The void
Or the scowl.

Are you sure you know which you’d pick.
When the right hand that feeds you,
Succulent wisdom,
While the left hand kills the next breed.

You see the void on sundays,
in time that is only passing seconds.
in moments where you scream silently.
When precious life is the cold bone you hold.
Down the path you walk, you long to be led.

Submission
Is the game for so long,
Catch a ball, avoid a fall
Until you chase it when rolls
Off the edge
And you follow it in faith
Rather than in fear
Keeping your white collar near.

If we shut our eyes
Closed our ears
Grabbed ahold
And followed our hearts
Where would we be
And who would we be there with

The eyes that follow.
Down the hall I deeply swallow.
Is something trying to hurt me?
What are they trying to tell me?
The eyes that follow just beyond my bedroom door.
Do I dare to follow in horror?
I feel dizzy.
Quick has something stricken me?
The phantom questions that are neither seen nor heard.
I dare to question every spoken word.
Am I among the living?
What am I seeing?
Apparitions appear to me.
They are sending a message apparently.
They infiltrated my mind, body, and soul.
I used to take refuge in my home.
Now everything seems different.
Tell me who or what sent this.
My body has been taken over.
All I hear or see my system can not recover.
The eyes that follow have not released me.
Now my feet have hit the ground fleetingly.
As I try to flee.
The eyes that follow so evenly.
I have finally made it out.
The eyes that follow will they ever find out?

and the tomorrow

will it be any different ?

a thousand year old
constellation crashing
down after a billion years of spring

will it be coherent ?

when the dust fades
and the smoke travels back
deep within,

will it be transparent ?

the sky and the moon
the sun and the monsoon
the love forever and the gloom

though it's only september
i can see another december
beyond the pines- behind the doom

blossoming, in love with the fall
as i sit and contemplate the dark,
that has engulfed this room,

the kid must die,
and the kid is dead

so kiss him good-bye
before he loses his head

put him to sleep
i know he wants to rest
and dream his life away.

the seed must unfold into
a forest, lest the barren tides
will sweep all away; in ways.


metamorphosis can happen
tomorrow, always.


so, let the kid die;
and the kid is dead.

Alone
yet also not alone
'It's Complicated'
the statement of choice.

I don't want complicated,
who really does?
But like it or not
that's what this is.

One man,
one man for me
to give my love
I made this choice in you.

One woman,
one woman for you
to give you love.
Make that choice in me.

What we have is something good
so take my hand.
Who knows where this will lead
but I want to follow.

Take your spot on the car lot
Vehicles shiny, polished, pressed, and folded
Folded into an ideal
Of how the family of four is transported
Of how the newlyweds expand their space
For her belly will expand
And the mister better break Miss Piggy
But the new cars don't know what's coming

War veterans, most certainly mini-vans
Can attest to the inevitable stink stains
Dog slobbers
Dirt
Or maybe that's a big pile of no. 02
Praying it's not baby Jack's (he may eat it)
Soccer practice transport
School bus escort
Spy mobile on baby's first date

Finally, the key and fob is passed
Passed ceremonially to the firstborn
Slayed the piggy again
This time for "I got a driving teen" insurance
Enough to save the firstborn in her new (to her) ride
Not enough to save the stop sign
Or the tree
Or poor Miss Jones's cat

But through some elbow grease
Quality marketing
And precious time
She's back on the lot in the "used" section
"But don't worry folks she is only lightly used"
Coos the dealer
One thing for sure
This van isn't miniature anymore

© 2018
Brandi Keaton