#lifelines
tired old ripped up rope,
shedding shredding,
interwoven from
worn~warnings, that
do not hint!
but volume speak,
of a lifetime well used,
the two ends, no longer straightforward,
now stretched, misshapen, countless uses,
left squiggly serpentine, from knots left tied
for~far too long, till they cannot be returned,
to a youthful vigor
them my lifelines;
that stretch from the Atlantic to Pacific
upon my new york hands, right & left,
end to nearing endings, do not hint at
stories untold, geezers, happy to reveal
their tiredness’s are denied a golden oldie
status, just a wind-ed wind-up doll winding
down, coiled-springs uncurling, decoiling…
tensions releasing…
this is the way of the poet,
the words no longer
streaming on demand,
they blip, scurry, a side dent,
glancing, like a windshield hit,
here and gone,
before a napkin secured,
a nearly dried out Bic
secured to scratch remnants
of a phrase spectacular,
end up crumpled, buried,
predeceased in a pocket of an-old fav, a Harris Tweed sport jacket, nurtured
over the years, the faint haze odor
stink of when he
smoked, a couple of
decades long ago…
he rambles,
like that rope end unraveling,
he is was a poet of the way,
for this the way of signing off,
intermittent coughing fits,
the nervous glances of strangers
as he pretends to sashay across Broadway when the light is flash down ten seconds to cross the width of Eighty Feet,
on that old American Indian path
that stretches from the tip of Manhattan Isle
to the Capitol of corruption, Albany, 150 miles…
you see,
poets garner knowledge,
then drip
drops drabs in simile and
metaphors, for this poem
is just the unraveling of a poet
who has,
worn out his welcome,
and smirks/winces
notionally, a long way
to say, the poets has
lost his own way,
now untied, untitled,
unentiteled,
and that’s a
wrap…
Oct 11, 2024
Oct 11, 2024 at 7:52 AM UTC
The sounds of your voices
work with me,
the resonance of your mirth,
your anger, your vexation,
your empathy, your soul,
is orchestral in our everyday scrum
to keep me humming along
Feb 6, 2022
Feb 6, 2022 at 3:29 PM UTC
You often spoke of frameworks as guiding principles at all phases of life.
You spoke of structures, you spoke of lines..
Lines that when crossed with mischief, called for admonishment.
Lines you drew on our exercise books to ensure homework was complete.
Lines you made so clear guarding your babies from outside harm.
Lines that parallel the lives of all mothers.
Today as I look at you, I see those lines etched deep in tireless perseverance; a reminder of your experiences.
Those lines as you age ever so gracefully, are exactly what makes you all the more so beautiful.
May 30, 2020
May 30, 2020 at 1:55 PM UTC
I slithered my hand
across your chest
and your heart
wrote its story
on my palm
one your
voice
fails
to
n
a
r
r
a
t
e
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 4:06 AM UTC
I had forgotten about you
I'm sorry
I had forgotten
That you are always there for me
That you are the only one
Strong enough to pull me out of the ditch
That your finger will always point
At the right direction
That you are my voice of reason
That you are my very needed dose
Of uncontaminated sanity
That you are where strength is abundant
And I only needed to tap into it
That you are where I should look to
To find myself again
I now know
That silence is not absence
And that you are the reason
I will not make this mistake again
Because you'll always be there
To redirect my focus
I'm sorry
But thank you.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
i like it
when children are innocent
when dreams are plentiful
when lifelines exist
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 11:43 AM UTC
"is cutting a sin?"
you ask me.
only fourteen years old.
and you show me your wrists.
one line for the divorce
another for your mother's death
a 3rd to feel the sadness in a tangible form.
but there's a fourth line, it's the strongest
it's the lifeline
and I threw it to you the moment you told me.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 11:36 AM UTC
Can't breathe
Can't see
Can't Speak
I'm drowning
The harder I try the further down I fall
My air is running out
my lifelines are calling in a rain check when I need them the most
Everything around me is getting dark
Slowly getting darker and darker
All the words that I want to say get stuck in my through waiting to tumble out at any give moment
but stuck together
They'll never suspect a drowning
Accidental or intentional
I've been fighting for so long
With on one else on my side
beaten and worn
My oxygen levels are falling
Heart rate slowing
maybe then I'll find some peace of mind
Can't breathe
Can't see
Can't speak
Slowly drowning
just tired of it all
No one will ever suspect a drowning.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 11:09 PM UTC