A mockingbird mocks
She hardly hears

The twinkling sound
of stars falling in her eyes

Her mind is too far away
Strayed in the light-speed
of the found and the lost

Dizzy, is she
She feels trapped
Inevitability of the universe

She is just that mockingbird
She hears

The world hears neither of them
But both can pretend

I don’t know if it’s just the bitter cold
or the failure of the liquor to warm my soul,
but there’s frostbite on my lungs and an emptiness deep inside me.
“The future is bright” oh what a lie,
spending every night with my only company; the sky,
the stars lose the fight and even fade when the sun rises high,
and it does so spitefully.

I’ve got unlimited time,
claiming invincibility as a crime.
I’ve got an endless list in rhyme,
but I have no conclusion.

Tell me Scout, is this a joke you were planning?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Gritted teeth and fists are banging.

I’ve got unlimited time,
but no energy left for the climb.
I’ve got never ending points to chime,
but it’s all an illusion.

Tell me Scout, is this a joke I’m not understanding?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Dodging punches and slurs they’ve all been slanging.

I evaluated the situation up and down, left and right,
and I still don’t think it’s accurate of that night,
‘cause the level was too hard when I meant to choose beginner.
I tried to hold your interest with all my might,
but I noticed your eyes drastically dim in light,
the screen flashed “game over” before we were even done dinner.

Dear Ed,
you Kate,
          Ted,
        Do you sometimes wish you didn't know how some things were just so?

Yours sincerely,
                             Kaydee.

Have you ever just seen the normal things?
I mean really see them

Like the intricately woven fingers of a Conifer leaf
The riveting shades of green that changes like the colour of the ocean
The light green spills over the dark, in a wild but beautiful contrast

Like the smokey rust of an autumn orange leaf
Falling ambivalently
Where the wind blows
Like the crisp ruby of a freshly picked raspberry
The deep, angry knots locked in wood
Or the spiralling beanstalk, climbing and reaching

The plume of colour from a flower
Pebbles lapping against a woven patio

Understand.
Perspective.

Take some time to really see something, for the first time.

I wish to be a mockingbird

To imitate perfectly
singing at the sight
of a flicker of light- right on time

To amaze and never once fail
to carry a perfect tune
with just enough joy
harmonizing till noon

A melody already heard
yet new and unique

A master of imitation
an artist within
following a yellow streak

Every chime and song
is voiced peculiarly
not a hint of hesitation

Moving it’s body rhythmically  
it never doubts
For it knows which direction it shall go

I wish to be a mockingbird

To imitate so well
to be cherished
because I am
because I do
without fully being myself