#indoors
.
i made the front door my enemy
staying inside to concentrate
on written projects
i devilled away days
exorcised away my rights
to the world out there
now (with projects complete)
i approach the door
theorize that I am wanted beyond
to receive sustenance
and be free of my aches ...
... or
to become sustenance
give in to my condition
to pass back my remaining value
hand in my report
with the staples removed
be resolved
as some gaseous defeat
i bravely open the door
there is no attack by nature
nor any euphoric reward
i am left alone to feel my own way
to give and receive breaths
steps are taken
and signals interpreted
rejoining the world
as if uninterrupted
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 5:20 PM UTC
grey day of rain drains
indoors
i needn't share the days mood
Aug 13, 2024
Aug 13, 2024 at 2:51 PM UTC
A flattened cricket,
Bright fluorescent lights,
A bathroom stall
Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 2:18 AM UTC
rage of snow outside
against it i finish sealing
windows and doors
my self segregation
from which a depression forms
Jan 21, 2024
Jan 21, 2024 at 5:19 PM UTC
The world, so empty
all locked indoors as the virus lingers and refuses to go away
I see the world, so inanimate, so surreal
Slowly fading away
People used to cheer, made jests, and roar
now it's silent and the roads are filled no more
so desolate, one lonely land it is
Everyone locked indoors
*cheers to the essential workers who step outside to serve the world another day
cheers to the workers who step outside to serve their family some food on their plate.*
cheers
In hopes for a better day
May 12, 2021
May 12, 2021 at 8:15 AM UTC
the yearling roasted on the spit
its drippings crackled the fire
huddled in a smoky closed space
family with a neighbour, or two
bags packed, shoes on, ready to go
the meat carefully carved
its skeleton intact, unbroken
with endives rolled in flatbread
unleavened as we had no time
meal's remains destroyed in the fire
we're ready to leave at any moment
from where we're born and always lived
to a place known only from ancient tales
outside, shrieks and wails, of horror and utter terror
inside, goosebumped, hair standing, we waited, in silence
Mar 21, 2021
Mar 21, 2021 at 9:02 AM UTC
A little splinter today
a tiny shiv
to ***** at our resolve
to flatten the curve
buckle in and fatten up
in your locality
so beautiful days
can be unlocked again
Apr 11, 2020
Apr 11, 2020 at 5:38 AM UTC
Above this cloud of madness
flows a gentle cool breeze
drifting away all the sadness
striped butterflies flapping at ease
sound of the waves are heard
once suppressed by the chaos
rhythmic crashing no longer weird
silent therapy broken by the gentle dose
If only one drowns deep can one taste
the salt can be the much needed sweet
where there is no emotion to waste
and only generous soul to greet.
Apr 6, 2020
Apr 6, 2020 at 5:50 AM UTC
Lone your stupor sits.
What reverie
you declare,
ambrosia never stang like this
since last the rain came stinging.
Ah but puddles my dear,
what fun!
I'll watch your splish splash
but let us not forget
the protection glass affords.
I fear large numbers.
I confess,
it's true.
It's not the hands per se,
rather the eyelashes
and how they remind me of teeth.
They chew me up
with a glance.
Still, what good
could one decimal eyelash hope for
faced with Napoleon's specters.
I'd wager on scarce.
Even so, eyelashes chewed through
my thatcher.
I'll have to buy
a new one.
One that isn't so fond of how the Swiss
process milk.
Not that it's desired
but it's still nice to have a tally
in the loner's column,
now and again.
Sep 15, 2019
Sep 15, 2019 at 4:12 PM UTC
Far moost o' me
three score minus one year
tethered upon terra firmae where
planet Earth doth veer
(spins upon the global axis
(tilted 23.5 degrees from the plane
of its orbit around the sun),
terrestrial genesis (perhaps accompanied
for Pete's sake by Gabriel
blowing his horn) in all honesty unclear
boot more oven concern
points to thermonuclear
and/or subnuclear
war, particularly at forefront
of thine primate noggin
actively hypothesizing
theoretical armageddon,
when non plus ultra gravitates
with e pluribus unum necessitating
each individual to bend over
and kiss his/her rear
goodbye unless total merciless queer
hue loss atomic fallout immediately
incinerates e'en
the moost savvy profiteer,
which aforementioned prognostication
arose from overbear
ring hazy, hot and humid
dangerous heat spell near
lee approximating insufferable
temperature nearing triple digits
(along Eastern Seaboard
of United baked States
makes this human,
an immediate convert to climate control
(though he happened tubby already)
basking, glorifying, and luxuriating
within delightful 60º Fahrenheit mere
really expressing gratitude for such
creature comfort donning my
stretched out birthday suit,
(yet thee moost comfortable leisurewear
then thrift store "special bag
mountain of clothes
as mooch as Yukon sales,"
no matter mine ill mannered
mirrored reflection doth jeer
at such a sorry sight, and/or
laugh reading interlinear
monologue colloquy,
which message gleaned between lines,
and should this poem be red aloud,
thy ******** passion linkedin
with humming HVAC, ye would hear
courtesy hove cochlear
(hollow tube in the inner ear)
sensitive to deafening sounds...so beware!
Jun 30, 2018
Jun 30, 2018 at 4:02 PM UTC
Beneath the facade
The opposite awaits
So few though, I let in
Because my friend,
This heart of mine,
It may not be a temple
But make no grave mistake
For it’s neither a brothel
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 10:35 AM UTC
They are the sky.
I am the earth.
They are taxi rides.
I am a river rushing.
They are eyes glued to a screen
when their companions long for real conversations.
I am the wind in silence.
They are piss-coloured beer.
I am black coffee and stout.
They are cell phone towers.
I am the stars.
They are poodles on leashes.
I am the lone wolf.
They are elevator rides.
I am off the beaten path.
They have forgotten their roots.
I am plugging in.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 6:59 AM UTC
over the cracked
footpath, he spreads
his time-frozen
wares unawares
of childhood now
arrested indoors,
TV, computer,
cell phone drone,
no mango trees
to aim at, the
playgrounds
have gone concrete,
trudge home
catapult seller,
the market for
such simple pleasures,
now obsolete...
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
She likes it indoors,more like she's "self bound",
When faced with dull moments of just staring at the ground,
She tends to look out the window for inspiration,
Stretches out her arm through her window and she loves it when she touches the clouds perspiration;
Drain drops,
They make her feel so good;in her mind the world stops,
Perhaps when its raining she's as happy as the crops.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
I sit by the window as I read,
For nature I need to see.
I stretch my arm to the sun's warm heat, Only for a cloud to make the warmth recede.
I look out to the trees,
Hoping to see some life.
It helps to see the trees,
But it hurts to see the towers which above them rise.
Nature I need to remain sane, For these man-made walls mock me. Without nature I am in pain, Within a building I am ashamed.
If only I made time to reconnect with it, That I might in overwhelming peace pray. Then, then I'd be able to omit,
The voice that says "You have to read today."
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC