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Michael Blonski Oct 2016
There's my father
sitting on the couch
slowly dying
slowly falling
into
modern traps

End table is
covered with snack bar
wrappers
Can of cheap beer
but at least he used a coster

There's my father
watching the TV
Feeling life never
gave him his chance
his break

Left behind in the wake
of that which he did
not create

Pictures of the past placed
on the wall behind him
A monument of a life
that's not what it seems

There's my father
Absorbed in reruns and
political commentary

This couch is his coffin
This house, his cemetery

There's my father
that role model of mine
lost within his failures
static in time
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
My heart floats on a turbulent salty sea
Drifting towards a whirlpool
Ready to devour me

Pulling me in as I sink down
Feeling the weight of heavy water
Forced to kneel at the sacred crown

I want to escape and I feel bright light
But no matter how hard I pull
These shackles pull tight

I can remember those happy days
The simple pleasures of youthful bliss
Kissing the sweetness
Of pre-earthly decay

Stolen hours of what I cherish
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
To see something beautiful,
must you first see ugliness?

Before you can be at peace,
must you first suffer?

In order to feel alive,
must a part of you die?

Or can we learn from
the trials of the past
exists
in a blissful state
from first breath
to our last?
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
Have you ever sat
and thought of a long
lost
love?

Day dreaming of
what
they're currently
doing? What they're seeing?

Maybe, they're kissing
their new love

Or

Maybe, they're just
washing dishes from
last nights roast

Or

Maybe, they're
just sitting there
Holding a photo
of you

Letting out a little smirk
with a mild chuckle
at the awkward looking
teenage couple  

Remembering what it was like
to brush your hair with
their fingers

The softness of your cheeks
before your
scratchy beard invaded

How it didn't matter
that it was 3am
You were going to count
the stars

When we didn't argue
over this stupid election
The only direction we moved
was the furthest from
reality

But,
eventually we were caught
and time pulled us
to our current state

Holding photographs
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
Am I the brick
that smashes glass?
Fountain of shards
spray
Like the paint I used
to write your name

Elegant curves and
black bold lines
dripping wet
with sharp highlights

This wall will
serve as a reminder
of the day
A testament of time
where we came to kneel
before textured
skin

Stand defiant before
opposition
wipe the blood
off our hands
as shards begin
to
spray
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
To be vulnerable
like a mouse caught by
its tail
dangling
pendulum swing
side to side

with a predator's eyes
shifting, following, with the swinging
motion

Enjoying the ride
as it might be the last taste
of wind
the last pull of gravity
the final view of color

No longer dreaming of tomorrow
existing for the moment of today
Celebrating the joy of
feeling the universe as I sway

There is no fear
only gratitude
for consciences
and beginning of anew
Michael Blonski Oct 2016
We're so busy collecting
pieces to construct ourselves
we find them when we travel to
the far
reaches of our horizons

And we find them within
the confines of our
walled shelters

glued with motor from
events that unfold
adhere to our bones  
flowing memories
blooming

A field of wildflowers
of memories and ideas
Tragedy and tribulation
heart warming and
heartache

Our mosaic souls
always searching
for pieces

Memories we give
Memories we take
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