POSTICTAL PORTHOLE-(TIME BLOWN BACKWARDS)

Frozen breath holding back weight, against the chest seems great stacked like stones

Starting softly to see from the third door down the row,reclusive, damage is waiting to show

Others in red alert our mind coming on slow, their fear no reflection on our unknowns

Peace while in waiting,thoughts flow slow into a reflecting pool,echos beginning to grow

Time blown backwards when clocks stopped ticking , simple assessments our only goals

Mental evaporation senses left wide open,trying to find the song but only get static from the radio

Held back by grogginess looking out from fogginess ,bits of life as viewed through those holes

Oh MY I made it,escaped , BUT when will blackness call again,laying low not quite thinking of that other plateau

Bolted ,jolted rousing frequently followed by drowsing,hearing as a low hum ,sounds soon forming new tones

Nonexistentance now part of the ritual ,for the witness memories are visual,slowly waiting to say hello

Perspective has changed, await for thoughts to be rearranged ,senses in collusion with massive confusion,new beginning like waiting for future episodes . R.C.

CIRCUMSTANTIAL ADDICTION

Possibly providing early pleasure, roaming in the moment,soaking in perceived passion

Unforeseen future,risking random rendezvous,what is not known is never seen

Few intentionally defile, no goal to pursue anything vile,yet a path is laid by their action

Safely sampling simple treasure without a true measure,so much just becomes routine

Much to our dismay quickly caught up in a fast array,simple pleasure no longer part of the attraction

What will it be that makes that early plea? slow pace to a full blown race,starts with caffeine maybe ending with amphetamine

Youths candy is indeed dandy,sipping slurpees slipping into sugar diabetes silent diseases forming from recreation

Mellow urge before the surge ,avid appetites flowing ,mild appetites growing to affinity

Beliefs are blind to habits formed,  fantasy world forms from infatuation

New age of games bring new pains  stayed clear of beer now a new hurdle to clear

Each taste a test ,with skills learned from pain we face each day with veracity .R.C.

SPROUTS WITH DOUBTS

Seed waiting on first moisture to begin to sprout ,simple survival still in doubt

Shell a strong barrier to hold off the world,once broken exposing generations yet to be seen

Destination always unsure ,left with the wind or alignment and warmth of seasons ,blowing along the right route

Opening leaflets emerge like searching opinions or sympathies now progressing ,yet green  

Lost in a sea of sprouts each one caught in doubt,warmth from around makes us reach out

Small we respond to the call, testing each whim ,met with a frown or grin,still flowing unsure which way to lean

Harsh to tender good judgement waits ,compassion or sentiment dependent on atmosphere ,experience bring more clout

Branching out waiting to blossom, learned lessons taking on more light,lacking refinement brings on the obscene

Awash in life's waters,tested like the rest, which grows taller shows the beauty or is the best, hindsight shows it all is lost in a drought

Annual is fleeting fast ,perennial solid secure, unsure of purebred or which way we are lead, hope for the good before it is all routine

Maturity often arrives lost in a grove never taught love ,another tries their time at trimming ,we accept  reshaping with little discount

Did we learn from the growth take in the most,was our color simply for the others, whether perfectly preened or left in the brambles did we get what it takes to be serene
R.C.

His voice was deep and low
Very low
I can't paint a voice
But if I could
It would be dark
Midnight blue
Dark
With a hint of light
And an edge of red
The paint would blend like golden honey
Thick, sweet and sticky
With intoxicated headiness I could only imagine what his moans would taste like

NEW DAY

Once again we wait with bated breath ,the next cycles will be up for review

Guilty grief from an unsaid breach,will paying the piper bring some relief

Past seasons gave no reasons, penance left scattered, righting the wrong was taboo

Seasons marked with sunlight cycles ,broken into months and days, each one brings another motif

Ringing in another some say why bother, leading to another broken and crooked avenue

Start a year full speed in high gear,then shifting down,weight is great if turning over a new leaf

Dancing and drinking in the twilight even brings amateurs delight,party long overdue

Revolutions of resolutions stirring the air ,has the past been fair,will begging atonement clean our grief

So do we follow previous scripts or show original tricks ,make the way to an even better rendezvous

Last lessons from our past now the next test, as another years memory's are laid to rest  , just let us be grateful for what we are about to achieve. R.C.