Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.

She had stopped crying.
All evening in her black-mesh coup de voodoo.
On the plane she had been crying
For her Summer pal. Yesterday she had been to market
Big brown bags and white bags, little pink bags filled with crimsony scents,
Capricornia, looseleaf newsprint, postcards, and colored pencils,
She had hands full of handles, bags bundled, stitched in strict Saturday fashion.
He could barely break a step, he could fake dance with her feet on his tip toes.
She was only three quarters the perfect size to fit inside his frame.
The grand disappearing act. And she was only ifs and suicides.
A stranded ray of sun-draped hair on a cooly porcelain forehead, the segments were all just wrong,
Something so wrong, trembling heart cries over a mute coo through a flattened tongue.
The sickle tongue, dodgy on Tuesday's, She had a simple mug, oh! But so cute and soothing, the nape
That wrapped around, my arm lapped its hands in a clapping ginormous duck's bill!
Lapping rhythmically. Thwack! Thwack!
Like no crying I had ever heard. Nor Earthen beauty I had never seen.
Her little lamb legs lumbered over, her awkward thinness and long limbs spilt on top of her,
Her tiny shoulders searching for support from her hips. White aurulent doll head on a stick,
She had sad defeated eyes, whimpering, pathetic,
Too small, and she shuttered and she shook,
And she shivered out every teardrop her body ever made. And she fell back on her bottom, and looked
Up as if to see a white steed standing with her guy striking a poised hand down to her,
He split down the middle, stammering, broken pieces of words crumbling out of his mouth
With eager intentions. He was too weak
To give her his feet, or pull her up in, he hadn't the gumption. He was fully occupied standing,
He wept too; then shuffled a little
Towards where she had fallen. He knew she wasn't right
She couldn't get the devil out of her piercing blue pupils, she couldn't
She lied.
Then she just piled on top of her knees and fumbled as if to rise like a demure lamb trying to rise off its Newborn legs, she just curled her legs,
So stiffly built, and narrow footed, built with such inequality to her siblings,
She got in the way of herself, a little lamb that could not manage.
Too whittled for him, he tried, he really tried, but three years had drained his strength, no real help.
When he sat her upright on her bottom, she opened her eyes, and for a moment smiled, grabbed for His hand but then after awhile she was lost, she lost interest, her pupils wandered.
He was orchestrating everything.
A real project, much more urgent and important. By nightfall she could not stand. It was not
That she couldn't smile or laugh or love, she was born
With everything but the will to live -
That cannot be destroyed, just like a love.
Melancholy was more important to her.
Life could not get her attention.
So she died, with her handles still in her hands, green grass stains her legs.
She did not survive another warm summer night.
And then he wept uncontrollably again.
"The wind is oceanic in the elms
And the blossom is all set."

2

The boy has come back
From the seashore, and atop the plateau.
The woes of women are like a genocide
In the morning, when the killing is over,
And the heat begins, and the bodies lie,
And stark life moves for its sobbing bones,
The curved women move with fire.
Father Father Father the girls
Are weeping, and crying and I cannot resist that gentle frailty
They are shucked in their skin suits rising from their soporific slumbers
In decadent leathers and frou frou dresses. They cling to bold faces,
Nothing can escape that cold crying of women weeping for their princes.
Blood-letting rage cannot overthrow the meadow from the pebble brook,
As a laden head bleats its tarnished tongue across a milky breast, it cannot
Escape the sounds of blue-stained teardrops cascading across the plains,
The sounds of woolbirds braying while their skins are sheared against the
Sluicing sound of water rushing through the flume.
All summer they have lamented, gorging on melancholy, tottering their cotton pyramid heads,
Shaking their cries in deliberation, bald skinny victim women screaming out!
Cotton-mouthed clams yaffing, hearts in panic, wholes of bodies clambering in a *** of woe.
They roost useless, pollard and wethered, jealous
Squinting out the last droplets of desperation from their eyes, screaming their mouths in awful
Togetherness, this cacophony of tortured tongue-song
They curdle the last notes of despair out under knotted breaths
With every inch of strength left inside them, they bray this way and that.
Their mothers scream out in wretched despair, ahhh!
On distant cliffs, on scrawny legs
Their stiff pain goes on and on in the September heat.
"Only slowly their hurt dies, cry by cry,"
Whipped bodies toting wergeld on a shore.

