...... my memories get fuzzy
As life pushes buttons easy as operating a microwave
In warming up
a midnight snack real blueberry pie
And there in the Stark lights
Of my Barren land my kitchen table
I am able
To be trans ported
To those vans
That early life awarded night skies
When youth afforded
And we reined Supreme
like wild horses
Free to roam - free to be before the calamities
Absorbed it all
Down... To the bones

I didn't cry
As we said goodbye toss and turn
and gently weep
Should I fail to fall right off to sleep
Or endeavor to sever any sense of remourse rising up... along
the course of my day should I see
the extra key
now hung on the hook, or a stray ...
paperback book
as I put up ...that...now
extra coffee cup  
or anything else
that seems out of place designed
to leave the trace
of a tear down my face nor have I felt any sense of dread concerning that
half empty bed
Consciously choosing to fall asleep
on the couch
or recliner instead
nor have I felt any nostalgic bite
when rolling over
in the chill of the night finding no one there
to cling to
I do not choke up
when I read or hear the same phrases
or words
used elsewhere
That was said
between ....us
as we broke up  
no driving miles
out of my way
or checking my emails  over and over each day no practice calls creating phrases looking for
the right words  
not one of these things has brought any tears any pain
but I'm crying now ...as I'm realizing how unfair it is to see
by what I just shared how little I must have cared....
...... that truly makes me sad!

Sometimes
I feel old and faded
derelict and degraded
overly saturated corrugated cardboard left all alone...out in
the rain too long  
or dry and brittle curling up ..creating
a bowl-like middle
adding to the strain like it really matters that that then gathers more dust...more lint
And those
now earth-bound vagabonds
whose time came
and then went
drifters
passing through
as they always do when they ... the fallin
the no longer needed the no longer wanted  disavowed
no longer allowed
to hang around
And so apropos
The way leaves go
wherever the wind may choose to blow them to
always a few ...who find shelter
out of ....the vagaries
of the wind and in
that shallow bowl
I formed
Then like it or not
they may stay ...
Hidden away
catching more
of those infinitesimal
all but invisible particulates
as they pass our way
so you might say
we form a bond
a compilation
a strange mutation
Imbibing
longer and longer
those times
of total saturation
the very manifestation  
what one may describe as a little tribe...that by the weight of fate
and our bonded state we hunker down
here to stay
upon
this piece of ground
And together we start each doing their part
to speed us on
Upon our way
to our future of decay and yes ..its true
I once felt so..
overly saturated
cursing
the corrugated
the very way
that I was created
bemoaning how
I had faded
But in the end
I did not die alone
I did not die
we ...
did not totally decay nor did we fade away we found life
and meaning when
this little tribe found that we were bound
This little mound
To be
Exactly what
all these lost derelicts
These young seeds.......needs
to create life
And to give  
Color to reason
And a new season
To live ....life.
And in a way ...to
Find salvation in decay.

Half the room
it does consume
One half the bond
Within the tomb
Lies quiet amid
all light now gone
silent is ...
what now does loom
Over
what now remains anon
Unaware?  would not
presume to assume
Or to lay measure of
or in way of thought
upon naught
For none know what abides the womb
That within
the paranorm
of any paragon
Just what may pass between
the illum of light
Or the inate
whims of fate
As a form....once torn
Again becomes
one baby born
all norm and warm  and a petrified mass that accepted
The fact
that a lack of room inside the womb
would mean a tomb
for one
or a tomb for two
Then did
what.....
it had to do!

How nice it would be
if all Beauty was free and homesteads
were home to all
no honking horns or voice raised issuing rampant scorns
to pass unfiltered through the innocent ears of children
but then again... nothing is perfect except for..
. maybe thunder
for it is the loud,  proud voice of perfection
rolling or booming never assuming to be what it is not
like the voice of God
As it was described in those scriptures told
in the verses of old
so with each clap
Of lightning created sound
we either jump or smile
As we know it brings
A needed refrain
of nourishing rain

there is nothing sweeter than
walking in the rain
of autumn
for the leaves paint
the ground all around and happiness abounds
it's a promise of relaxing winter husband starting fires both of heat and desires
While mother share secrets with daughters both shoulds and  not aughters  ha!
But such is the way it has been
from time immortals very beginning
and should continue to be
as long as....
God's Great Earth keeps on spinning !

What comes from those meandering thoughts
those sinister plots
that circumvent
all the effort that had been spent
creating naught but verbal rot
and  seditious dissent
bought
by consistent repetition
of thoughts never spoken
and statements never meant
of pressures applied
until all reason is bent
what forces the changing courses
of rivers, realities and those minds....when
 allowing up to define down
or out to equate in
such are the vagaries
plaguing the World As We Know It
yet we seem to descend
into the deepest..... darkest...
.... season of treason
our history has yet to record
no one has the wealth
or knowledge to ever afford
what it would cost
to buy back all that's lost
if all that exists
becomes Lost In The Mists
of times Eternal March
and we become the total sum
of nothing more than some hollow-core
experiment
that came and went
from grand and great
to an untimely fate
by so many who denied
that truth is self-evident
letting those who lied
. decide
what truth is or isn't ...
..to be accepted
and to be applied
when alternate facts are nonexistent
yet absolute
once they take root
Allowed to grow out of control
destroying the very foundation
that supported what started out
as ...
history and humanities
greatest creation.

,, when I find no ground
Beneath my feet
I know that I am
Totally incomplete
So I hover here
Invisible-  to everyone
Even to myself I know
So I can't decide what to do
Or which way to go
Because there is…
... No direction
When everything looks the same
Can't be lost
Can't be found
I can not open up
You cannot shut me down
I can't find my way back
Or even move ahead
Can't remember the last thing I heard
Or the last thing that I said

There's no religion
No mantras echoing in my head
way down deep inside
Not even a buzzing sound
To remind me that I'm alive
No places to run away from
Or even to run to

No answers to the questions
That I don't even have
No place I need to be
Or distances I need to go
No guiding hand to lead me
Along the invisible Trail
No cheering crowds ...
…...encouraging me to win
Nothing to measure…
… the degree to which I fail

I live in limbo
Suspended in a warp of time
As erratic as I am static
Getting further and further
away from what
Once I was supposed to be
Even though I really know
I'm a million little pieces of me
Moving at the speed of light

, even though I really know
That I am here suspended
In this uncomfortable chair
So long now I have
hovered here
Can't feel my body
Can't feel my legs
Everything has gone to sleep
, Eyes Wide Open as I
Fall into the deep
Burning down and I'm burning out
Like a lit and derelict cigarette
As I keep  scattering little pieces of me
All over the world…
... By way of the internet

I am totally incomplete!