What If...
Small rickety boat, buoyant along the clean blue
Waters, past the glinting light, bouncing, rippling
Falling deep deep deep. Down.
An abyss in a chasm in an uncertain universe
You ask me “what if?”
You ask me once, twice, a thousand times.
Haunt me, take my food, my breath, my will
Till I am nothing but the echoing question

I consume elixirs of hope, peace,
Calm Magnesium, no Ashwagandha, no.
Greyscale silhouettes pass through me
Sharks carrying neon billboards in a sea of dark
Unfathomable, a complex complex
You ask me “what if?”

In the bouts of this limerence I know,
Not what you will ever feel towards me
But that you will force my head underwater
With every gasping breath I am forever lost.
What if... What if... What if...

point.
triangle.
center,
of the universe.
spellbound syllables
reverberations
from the base
of the spine
three snakes
kundalini shakti
transcending
past the granthis
electric current
At the top of my head
losing control
eyes closing
into the bliss of nothingness

A strange satisfaction
Almost obsessive-compulsive
Ordering them, left to right
On a perfect color scale.

I remember the day they came in the mail
And the day(s) they fell apart
Lost in the bottom of my backpack
My hands full. Unable to move
Hoping nothing would crush them.

And that day in sociology
When one tiny white cap
Rolled away
Leaving me to spend my day
Searching under a sea of legs
Just so I would have precious purple
To blend with my blues and pinks.

Don’t **** the messenger
That is what people say,
And this is for them,
My messengers
The path from my thoughts to the world
They contain the color that encompasses my soul
My talent, my skin, my bones
My daily companion
My therapist
My smarts, my dreams
Sixteen tubes,
The pressure is on.

A little boy sailing boats
Glowing lanterns in starless skies
A thousand balloons
Pulling the long lost Titanic
From underwater.
I dream to inspire hope
In those who seem to have lost sight.
Leave a powerful image in the mind
Change a bad day into a good one

Sixteen tubes, 2 inches tall
Sixteen tubes,
Life without them
Would be awfully dull

It was Donna Darling’s annual dinner party
A Cotillion approved eatery
Six spoons and six forks
The wrong one, and all the glares one bore
And then waddled in Miss Pillsbury
Her stumpy feet too short to
Do anything but waddle
Uninvited she was
As she always was
Squelching her way
through the narrow doorway.
As fourteen perfectly styled heads
Shuffled their feet under the table.

Boom! Clash!
Six spoons crashing
Six forks attacking
Poor old lady Judith’s knee
As she groaned in pain.
Donna scratching her head
Eyes darting through her invite list
Top-to-bottom, Top-to-bottom
Screech! Went the chair,
Scratching Donnas hand polished marble floors
Like nails on a chalkboard.

Oh, and what she did next,
Almost sent Donna to her upstairs bedroom
To pop some unprescribed ******
As the stout woman grabbed soup
with her chubby hands
And started gulping it down
Before it ran through her fingers.

Frazzled Donna tried, oh she tried
To salvage the integrity
Of her fancy dinner party
Unfortunately, at the moment
it was running down the table
From Miss Pillsbury’s double chin.
Swooosh! Went old lady Judith
As she skated across the marble
Like an Olympic figure skater
Only to crash into Donna’s perfectly organized
stainless steel kitchenware.

Donna ran out screaming and crying
Nobody’s seen her since.
And as for Miss Pillsbury,
I’d be surprised if she noticed any of it

Fireflies

Over Somerset Hill
An hour past the new day
My father took my hand
“Don't you tell your mother about this”
He whispered
Beaming smile in dark night
The old wooden canoe
Transported us across
The rippling waters reflecting
The starlit sky

Little footsteps followed the large footsteps
Tall, strong, in front of me
Blanketed by the comfort of his shadow,
Cast in the presence of gracious moonlight
In the depths of the foliage
Father sat me down next to him
“Be silent”, “Wait for them”

As the breeze picked up the withered leaves
On their journey through the night
I had reached the end of mine.
For there were millions
Millions of blessed souls
Glowing like jeweled specks of light
Encircling my father and I
Outlining every leaf and flower
In what appeared to be pure gold.

It was a moment of clarity.
Eyes open to the ideals of virtue
And the invaluable life in every single one
Of the brilliant creatures that surrounded me.
I found myself staring at the man beside me
In complete awe
Filled with the utmost gratitude to be witnessing what I was

I watched father walk away
Far into the distant night
Never turning back
Until it was just me, and the fireflies.

Mother once said to use Sage
To dissipate every deformed stranger
To an incredible ounce of nothingness
I needed it now.
For the silent intruder created unseen footprints
In the aged, varnish-stained floors
He was pale and cloaked
A frequent intruder trampling my mind.
With no restraint, destruction.
I stole father’s lighter
Without his permission, ignoring the consequences
The red-orange embers engulfed the slender herb
Exhaling smoke that encompassed
Every inch of the old room
Tapestry on the walls
Ancient calligraphy pained, stained
As his face appeared to me…(startled)

Fingers weakened, letting go
Letting the sage spread its embers aglow
The tapestry ribbed, shredded,
Beauty destroyed by the good flame.
Doors locked and windows unopened
Just me, in the old room
Two beings died that night.

High on the tree branch
At midnight
In the eerie silence
She starts singing
Like never heard before.