The Day She Died

Was the gloomiest day of the new century,
The first of calamitous, unfortunate autumns to come,
The first dying breath from piceous lungs.

That was yesterday. Early morning, soft rime droplets
Frosted to every blade of grass, not like any other
Earlier June day we've ever had. In the deep twilight
The syzygy announced the moon and demoted the sun.

The Earth-crisp frost nuzzled snow droplets.
Black bands of ravens whipping. Martens littering
Fresh kills of red-eyed rabbits on stark white stale
Summer lawns. A fox grayed, its cold bones
Mapped by ravaged feasts. A possum prowling
In a spot of tawny light.

The concrete spread into a maze
Of black veins ripening in the acute niello
Destitution of its widening cracks,

And when the summer left
It left without her. It will have to accept,
In the paley dim light of this vengeful wilderness -
She is gone.
But for now the warmth has not returned but a naked, half-pomegranate
Rotten moon for us two.
And a great vacancy in our memory.

Don't be enticed by the attraction of a crowd.  It's more important to walk alone, than to show-off, be rude and loud.
Don't allow your peers, to constantly pressure you, because they say you're not their friend.  Watch the amount of trouble they cause, especially, in the end.
Life is given, to gain much knowledge, in this very large world.  Not to mess around, and be funny, impressing every boy and girl.
Don't get left behind, watching your so called "Friends" get promoted.  They will be the ones to laugh at you, while you are being demoted.

Hi, nice to meet you,
I'm Me
And this is Ana,
who is also Me
There was a time before Her,
but it was so long ago
that the memories are fuzzy around the edges

She was so quiet,
I didn't even hear Her come in
I turned,
and She was simply there
She was so soft
Her voice a mere whisper
among the surrounding chaos
When I floundered,
drowning in the dark ocean of My reality
She was there
powerful, capable, calm

I am Her, and She is Me
We were powerful, capable, calm

So powerful, so capable, so calm
victory over oneself
Where She was once quiet,
She became thunderous
once soft,
now unyielding
It happened so fast,
I didn't even notice I was no longer steering
That I'd been demoted by a jury of Me

We live together in this prison of Ours;
swimming endlessly
in the turbulent waters that is Our stream of consciousness
like a boiling ***
The vessel that We inherited
through no choice of Our own
is in a constant state of disrepair

And there is One Thing on which She and I can agree:
I am Her, and She is Me, and She and I will die as We.

Et tu, Brute?

Disillusionment encompasses the night.
Your warm breath tickles my ear,
Firm hands caress my skin
leaving no part of my body untouched.
All other distractions, extraneous characters,
everything else is irrelevant.
It is just you, with your smooth dark skin,
comforting embrace,
and those entrancing brown eyes,
and me, with my silky pale skin,
soft curves,
and sad but hopeful eyes.
It is just us and our apprehension in this room,
isolated from reality.
You indulge in my coquettish laugh,
and I take solace in the warmth of your touch.
The contours of my body complement yours
as we both try to savor this feeling of ecstasy.
But the hourglass runs out,
and this moment is fleeting.
The illusion is shattered
when the protagonist reappears,
and I am demoted to understudy.
I am left to replay this scene
in my disillusioned mind
hoping to one day again feel
the softness of your lips
pressed against my bare skin,
but until then, I will replay these events,
ignoring this void in my soul
and embracing the momentary nirvana.

With space colliding
and consciousness demoted to
electrical charges
the beep of a car horn can

break you from a reverie of
spinning atoms and cracked coffee cups
in ****** cafes in
broken towns where

news of invasions flicker across screens
and disinterested teens discuss apps
and buildings collapse and governments
speak of

fascism being a ***** word something
decidedly non-PC
something slanderous
how dare thee

We are not Nazis
we are just looking out
for you

they know what’s best for you so
drink your coffee and
enjoy your technology
just don’t
say the wrong
words

I was happy
Yes, I thought I was the messiah
I thought I was a celebrity
I thought 'gee how every one looks at me'
Now I know my thoughts were wro.g
And I have been demoted to
Nothing. No one.

I am more interesting since being locked up,
'it must have been scary'
They ask me
I say yes
But I mean no.

