whole
enjoying until it spoils
why do I always
make
          things
                      spoil
so quickly?  


I recall a story
of a nameless monster
he too
ate people whole
ending up always
needing
more
each person
could not fill
the hunger
of emptiness
but in the end
he ate
his other half

I have realized
you cannot fill your suffering
with people
for they rot
digest into grains of sand
and you end up empty
once again
maybe if I swallow
my sadness I
could be full

maybe sadness isn't cold
maybe it is the only heat
that would hold
these worn bones
maybe it is only cold
until you accept it

maybe then I would look
a little more warm
a little more lively

My girlfriend's girlfriends
Have a friend,
     Whom
They demurely refer to as:
      Bob.
He's ever-ready,
Like the bunny,
Current, never late;
And yet he'll never
Ever date.

He's no fireman,
Or a cop,
More Chippendale -
They say he's hot.
He's not needy,
He's out to please,
From what they say,
He likes to tease.
He's not a boy,
He's not a toy.

Later, when the deed is done,
He's not one to kiss and run.
He's the Alpha
And Omega,
He's the cause
Of their hysteria.

Bob surely has a way.

And should the girls
Play hard to get,
Bob's not one
To sit and fret:
And should the girls
Still want to play,
They replace
Two Double A's.

~


I saw soft eyes on the promise fueled sunset
Coffee dark skies in a marmalade blush
Pastels now tinted of wayward decisions
Meadowlarks sing in a smooth whispered hush

Corn field desires drain simplistic notions
Run with me there down the row ever straight
Listen,  our hearts speak in feathered emotions
Love stands to prove it is never too late

People always say
That crime Don't Pay
But there are always
Those who try to beat it

A Guy Named Stan thought
He was the Man with the Plan
All he needed was the  guy to
Bypass the Electric Alarms

He looked up an old Buddy
Someone he could trust
Once the Alarm was dead
There was a Back door to bust

Sitting waiting was a Companies
Payroll over Thirty Grand
They Pried open the Safe
And got what was at Hand

Stan kneeled and passed
the Money to his Buddy
Holding onto The Sack
Glad the Guy had his back

As he looked up from the Safe
Square into the Barrel of a Gun
Stan knew the plan was done
The Crack of a .32 took his life

As he Lie there Bleeding
From a Bullet in his Neck
He thought he had all the Cards
But there was a Joker in the Deck


All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack