I am daylight
of a dissolving stay
baroque and promises
at the ransom-note-like
a **** sunbather's
as she sleeps
where it reads:
was nothing more
than a foxhole for you."
Sometimes I stick out from my friends a bit - I think. It’s the French in me. Americans have this excité-ment about things - that’s, well, exhausting.
Sometimes, when friends are jumping about, they practically plead for my engagement. I think I have a genetic, French reticence, an observer gene.
True, I have my moments of bitter COVID lock-down angst but I'm doing better than some friends. Maybe because the French live slowly - life is just moments - once a moment has passed, it’s gone.
I wait, in my secret gardens, like a cat on a settee, sipping small pleasures. The poet in me refuses to zone out - there are poems in the stillness.
Funny how our heritages, and our parents shape our outlook
Not too deeply
Perhaps a flesh wound
One drop or two
And then all is well
Let the healing begin
And I will think of it no more
Goodbye year of the knife
Hello restorative day
The clouds grin so wide,
I swear all I get is clear skies
Showing off a sunny smile,
We ain't had weather like this in awhile.
Forget winter for a moment
And examine the plentiful green of those trees,
Without taking it for granted,
Planning our next seeds
While feeling the beautiful heat
Why do I always deny this scenery?
Look at this garden,
Look in the corner for your eyes to arise
withering trees covered in dying vines,
can't say I didn't try to experiment.
You got rotten oranges giving such
a sickly fragrance,
then there are recently rotten blackberries,
maybe something can be salvaged
but too pessimistic for picking
to reclaim them.
Scattered rotten grapes are littered everywhere;
I always hear the scrunching patter
but persist to do nothing about it.
Dead center is a table holding a box
labeled "*******" instead of "fragile"
possessing 9 rotten apples.
trust me, we don't talk about it;
examine if you're up for it.
I notice surviving flies flying around
probably fighting to not die.
how does anything persist to stay alive?
I suppose its a good sign for this garden
as it is not to be abandoned just yet
I just need to buy better seeds.
A net sum of years,
and romanticized numerals,
Built up by birthdays,
to be torn apart by funerals.
Frayed ends of friendships,
pulled until they popped.
A holy mess
in the wake of a difference,
Between what said
and what was thought.
In A Wakeful Contradiction, Now Available on Amazon in Paperback: https://www.amazon.com/dp/1691941182
You say you dont know who you are
You rearing to leave us a scar
I still dont understand the way
You sulk through life each day
Not that im one to pass
But im getting quite crass
With the way you say
Nothing is better today
This pain in my chest is frightening.
The strain of arrest tightening.
I can feel deep down inside of me .
Openly discovering .
Natural habits I couldn't see .
What does it take to believe?
In the light ,
Before the darkness is only perceived.
Clouds of hate with rains that come with a fee.
Every day the spitting image of blasphemy.
It's likely ,
I've gaven every part of me .
Nothing left but a empty blue sea .
Not a boat in sight to save me .
I try so hard to stay afloat of all my dreams.
But soon to be dragged down to the depths
Underneath what is known as our society.
her crystal pedestal shattered
bent and covered in filth
lying in a river of her tears
who she was now in soul searching question
the true test of a princess
is not how she holds herself when waving to the crowds
how well she cleans
when finery becomes tattered
Your coffee every morning
The nightmares of last night
Your cat brushing against your leg
His apologetic lies
The clarity of brisk air on your walk to work
Her unwanted baggage
A new day, the sun, the birds, what lies ahead... independence-- you're not alone.
Everything which ruins your evening, paranoia, grief, the unknown...
The stars are yours to hold
Your life belongs to you again
Breathe, accept, welcome, embrace.