You told me once
          of the distinctive jingle
          that announced my station
when I could steal away
for a few moments
     to speak
     to see
     to connect
Over that long distant airwave
You told me I was one
          of two
          the other your son
who you wanted to know
was on the other end
so you could be certain
to take the call
I wonder
     have I now been
          dismissed
          replaced
          discharged
­          reassigned
     to a lesser status
Or would you still get a tingle
if you heard my jingle?

The Master Corporal said to me
"I'm gonna do a show"
"Don't worry what I say to you"
"I just thought you should know"

Injured, badly two weeks gone
I was set to be held back
My knee was torn apart and
that, was not something I could hack

The day I was demoted
My Master Corporal came to me
He said "Turner, I hate to do this"
"But, it's for the best...you'll see"

I waited for inspection
With the others all on line
They were standing at attention
Me on crutches the whole time

"Turner, is there anything"
"That I should hate to find"
"Is there stuff inside your locker"
"of a non-military kind"

I stood there at attention
Waiting for the end to come
As he looked all through my kitting
Found dust upon my gun

He opened up the locker
And a moth came flying out
It flew past the Master Corporal
And then it danced upon his snout

The yell...was heard in England
"A pet...you've got a pet"
"Who said that you could have one?"
"It's not allowed...A PET"

The moth found the first window
flew back towards him once again
Left some moth dust on his beret
And he flew away right then

The Master Corporal's outrage
At being "mothed" by my new pet
Was one I don't think many
In our platoon would soon forget

He started throwing clothing
Chucking boots around the room
I knew it was all acting
But, those boots can really zoom

When finished he stood waiting
For a response, I stood and stared
I could not break out a smile
I had to show I didn't care

He moved on through the others
Looking for more moths on the way
But, that first one and it's face dance
Well, it surely made my day

He drove me to my barracks
Up to my new platoon
"I hope you liked my show today"
" I know I'll see you soon"

"Just do what you are ordered"
"And one thing don't forget"
"When you next have an inspection"
"Don't have an insect for a pet!!"

I remember fondly that last visit
He knew it hurt for me to leave
But, every word in here is truthful
You can choose to not or to believe.

Specialism, electro mechanical circuits,

moving parts yet move, you see, but when we read we bring our senses
inside
privacy can become a public mind, if one is connected, in a giving way,
taking thought,
as the original medium we found message in,
thought takes form
in words,
words take form in things. Right. Check.

Blake feared the objective world was being walled in,
and all the people screamed, amen.
Again

Build the wall, from icons demoted to mites of no more
weight than a tinker's think,
phe-nomenal noment-ation, if we may

Hot and cool both bubbled up as burps, perhaps from the babes
booming through the lies told before the great war.

No future? You allow that thought in your culture?
And shame and blame?
No wonder you choose to lie.

Bear with me a while, share my load, it's light.
There is a hopeful object,
we can go easy into that good night,
the world is round.

Free from Ra and Isis and all, in one fell sweep of the besom.
Broom, besom, means broom, but the effect of an e,

e-lectrix

you give us the fire we'll give em hell  a game ad in the middle of the massage
Call of duty, black ops.
they
You use you eyes to see, it's a with-spiracy,

a hair of the dog that bit you. Eh?
live in bonanza land, 1965.

and so it goes, Dresden, every minute of every day

the walls of your home are coming down,

unless you were born with a cell phone in your father's pocket.

Privacy is calling for walls from the fenced in time after Bonanza.

Ah, too late, ours is an all new world of all at onceness, a global village, happening simultaneous.
extreme with everybody else's business, huge in
volvement in every body's business

we know too much to be strangers
walls fall down, not go up,
the wallbuilding never workded, did it Grandpa?

Nineteenth century student could believe
the factory system
would use the knowledge, hard-won
from books and chalkboards,
to keep him outa the mine.

Now, the information age,

are we the leisure class? Ever learning,
never knowing everything,

but knowing walls and wars do not perform as advertised.

The safety car, that was one with seat belts, 1965.
Our body percept, it changes,
this image of which you are un
aware.

The disconnected minded man, alienated
artist living edgewise to
cattywompus.

My life is my art, eh, not the other way.
Global village information age McLuhan named these things
from Canada.
More expert than my teacher,
Pop art is not a pun, it was a bubble,
that's a fact. The-joke-with-no-story-line-conundrums,
elephant jokes, blonde jokes

Those tests, Turing would approve,
any old A.I. can play chess,
just remember every response to every move ever made in any game in the system,
like the amygdala, your lizard thought-speed brain,
at the top of your spine.

But humans can make funny seem.

Humor comes from a world of un happiness and gripes,
Jose Jimenez was the example they made. Racist, right?
The guy was a jew.
William Szathmary, Googled it.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Dana>

Communicating with the logo-label-designer you wear,
messaging the world what? Exactly,
any un thought thought goes unsaid,

but T-shirts and body art, henna's the best,
those send a message with no thought whatsoever.
Same as Redcoats in bearskin hats, what's being said,
same as the judge with a wig?

What is the role?
Why the ongoing act?
It must have changed into that wigged judge from something.

Theater of everywhere, accept allatonce, or die asking y not.

Inward directed seeking
deep meaning
a role that changes

some outside
the future of the future started, a while back. not too far.

No inevitability.
An act of high poetry

envisioning,
the future was friendly

metaphysical value, brilliant, incomprehensible
a man, a thinker,
storytellers the experts say,
need some mud behind 'em. and some snow.

a mother never satisfied with her life,
brittley self confident,

the whole approach to knowing is old.
Diogenes's search for a good poem, with
shifting levels of imagery,
never shall you know,

they work
the way a word works,
the effect.
effect. fect from Latin facere,
sistere mechanically deus
The oracle of the information age
Ah,whatvoiceisheardaroundtheworld,
oh,mine.2018 Mr. McLuhan,
you'd likely lighten up a little.
Toejammspredder was mcluhan I heard on the grapevine.

Hey, mom, I'm on TV.
Up to doctrine, then destination syndrome a hopebubble

He had brain surgery and returned to Catholicism, a safe place.
But he left his vision to television's offspring.
That's about all I know of his work.

My mind seems to wander aimlessly
As the clock ticks away
Chips away at my shame that was built up from yesterday
It pains me to see you this way
But if time is our only healer
I'll see you in the future
And hope that your pain has washed away
But until then let me introduce you to today
He is my dear friend
The last of his kind
I hope you don't mind that I'm taking the time to write this out
I only have one doubt
And that's life in it of itself
But why not take the time to thank all of the haters
It sounds cliche but you made me greater
Took every ounce of hope I had and destroyed it
You wanted to feel 10 feet tall
But ended up demoted
So you can take my words to heart
Better yet
Take your words and shove it
I write better when I'm sleep deprived
But with the dreams that I'm having
I'll be eaten alive
Never waste time sleeping when I can be forming words that help bring meaning to everything that had no explanation
Sign this form its a written notation of everything you've taken away
They're not special rights if I'm fighting for the same ones that you already have
It's called equality idiot
As in equal
We're all the same
We might look different but our blood runs the same way
But you must not get enough to your brain
It's sad isn't it
When people would rather be exactly like everyone else in order to be accepted
They give up feeling in order to make others happy
I remember when I was like that
Here's a secret fact
I grew up being told that if I did everything right
The man of my dreams would one day find me
7th grade I looked at a girl and thought I did everything wrong
What was going on in my heart
Was not okay
I didn't know what people would say
Punishing myself
Thinking I could change fate
Lead me away from my faith
And brought me nothing but pain
It's safe to say I didn't understand anything about life
Or that caring about what other people thought only brought people to their knees
So please
Just be you
I'm through trying to make excuses for why I'm not happy
I accept the fact that I've let life drag me down
But look at me now
I can say out loud that I love a girl
People say that when you find yourself you will know it
I think I'll go to bed now
Wake up and look around
Because I've figured everything out

as a whole I have
{been listening to your godawful racket}
ruminated
for an entire rehearsal number
{though it felt like six}
and have a few things I would like to address
as a
{brutal bandslaughter}
kindly input
for your improvement
flutes
{come on now,
have we ever heard of a tuner}
great job, watch your pitch on the A, though
again
{scratch that, where's the shotgun}
...right.
clarinets
first parts play
{no, stupid, you are SECOND part
you got demoted last week
when you couldn't play the riff in
measure nine}
wonderful, now could we take it from letter B
just first clarinets, okay
{FIRST clarinets
FIRST FIRST FIRST
god where's my coffee}
right. let's just move right along, shall we
oboes

oboes, I--

right.

