Chained to these walls
I can see only the shadows
The fire gives light to these dark silhouettes
I call them by their names
Puppets, people, or books.
They're  my company and must be real.
I perceive only what I see.
Silhouettes and shadows that are real to me.
I force myself to turn
My shackles are tight
I embrace the company of  my companions
Puppets, people, and books.
I know them by no other names.


Inspired by The Allegory of The Cave

Friendship when school ends is like the leaves of a tree:

Spring begins, trees filled with healthy green leaves,
As does friendships within the year.

Summer is the end.
You fill the leaves with hope,
You love these leaves,
You've always intended to keep contact,
But inevitably, Time does change.

And Autumn comes,
And these leaves that previously you had so dearly loved
Start to fade away.
You didn't intend on this,
You were so eager to keep in touch,
But people change, as do leaves.
The once vibrant green you had known and loved
Transform into an ugly unfamiliar brown,
As you desperately cling to these leaves,
Hoping for them to stay this beautiful green you once knew.
Soon you are just standing around these empty trees
That were once so familiar to you,
But now around you all these dead leaves.

Then it's Winter,
And these leaves slowly fade away
Behind blankets of white,
Never to be seen again.
And you just stand there, surrounded by nothingness.
Cold and alone.

I once read that
there is a wrinkle in time and
ever since I've sought to
parse out the clock's seconds and
feel every whisper of wind on
my skin and
sneak glances at sunrises through
blinds and
taste snowflakes and rainstorms and
wrinkle my nose at
good and bad smells in
Time's wrinkle and
gaze at moonlight twinkle.

Give a man a room
With a bed and an endless kitchen
And a door and a window
And he will live in the room
He may go outside often
But he will always come back
And maybe
In time
He'll bring back new things
And he'll add to the room

Take away the door
And he might stay in for months
Before he can't take it anymore
And climbs out the window
Never to return

Take away
The window and then door
And the man
Failing to break through the walls
Will either
Tear up the room with graffiti and flames
Or
Resign himself to a corner for weeks

Either way, he will destroy himself
If he has not way out

So it only makes sense
To give the man
A windows and a door
And to have a little faith in him
As he meets the world

careful I was, not to step on the ants
on the trail--a red commando column, carrying crumbs
to their busy mound, on auto pilot  

feet from their hidden queen, a felled oak,
infested with termites, gorging themselves
on its dying flesh, a cellulose feast  

one day soon, when rain carries workers
off their course, these two industrious species shall meet
and their cryptic ******* will fail  

leaving them with the choice of fight or flight;
the former will prevail, for they can run but never hide,
from treachery that comes from so deep inside

raindrops dimple the pond
fishes near the surface snap at them
expecting red reward

those in the depths, bellies
barely above the silt, rest easy,
ignoring the folly above

when the heavens grow restless
and pound the pool with hail, the bottom
dwellers remain placid

unperturbed by the sky's fury
or the whipping tails of the once fanciful
who now descend to their depths

It has been almost
Two thousand
And five hundred years
Sine Plato’s cave
Spewed us out
Into an odyssey
Of light and
Philosophical
Humanity
Two and a half
Millennia
Spent clawing our way
Out of the dirt
Into this age
Of technological wonders
And now you
Want to blunder
Back in to
That cave that
Gave birth to
A new science
You want to
Take back
Evolution
And electricity
Medicines, and
Other utilities
Letting Freon
Burn a hole through
The atmosphere
That was protecting you
Letting old ideologies
Rebloom and consume
Taking the opposite
Of mushrooms
Twenty-five centuries
Till we succeed
In failing so completely
As you drag me
Back into
Plato’s cave

the sky dims dismal
over a washed-out landscape

harrowed, its holes fill furrows in the earth
and in the distance something cackles

a sound that splits the dawn
as the sun breaks over the horizon
its giant eye watchful but bleak.

a flamboyance of flamingoes and a ****** of crows
rise to the cries of battle on the moor
and nature's drums of war
beat a tattoo doomed
to eternally repeat.

and in the distance something crackles

the sun has turned to fire;
a spark
lies empty on the hollow ground
depleted of breath, it fades to ember
but then
but then

something startles it awake
the smallest of stirrings
for that is all it needs
and out of the crumbling darkness
the spark hurls itself
setting alight the expanse around it
and in the distance something burns.

It is 1:20 am
And I am at 7%
And I have only one bar of signal
And my screen tells me
"Reconnecting..."
                                
                              I'm 93% done with 'us;'
                              You have drained each per cent of my patience.
                              I'm getting mixed signals
                              From the language of your body,
                              And very few at that.
                              But I take a chance on us,
                              Another chance,
                              At this hour of lateness,
                              Maybe we can rebound and re-bond
                              And not just reminisce.
                              I reckon we could
                              Reconnect.

Nobody’s home
Your loud desperate knocks fall silent on empty hallways
Echoing off the closed up doors and windows
Nobody’s home
You try again
One knock, two knocks, three
Growing more desperate as you try to see if someone’s home
But everything falls silent
The echoes dyeing within seconds
No footsteps coming to greet you at the door
Nobody’s home
Your attempts fall flat as they reach the battered up hallway
But the sound doesn’t reach much further
The dog doesn’t bark
The cat doesn’t dare make a single step
Nobody’s home
Now the knocks become louder and louder
More desperate as you try to hear something more than unanswered echoes
Louder and louder
Drawing the snooping neighbours in
Peeping over their tall fences trying to see if you’ll be let in
Starting whispered discussions wondering why you are there
Are you there to collect money?
A cup of sugar or something more?
Their conversations staying quiet
Their ears stay open seeing if they can hear one more desperate knock
Money passed around the fences
Betting on what you came for
Coming to collect a long lost child?
Or just saying hello?
None of these neighbours will ever know
But their ears stay open
Their mouths begin to close as they hear one last desperate knock
A knock that yet again falls silent on empty hallways
Echoes bringing back the sounds of what was
And what will never be
A knock that brings back years of memories
You’ve heard this before
And yet here you are standing at her door waiting to hear it once more
One last knock for the crazy desperate man
Now he knows that nobody is home
There won’t be footsteps there to answer him
The dog won’t bark
The car won’t awake to see what’s happening
But he knocks again
Bringing back the wave of memories
Trying once more to smell the sweet smell of her
Cookies on a cold day
The smell of a sprinkler on full blast on the hot ones
The touch of her
Her face
Her face that not for one day has left his memory
Every day he remembers her
Remembering what once was
And what will never be
And he does that happily
For he knows now that his desperate knocks will only echo back silence
Bouncing on walls and doors that should be his
Polished door handles
Immaculate house
That fluffy dog to greet him when he comes home
The neighbours begin to leave
There’s nothing much more to see here
Something much more interesting must be happening on TV
Money is handed back and conversation falls quiet
Doors slamming, windows banging, kids shouting
Sounds that used to be so familiar are now distant memories
The man takes in one last breath
A soft knock
A quiet knock
So he can know that he did not leave without a fight
He turns and spins and decides to leave
Nobody’s home
That what he thought
Until he saw a car pull in
A car that just may let him in