Should I not cut grass
or ****, taking lives only
trying to get sun?

©  2017 Jim Davis

It slapped me
so hard
that it shook
the darkness
out of my sadness
and the apathy
out of my routine

It slapped me
so hard
that it awoke me
from my nightmares
and took me to daydreams
that float outside my
window fabricating
fantasies only to
entertain my
mind on a boring
afternoon

The fan is on, the lights have gone, I sit and contemplate the dawn
I woke at four with sheets unkempt, and lay a while in the gloom
And, lying pond’ring what I'd dreamt, remained in limbo in my room

The fan is on, the lights have gone, I sit and contemplate the dawn
I rolled my neck, and as I lay, I heard a whipbird’s lashing call
As sundry different shades of day embossed the fissures in my wall

The fan is on, the lights have gone, I sit and contemplate the dawn
From out the window sun rays peek, to heat, with sweeping hand, the eaves
Up! ‘Round the radiant beams I sneak, to chase the cool my shadow leaves

The fan is on, the lights have gone, the schedules and the blinds are drawn
A breeze now beckons through the door, a-rustling my curtain, kind,
And fills the room with petrichor, ephemeral and unconfined

The fan is on, the lights have gone, I rub my eyes, and stretch, and yawn
The gentle breeze begins to sough as sultry does the weather grow
And magpies on the wattle’s bough blend songs with crickets down below

The fan is on, the lights have gone, a sparrow flits upon my lawn
The iridescent dew breaks free and turns to mist above the knoll
A summer’s breath, a gentle plea; a panacea for the soul

The fan is on, the lights have gone, I sit and contemplate the dawn

The plot of dirt has vines growing
But the rain drowns them again.
In the water, the leaves dance lazily,

waving, the pool floods over the broken
sidewalk, kissing my feet
I rush through.

The sky gives me a coat of mist
And I hug myself tighter
Wishing I could sleep.

Don't live like a king,
For it can be taken away.
Lazy work,
Never fully pays.
Why then do we act like we'll exist forever?
When crowns can be taken,
Rules bent to our pleasure.
Kingdoms can be burned down,
A fools mind ignorant.
For their folly will be exposed,
As their noise is incoherent.
So don't live like a king,
With riches a plenty.
When you don't have any there,
Lest become a tragic setting.
We learn much is to be found,
From an experience to comprehend.
Living like a king,
Will hurt you in the end.

I stare into the clouded night sky
That shines the light of the sun on the clouds
Via the moon that orbits the Earth
Continuously
Round and round
Held in by
Just the right amount
Of gravity.
Nothing more,
Nothing less.

I am the moon
That moves on continuously
Seeking something more
But spending time frivolously.
Not moving forward
Or backward
But
Riding a course almost effortlessly
Weighing the balance of my course
On the moment and not
Resisting the force of the Earth.

I am the Earth
Attracting nothing useful to myself
Losing my health exponentially
My skin scars grow deeper
With the pollution of the bacteria
Ever multiplying
Not even their deaths diminishing
The pain of my barrier being torn
By my internal conflict
And I...
Just float.
Orbiting a greater body than I.

I am the sun
Feeling not the heat that is embedded
Within me
I question
If I can really feel anymore
Even though my skin is warm
My core still fusing,
Beating,
Emotions clashing within me
So much so that my body
Distances its core
From the surface
And I forget to worry
If...
I expand so far
And then collapse
Into myself
And become a void
******* in emotions
Numbly
Because I lost what was left of me.

I am the universe
Full of mystery
Full of dark shades
And galaxies plenty
Many planets,
Stars and satellites
That whirl and whirl
Into sight
Or disappear in a black hole.
I am the universe
That continues to expand
Stretching
Straining
Out of hand
Continuing on
Because I can
And this universe
This body is not mine
I cannot end it
At least,
It has not expended enough
To implode
Nor do I want it to
By the will that subconsciously
Remains within me.

You are the almost-silent
of my coffee-stained summer.
You are the clear and tender
plucking of guitar strings
on a lazy afternoon;

With sunlight streaming through
the painted window,
just bright enough to fill the room
but gentle enough to fall asleep to;

with the smell of everything we love—
caffeine and chocolate and banana muffins—
seemingly coursing through our veins
with every breath we take;

with the daydream of
what-could-be lingering
in the haze, in the silence
it sits,
it waits.

I proceed to the only thing
I know how to do
at this hour of day:
I stare at the cars passing by,
all the while wishing
I was staring at you instead.