let's have that F again
{you're flat you're sharp and
both of you
just plain ****}
okay, one at a time
{oh my LORD my ears are bleeding
who the hell invented this thing}
you're a little sharp
can you fix that
...your reed is old
{you bought it last week}
...you've got spit in it
{you just took an entire twenty measures
of the last movement to
pull out your swab}
...someone broke your horn.

right.

okay French horns
let's hear the G

Hollow-minded without a thought,
A numb mind assesses the world.
Amongst a static hiss of sound
Against feet untouched by ground
Demoted to the empty void of blue

An empty mind impotent of thoughts
A happy mind blissfully ignorant
An unconscious mind rendered numb
A dumb mind assesses the world

An abundant blessing becomes over-used
Becomes an economical powerhouse
For those who exploit its insignificance.

Largely significant to individuals who hurry nature
Rapid growth aided by toxic substances
Forcing nature to suffer a life full of exploitation.

Humans put price tags on nature.
Something priceless in its natural state gets demoted in value.
But, its value to humans - priceless.

Without sustainable and artificial growth of stand-alone insignificant pieces, a whole species of intoxicating humans will be eradicated.

Luscious greenery and growth follows the death of a human.

You’re feeling depressed so you head home early.
Your mom asks if you’re okay the moment she sees you walk in the door. “Just tired,” you mutter half-heartedly.
Sooner or later, you start to believe it.
The “just tired”s build up slowly and quietly until you are legitimately fatigued.
You can’t sleep at night but you can’t bring yourself to get out of bed and do something productive in the morning. Your grades drop. A teacher eventually calls home. You start going in again, but you are reluctant enough to leave the sanctity of your bed each morning; school is another obstacle entirely. You scrape by with average grades. Your parents are just happy to see you “functioning” again.
You get a job. It *****, but the hours are decent and allow you plenty of time to sit alone at home. Eventually your minimally active drive begins to taper off. You stop trying hard; your manager notices. You eventually get demoted after being late one too many times.
You drag through the hours, watching other people move by in a blur, and you come to point where you stop in the middle of the freezer aisle with your shopping cart. (You can only bring yourself to make microwavable food these days.) The children in the seats of the other carts stare like they can tell something is amiss, something is different, perhaps your aura or your face or the way your clothes are hopelessly wrinkled. You can’t bring yourself to finish your shopping after that, so you leave your half-empty cart there in the middle of the aisle and walk back out to your car empty-handed.
This is your life, you think. This is your mediocre life. And you are tired of it.

Her veins have deteriorated

Narrowed and not ameliorated

With every pungent pulsating pump

Her quality of life she does expunge

To a beating that is crepuscular

And will gain no life from any stabilizer

It is bleeding desultory diaphanous crimson

Demoted by her own visceral volition

Until one day it ceases

As the walls to her capillaries deceases

Until a cardiologist by a different name

Imposes on her grotesque game

To replace these decrepit pathways

That does mellifluous passion decay

Until these capillaries are replaced

Through the bypass of an ethereal nature embraced

To heal such a slaughtered souls defeats

Until a her hearts ephemeral beats

Coalesce with the tranquil thundering

Of her shamans pulse

that dominates over her demons plundering.

A soldier is stripped of everything but his will to live

I nuzzle my head into your chest like a child
You ask if I'm okay
"Yes. I just wanted to hear your heartbeat."

A human being is stranded in the middle of the sea, forced to watch a comrade stop fighting to live.

You run your fingers through my hair,
Cradle my hand in yours
We are still lovers, still breathing

He makes it to the shore of the enemy
Is immediately demoted to POW

I wonder if you know that I'm a prisoner of love; it is quite the wonderful setup. We kiss with the lips first, and you ease into tongue because you are patient; you are okay with waiting

Beatings
Torturous conditions
And then--
He is liked and wanted
Is allowed to leave camp to tell his parents he's still alive
And in that building he sees "a woman for the first time
In two years" you whisper
Something I hadn't thought of
And I wonder if men need women more than I recognize

