My journey towards content Fluctuates endlessly Above and below The surface of my sanity. Rising Sinking Rising With the tide Melting Freezing In and out Of consciousness; Where I belong Is a foreign feeling, Its happiness short lasted. Is it better to be freezing Or is it better to melt and trust That I will rise.
And apparently I give the illusion of successful equilibrity Sigh Spheres of air escape me
And like broken glass The secrets intensify. The vulnerability of time. Both beautiful and sad. The sound of broken glass. Despite how beautiful the shards sparkle. Despite time. You'll never know what's on it's mind. Hand to glass. The prints left behind to be washed away. The memories no more. How can something so precious be replaced for another. Thrown away without second thought. It's cruel, unjust. No explanation other than physical appearance. The unhealthiest to cope. The necessity of momentary need. Another glass set in it's place. To feel needed in a moment of thirst. How we feel about the things we have. Until we realize the one thing we need. Almost too late
I'm a tool pondering skyscapes. Fondling a memory Left behind On sunset marquees. It raced into the horizon like A toad on the road. A neon dream waving farewell.
Exploring mindsets: An act in caressing Bloodbath tesseracts. A roundhouse rollercoaster, Spinning at velocity of perfume Hitting nasal perforations.
Core memories surface along spine cutlets, No longer intrinsic Doubt. I'm settling for more. A bathed blue baby is a moment Too long to endure.
Hindsight is A parson's lake passage; A mad monster yet to be tamed; A grain of salt to a fresh wound made; Moments of grace from a fake great ape.
Blue morons slide Into Mormon jovial footsteps. Derided ice forestry into King's cloaked ancestry. Which makes family the Opposite of attraction.
And yet here I am Talking to you, Eyelight through obelisks In hotbox barricades. Hiding behind A past of newspapers. Headline reads 'ONLY DEVINE' 'TRADE REIGN WARNS JEWELS' 'PRINCE THREATENS ECONOMY ... AND CROWN.'
Wipe the frown, Draw the sword. Don't be ignored anymore.
There she stands cup of coffee on the table looking around at the flowers and foliage enjoying this early summer morning in the shade a wisp of a sad smile and lines on her face speak a long life.
I wonder where she has been what waters what deserts or valleys she has traversed whose lives she has touched how many lips she has kissed whose passing she has grieved.
Now she's gone but I thank God for this interlude with her as I sit here with my coffee looking through the window in the coolness of the condo writing and listening to guitar feeling the peace of this morning and gratitude for this momentary encounter.
"Momentary Encounter," Copyright 2017 by Glenn Currier
I found a carving made of wood A carving I made and Never really understood The shape was awfully made And yet at the time Emitted an aura that felt good The raw quality, The way light fell on it, At the time I could only think The carving was perfect, The way that it stood.
I found a wood carving that I hid Away from my mind So that I could bid Farewell to the misplaced notches and indents That surfaced on the carving. Why did I leave pieces here And cut off parts there? What experience did I have in carving Such an obscene piece? Of myself, the carving, I would rid But if only I could Forget what I did What I carved What I was amid But I cannot
The reason I didn't understand The decisions I made Was because I understood the decisions I made.
There are parts to this poem drafted in my mind and yet I carved them. I consider reattaching them but what effect will that have to my misshapen poem?
Every butterfly, knows this in it's inner being and yet each forgets it, as soon as it starts flying, the sweet warmth of each flower inviting him, honey and nectar abundant in the beginning, the wind speed that takes him to the bloom-- such happy things ,soon will become a dream.
Quite enticing, plush she is a spectacle, all the same lacking substance and depth. A coffee table book everyone who is someone, curiously grab, turn the pages in a jiffy, just to feel the gloss eye the seductive shine ogle the ostentation, and caress the pictures in opulent colors, then, let go quick without any qualms.
Throw it back on the table with a resounding thud in no time and leave without even looking back once!