It's been a while since I've written
It may be 'cause it's been a while
Since I've really felt anything at all
One little white pill
"It'll take all the pain away"
But the dealer never told me
My new friend was here to stay
So before you say yes
There's something I need to say
You'll lie awake wishing for pain
At least then you'll feel something
But it'll never fucking come
Because your friend you call numb
Calls your brain home
Numbness used to be my friend
But when you invite him over
He'll never want to leave
And you'll do everything you can
To evict him from your home
But forever there he'll stay
And you'll always feel alone
My tiny round friends used to be so kind
Now I'm reminiscing on times I felt alive
Like a drop of ink diffused in water,
A single idea might change everything.
It is for the reason we think and think and think,
That the finishing line seems to shrink and shrink and shrink.
Their trophies and our consolation prizes, we always link
To the faces of where it matters not if we stink.
We grope and grope, but never look;
Only offer our eyes to reference books,
Pay our lives to learn how they sit and smile and dress and cook,
When we could carve out crafts of our own on hippocampus walls to hook.
Charts and charts of sound waves go farther than needed into the ear,
But in this statistic, there are more of those which we are deaf to hear.
Then we wonder, perhaps they will listen if we talk our fear through beer.
What we cannot, we must preach, so in the morning it’ll all be clear.
Putting on several mouths, sincerity seldomly salivates in our tongues.
And all we ever scream about, we let clump and clog in our lungs.
Our voices, we swallow, then verbalize universal dung.
Is that easier than to allow our singularity be hung?
To possess such delicate bones under thick coats of flesh and skin,
One little sting, we crumble as if our framework isn't as fortified as tin.
But sometimes when too stung, we rigidify and our cutis turns lean.
Our pores, too open, that even what doesn't exist, we welcome in.
And so, we stick to our lifelong work of homemade bibles,
And add commandments every time we build stables,
Along with valuables from the places in people’s fables.
Only us can decide to make room for new tables.
A Day Of Thinking or
This Is The Way My Brain May Work On Any Given Day
Breakfast In Bed
No one in this world
Makes thinner toast,
Better toast, winner toast.
You do not boast.
How have you learned to slice
This near-transparent, indisputably crunchy piece of bliss!
What skill! And modest too!
No one can make such toast as you.
Going In To Thank
Going into different segments of the brain
I thank for life in any of the synapses.
Is there a gratitude partition
Or a separate, section - special one?
I don’t always feel it – just today.
It probably will go away.
I hope it leaves a record.
Deep, deep inside
I’m feeling tired of society.
It’s like, what I imagine to be
What they call depression.
It’s connected to reality; civilization.
There’s the problem -
It’s not me, it’s them!
I ought to put away the TV (I’ve no phone)
Things electronic, dailies, monthlies,
All things histrionic;
The destructive, scandalous and shocking;
All things not-to-be: illusory.
Noel Coward wrote “World Weary” –
A light, song for something serious.
Perhaps that’s it!
There still exist fall hues phantasmagorical:
Food tastes, sweet music, friends amusing, loyal,
Beauty, animals…and still I feel
Despite the goodness,
Deep, deep sadness at the mess.
A Day Of Thinking 10.28.2016
Circling Round Reality;
The church we visited
Today for pastor's round table
Was set like the scene
Of a Grant Wood painting.
The fields were stretched
For miles upon miles,
The view enhanced
By gently rolling hills.
The tin-roofed-and-sided church,
Once a barn, now renovated,
Sits in the middle of a farmers field.
A treasure once hidden, now found.
In that building we discussed
The move of God across
Our nation and our state,
Building unity amongst us,
Those who till the earth
And spread the seed,
Waiting for God to
Bring the increase.
For as the rain falls
Down from the sky,
It waters the earth
And causes our seed
To sprout and produce fruit.
So we must be patient now,
Being faithful farmers waiting
For the seed we've sown
To receive the nutrition
It needs to spring forth
And yield the harvest
We have always desired.