A day you never wanted to remember
A day you always wanted to get off your head
A day you got bullied right in front of your wife by people you are better than
A day you got demoted at work after putting your 120% to save your job
A day your kids were sent home because of school fees
A bad day
A day your wife asked you to sign a divorce paper after trying to be a faithful husband
A day your landlord served you a quit notice even as u tried to be a faithful tenant
A day you are called for a very lucrative job interview but you are in coma in the hospital
A bad day
A day you never wanted to remember
Bad day
A day you always want to get off your head
A bad day
A day you are kept in the mood of despondency
A bad day
A day you never wished for

to be compressed beyond all thought to nothing
singularity
by guilt that pursues all preferences and destroys.
decimates you
when you wake up from the dream
the dawn comes
and you deem
all things as problems
Cause things you try for are destroyed
things you love are void
all passions are forgotten

and nothing
but: pain, torture, derelict,
are left.
a consuming hold strangles you to complete restriction of vein
all weather is told to stop
all your brain begins no calculations
standstill of formal
sis decease

the quandary of feeling just. so much pain
just so much problem
just so much manipulation of self telling you that you will be ok and knowing.

it is a lie

just like the things you've always felt
the things you've always been through
car washes that laser you to nothing
to nothing of worth like dirt. yet lower. demoted
promoted from **** and compiled to none
divided enjoyed and summed to the sum
of nematodic prevalence that ***** with your modesty
we must ****** this feeling of warmth
for if we don't take all the heat then the cold will never come
and we will be like them.

We are going to move soon. Mom says we are going to California.
Fear and discontent; ghosts of old memories coming back to haunt us.
Sun-baked cigars lose their precious scent like once-joyful families
lose their only redeeming qualities in times of hardship and abandonment.
Swallowed tears hurt my throat and my sisters are lost,
lost even more than I am, and that hurts my soul.
Moving without knowing where, tossing our lives up into the air to see where it takes them. Tumbleweed flying through towns abandoned,
irrespective of its previous path, Where will it come to a halt?
Blood-leaking hearts screaming giant black bold words at eachother
to see who will leak out first. Tumultuous times a rhythmic pattern
in life’s depressing story, which at best is witty—never happy.
Love and crushes demoted to mere memories glazed-over
by more pressing ones.
Piercing judging eyes spot the handcuffs of my arresting shame
and seize them; from there they can take me anywhere.
Stories of death, doom, destruction on the news, but to them I am
cold and indifferent. Heart calloused by self-punishment I see no good,
no evil.
Oppressive overcast sky mingling with rambunctious sea forming
holy alliance, beautiful horizon infinite and superb. Perhaps there is
hope in constant chaos.

There once was a girl named Sally
Who liked to dilly-dally
On the bed she did stay
All night and all day
Instead of cleaning the galley

Dreaming of days long gone
When witches would ride upon
Her family and friends
Through the wends and the bends
In between dusk and dawn

There’s a Ken doll in the back seat of my car;
He’s been demoted from passenger.
My parents bought him for me one Christmas as a joke – “Ken Perfect” they called him…
The boyfriend that will always listen with a smile on his face
and a sparkle in his eye.
I thought it was a cute token of my single-ness,
But of course it didn’t last.
The men came and went,
And poor Ken roasted through the summer
And froze through the winter.
Always with a smile on his face
And a sparkle in his eye.
Why is it that nice guys
Always finish last?

Buried deep within teenage romance
And wit and strife and philosophical musings and --

He'd nudged my foot,
His face is a gorgeous grin over these pages.
I glance back to them.

The love interest rose up now
Handsome and beautiful
Charming, clever, humorous, and deep
(But did he have to be oh so middle class American??
And did she? Or I, first person as it is?) --

He's started to stroke my toes now,
Gently, just how I like it.
I'm not kidding when I say
"If you touch my feet I'll fall in love with you"
It's almost instantaneous.

A heroic act of selfless love:
Amsterdam snows confetti
Virginities are lost or traded or gifted
Heroes are demoted --

He kisses my head now,
My cheek, my temple
Interrupts with a story,
Hilarious I am sure
"What was that? Sorry, I'm distracted"
I giggle
Engrossed in the 'other land'

Love blooms on the wings of angels
(And all those other cliches)
He is perfect, yet flawed, as they all are.
As we all are.
They click and rebound and discuss
They laugh, they cry:
They try to fill a part of themselves with
The Other --

I glance up, spying on my own lover
His soft glance on the laptop
Beautiful lips
Gorgeous style
Our own joking, rebounding, enthused exchanges.
Our own supporting, caring, deep meaningfuls.
And I'm not jealous. Not of them. Or anyone. Not one bit.

