When I die sweet child of mine will you think of me?

She sat there.
Mother of mothers, alone, isolated.
They left, all colors gone.
She had to stay here now, they decided.
We are too busy they say.
I understand.
Like in the beginning.
You’re born alone and you’ll die alone.
The former with many tears and noise,
the other with one tear in silence.
Had a busy and happy family life, a blessing it was.
I know.
But see, a beautiful creature, watching me.
An angel.
Can you believe it?
I’m talking to an angel dressed like a chicken.
But I’m grateful for everything.
I have a roof over my head
and a bed to sleep in.
I’m healthy enough.
I miss them that’s true.
I will pray for them.
Their time will come too.
We all grow old.
One day they will be me if they’re lucky enough.

Always treat the elderly with kindness and the respect they deserve.
Don’t isolate them.



Shell ✨🐚

Small cat sleeps
Lips twitch and paws run
As he dreams  lion and tiger dreams
Whilst curled into the cutest little ball of fluff in the neighborhood.

1:12:25 9:20am nyc

Exactly, how far is it to you?
this is more than mere question,
or a rhetorical poem title discard,
consider it an interrogatory of
the first order, a debate raging
with every word successfully
affixed from brain to fingertips,
from my breathing to your heart,
how far is it exactly, pray tell me,
how these cords of words find you,
are your lips bending up in a smile,
need me a weather report, air quality,
wind gusts vitals vital to yo! estimate
how fast & conditions they’ll require survive/arrive in your eyesight well
and be friended


feed me the data, Heart Rate, Blood Pressure,
SpO2, so I’ll know what condition your
condition is in, adjust my words accordingly,
send to this distance back to me awaiting,
the necessary facts & figures to provide the finger stroke directional, do you need whispers or emboldened bold face to arouse the a spirit flagging, a shoulder shaking, a dozen red lipped chords of
kisses and sweet everthings, that do not
dissolve, dissipate or disappear instantly,
but can be stored in a Ziploc bag, refrigerated,
ready for gorging and disgorging, repeatedly,
as needed, synchronized slow or hard, fast
or soft, wet or dry. sweet or salty, savory
or a blended mixture, an adjustable concoction depending
on distance, time of day,
tell me,
the stuff that you accept
with open willingness,
or just begrudgingly

all adjustable
all shaped to
your individuality
elastic flexible
but the schedule
filling up fast
so we can mutual
squeeze into each others
empire of empty

so,
Exactly, how far is it to you,
to where you are being?

If freshman year was aspirational
and sophomore year was unhinged
junior year was put up or shut up
and senior year is a dash to the finish line

This year’s on fast forward—and it’s for keeps
every to-do list has value-laden questions
things seem sharp edged, single use and intense
it’s all about trajectories and ‘landing spots”

Let’s wax poetic..

Produce now, or spend fury on thyself—all else is untenable
we’re past youth and ignorance—your honour’s at stake

Suitors call you by name, like well-acquainted friends
they took your measure—you’re beyond the mark of others
they ****** with money—the future brings liberty and noble deeds.

So don the the garland and prove thyself—take the field
join the battle—now’s the reward—aidless, perpetual toil
with every motion be right, it’s thy shunless destiny.
.
.
A song for this:
A Man of Great Promise by The Style Council
Headstart For Happiness by The Style Council

Then, there were the moments
When the air was crisp and sweet,
When you threw me funny comments
That, in truth, I failed to meet.
When the shadows of the forenoon
Shone like icicles of blue
And the mood was one of indigo
A coalescence, Love, of you.

Then there were moments
When the doubt began to seep,
Where anxiety intruded
And bled me of my sleep.
In those darkened halls of velvet
Where crimson nightmares lurk
And the horror of a memory
Where dread began its work.

But then there were the moments
Where the sunshine had its way,
Where the liquid green of leafage
In the crystal breeze would sway.
The platitudes would vanish,
Condescension's cease,
When the softened light of raindrops
Kissed your mirrored pond of Peace.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
12 January 2025

Simian, she floats aloft
Till Syme, the thin black spider, coughed,
Blasting her in spiralled flight
Into the vortex of the night...
Into that web of dark intrigue
Where friend and foe, at once, do bleed.

A Merry Christmas to you, Old Chap.
M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ

I, too, have walked your tread
Loved, lost and strode in dread,
Felt the dark intrude my soul
Yet realised, that within.... the gold
For somewhere in this wondrous world
A kiss is thrown, a flag unfurled
Forgiveness, now, in purest form
Across thy shoulders, unadorned.

My love to you, Lori.
M.