There is freedom in isolation,
in being idle and invisible,
where one could sit in muteness,
swim widely in dusk and ask,
"Am I really here,
if no one is around to see?"
A different kind of suicide

There is pleasure in being a shadow,
in pretending you don't exist,
to avoid acting like you do

Solitude isn't a time for me
to let myself free
but rather a time to free myself
from who I am

Outside the confinement of company,
I am anyone and anything,
I am someone else, somewhere else
I am alive,
but I am no one
I am alone

a.r.

Winter sunrise on my last and longest day,

wrap me in a winding sheet of flaming orange

take the reds and pinks from midnight blue to make my shroud

let me rest in heaven fire

drown my tired soul in colour

drinking the final carnival

warmth for my bones,

a funeral of skies and wonders

At a desk, coffee sachets rest.
Long-life milk harbours
white dreams of expiry.
Shuffling in his forgetful nest
a grey man blinks
at the intruding light.

Americo, do you remember
your antique power,
that opened like a rose
on the walls of Hiroshima?

Mom, you know I need you
When things get out of hand,
And my day-to-day is stretching like
A frayed old rubber band, and
My patience wears and crumbles,
And I think I’m on the brink, and
It’s time for ‘Hokie Pokie’ on the
Roller skating rink;
Then you tell me,
“Put your whole self in, and
Shake it all about,” and
I can see you smiling, and I can
See you have no doubt that
Life will turn out, somehow, maybe
Not the way I planned, and that
There might just be a bit more stretch
In that frayed old rubber band, but
Even if it snaps, and life breaks loose, and
My skates end pointing toward the sky,
I know you’re there to help me up
And give it one more try.
Mom you know I need you….
Phil Lindsey, May 7, 2017

Jutted out square jaw,
horse gruff voice,
Smoky Bear Campaign
Hat pulled low almost
covering his intense
glaring eyes. Hat Brim
slung rakishly low,
three regulation fingers
above the bridge of his nose.

Criticizing profanities
hurled from his mouth
like exploding grenades,
tongue lashing orders
and corrections his
stock and trade.

Everything about
him is tight and
fully squared away.

Gets in your face
so close you can
smell what he had
for lunch, barking
spraying projectile
spittle that standing
at rigid attention you
cannot wipe away.

Hard earned lessons
taught and learned
that last for a life time.

Tormentor, teacher
mentor, hated at first,
respected and loved
by the end.

Her kindness outshines all the words
I've ever heard, makes mockery
Of all the efforts and rewards
Of soporific poetry,
Or even inspiration's spawn.
I'd give up language casually,
To lie beside her on that lawn
Believers reckon victory.
But this is not the world's release,
The dust that Genesis laid down,
When all our toils and sorrows cease.
So I'll forsake the starry crown,
For life's uncertain pilgrim's lease,
Renewed each time I see her face.

In 2019,
I want more.

Want more sunrises
More rolling out of bed with a purpose

More afternoons curled in a love seat

I want a garden
inside me and in my backyard

More friends
More nuzzles from dogs

More oceans

More allowance to make mistakes
After all, you were brave enough to try.

More stillness
More belly laughs
More love letters

More sway in my hips
Cool breeze on my lips

More looking in the mirror to see my smile
not the width of my thighs

More finding shapes in the clouds

More moments that leave me breathless

More life
All the painfully messy beautifully chaotic morsels
dripping from my chin

In 2019,
I want more.