Yet tragedy is ever present!
And our handsome and perfect lover
Is tossed into Oblivion:
Or to a Something's Somewhere --

"He's dying!" I cry to beautiful brown eyes
Framed with long wavy black.
The darkness holds amusement and affection.

Their perfect and tragic love is ever more so
For its fleeting 'forever'
Its lessened 'infinity':
Beautiful and fragile --

His arms are around me tight
Why am I affected so?
Too easily invested?
But it's not that.
The emotions are too close.
It had been described so well.
Loss.
So accurate.
And these feelings not completely healed
- But healing. Slowly.
Time heals all wounds,
But maybe some are forgotten, sealed away
This one. This one slowly eases.
Some infinities are larger than others.*
And his love surrounds me
As emotions leak from some deep place
Let out to the Universe
Hopefully to never return.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately
About college
People I love
Careers that might interest me

Too much thinking can make your head hurt.

So I let my thoughts dissolve
dissolve is the wrong word.
I let my thoughts expand through my music
Through my pursuits, my passions

We never know where we will end up tomorrow
It could be anywhere, really

We could never see the people we are familiar with again; today could be the last day.

I hope this phrase never is demoted to cliche status; it is far too important for that sad fate.

The point I'm getting to is

Live tomorrow, today, whatever time you are in
With as much soul, as much class,
All your strength and all your love
As you will.

Leave nothing unsaid, leave no story unwritten.

Lest it be forgotten.

Having a health "problem"
I can handle this
Try to keep working
Yes, I know I've been late a few times
So exhausted... fatigued...caffeine
or ***? Too tired lately...
many nights lacking somnus
used to be such a lovely escape
I stay late,
always get hours
and overtime
never forget to explain present circumstances...
not excuses...
Father told me
We must be dignified, stoic
Or try to be at least

No backup plan
or graceful exit strategy
not impossible if I need another job
to have smooth transition
no 9 months of vacation, sick leave...
no 401K advanced,
or generous severance
a little saved
I'm adaptable, capable
husband gone...meager
weekly contributions
resigned... thought crazy?
maybe I was...clinging to "principles"
not a tech analyst anymore...by choice
was I high?

apply for "rights"?
Yeah sure
FMLA...
Family Medical Leave Act
I know it well
Took time off this way before
when our child was ill
while I was working
at a HUGE health insurance company

5 years working here now
Nothing but Golden reviews
Great Bonuses
with Excellent pay
no vacation or sick time
I need to work every weekend and Holiday
required
and I gotta cover shifts
work off the clock sometimes
at night... and when called upon
At the owner's house
houses... I mean

Volunteering for big events
Exciting...HGTV...
rubbing elbows with Celebrities
Thinking that I would be part of this family forever...so naive still
Hoping I'd finally shine
Already Head Inn Supervisor
Do everything, know all the jobs
Hardly glamorous..
I'm proud of working at this High End Hospitality destination location

But Event Coordinator...
I am over qualified for both really
but too good at my job
I pulled staff to do a project...
She was AMAZED
He told me and no one's ever polished those beams
My heart sank and lept
Day-to-day functions
might be my new thing...

A quagmire to walk on
I'm sinking
dropped into a legal mare's nest

Shouldn't have said anything
about being "sick"...
We need to talk to you
Alright
30 days till Christmas
spent most of bonus
things could be worse

Disbelief, not connecting yet
Tears start coming
like a deluge of pent up sacrifices
time I lost
and such costly prices
all seem so unappreciated
Breathe

Why in the world did I spend
so much on a gift for them?
Just a written warning
Never before
I'm just afraid
No having that...
Take a pill or something

Collusion?
or coincidence?
New trainee...
though I'm not training her?
We are... very busy
They just want me to take a look
and make sure she's doing a good job though and pick out her mistakes
Don't forget to finish
writing those guidelines...
or getting Dr. signed off on those rights

new phone number
leave it with her on a piece of paper
reluctantly agreeing hand over that ink
feel instinctively she doesn't like me
we have disagreed before
says she let me know if the staff I called in doesn't show up to cover my shift
no one called
not even to ask where I was
quiet as an empty church mouse...

went into work on Monday
they thought I actually
didn't show up for work
good one, very funny
you never left us your number

On the piece of paper I left it with her
She denies it...
well could have predicted that
B*!!!
I find the crumpled, bloodstained, tear soaked evidence in the recycling
they grab the bin...out of my hands?
Seriously?
say that doesn't prove ANYTHING?
Now I'm just ****** the f off!!!

Second time called on carpet
Keep working
To hell with them
What was that he said?
Disappointed in my life choices?
Oh... I didn't want to sleep with him right.
Most reasonably attractive girls
that have worked there did
disappointed in me...because jealousy
  dating a younger guy
my family doesn't mind but he does?

Make sure I'm clocked in on time
and leave on schedule
2 more weeks till a rest
work Christmas Eve
then Christmas
you know other staff has
"more important" things
their children are younger
or something

another talk...oh, well a good one
I hope... being Christmas
Demoted?
What's that?
I don't think I understand?
One day a week?
Is this a f** joke!?!?
Oh....right because I wanted Medical leave..well,
I can put that off whatever.

No...that isn't why
No tears...
then...

So angry, fuming
as darkness is looming
yelling at the void of listeners
dignity? Stoic?
Sorry Dad...
as maniacal laughter...
those demon poet's
snicker at such an unpoetic ending

Done...
Convenient replacement, already trained
then go on a "vacation"
they own land in Holland
grow tulips...
still reaping Tulip mania benefits?
no "un"- employment,
wasn't fired
I guess I quit
since I never got another shift
though I apparently
was "scheduled" for a couple
maybe their phone was broken
I certainly was

I just was infuriated
and that guitar playing
Lil boy blue
bright eyed
peter pan
my younger boy wonder...
he was disappointed too
well thanks for the Charlie Brown tree
nice knowing you...
you beautiful burden
you haven't worked in how long?

I ripped down that twig that night
it was the ending and the beginning of EVERYTHING.

Cherie Nolan © 2016

give me a man willing and devoted
ill crush him so his loves demoted
render me a hope and find it maimed
lost for good, thought not where I had aimed
unashamed
so proclaimed,
by the loser of the dreams

destained to walk the earth
giving in to loves new birth
kiss it bye for its all forsaken
and see it go, its already taken
strongly shaken
always mistaken,
this is the killer of the dreams

a new year comes full of hope
no shame could be washed away by soap
itself is so warped and harshly distorted
and no sings of love may be rewarded
possibilities aborted
new leaf contorted,
for the spoiler of the dreams

make up could never transform this face
so false emotion has to fill up and it’s space
the others look on never knowing
while she holds them up their hearts are growing
smiles a glowing
keeps on going,
secretly I am the builder of their dreams.

Princess Diana came back last week
She wore all her pretty clothes
And looked stunning in her hats
She went about her ways as best she could
But there was no hiding all the sorrow in her eyes.

The luckiest girl in all the world
Chosen to one day be the Queen
And then demoted to a brood mare
By a Prince who was secretly a ****,

Her fairy tale had not even got it’s start
When she found out how it would end,
And she was trapped by tea towels
With her face imprinted on them.

She delivered all that was required of her
And even though the song was ended
Managed to write a second verse
Which the conductor wasn’t keen to play.

Yet the music gave her legs to stand on
And the tune grew to a symphony
As she performed it for the World
Who found the melody delicious
And her solos so profound.

Lady Di is back again,
That simple girl who saved herself
To become the lamb for royal slaughter
By a horde of calculating courtesans
Who knew she didn’t matter from the start.

Left to slumber peacefully,
On her private island
Lo these twenty years,
Safe from flashing cameras
And the machinations of the Crown
Diana may be dead but her legend is alive.
ljm

I really think if you told your mom
You would be surprised
I hope the surprise is that she’s there for you
And that she finds the right words
Because she’s your mom
And if the surprise is hurtful
Remember the words you told me once
She may be grieving
Not because she is disappointed
But because she didn’t know
Because she doesn’t really know what it all means
Because she couldn’t find the right words at the right time
But more importantly,
Because she was the last to know
Mothers don’t like to be the last to know
We were once the first to see everything
Then we were demoted
Yet we saw more then we got credit for
Now that our children are grown and gone
It’s different
We rely on tidbits, small talk, holiday visits, sibling rumors
Mothers are often the last to know
But no matter what
And no matter how we react
When we are finally told
Or if we are never told
Every secret
Every heartbreak
Every silly encounter
A mother’s love is so strong
Our love is forever
I really think if you told your mom
You would be surprised