"necessitate" poems
and there i am in the midst of it all, conscious of what appears to be existent, yet knowing it is illusory. and if time is occurring synchronously then how can i look back with contrition? for if i have the capacity to move backwards and forwards in quantum leaps, i can erase the past like pastel chalk on an antique blackboard, then start anew. is not the sky my canvas and the arc of the rainbow my palette? and the stars in lustrous luminosity light my way so that ev’n at dusk I can paint. yet pain ne’er ceases to hollow me out. then through a barren vessel i catch more rain, and pour it out upon the parched terrain. just when i thought enlightenment was nigh, a sharp edge is discovered. must it necessitate additional sandpapering from the wind? when will the gemstone sparkle without further pressure? does it lie in its power to simply shimmer sans duress? perhaps it was dazzling at its inception, relinquishing its luster upon domestication. with this proviso, as it nears twilight i shall tarry and blend with the night. i’ll dance with a moonbeam knowing the jewel will glisten afresh upon the rise of the golden sun.
@2016janetaylor
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
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Malls superceded forests,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.
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 5:40 AM UTC
"Nita, what do you NEED ?"
I HATE it when someone asks me that question!
"Nita, What do you need?"
NEED: “require”… “want”… “necessitate”
"What do you need right now. You don't have to do this in isolation."
"What do you need right now? I am not afraid of the little girl."
"What do you need right now? If you need something I am here to listen."
"If you don't think you are safe, then what do you need from me or others or yourself?"
Why does it matter what I "NEED"? Why do you ask me when you are not going to be able to grant that/those "NEED(S)"?
Is my Survivor Fairy Godmother asking you for a list of Nita's NEEDS so she can come wave her magic wand, sing, bippity, boppity, boo...and I'll become an unf@#ked kid?
Well, why didn't you say so!
Here's my list for the Godmother:
I NEED to be 'unf@#ked'. I NEED the voices in my head to stop. I NEEDED my evil father not to touch me. I NEED the flashbacks to stop. I NEED my body not to hurt. I NEED the fear to stop. I NEED for you to be here for me NOW like you WERE then. I NEEDED to be loved by my parents. I NEED someone to teach me what love really is. I NEED someone to show me that trust really does exist in this world. I NEED you to help me at night when I am suicidal and dissociative. I NEED you to be available after 10pm, when the hell started, you know, like you used to be...back when you actually cared about what I NEEDED. I NEED the little girl to stop whining and crying. I NEED to not have physical symptoms that relate to then. I NEED the nightmares to stop. I NEED the constant headaches to stop. I NEED my crohn’s to not be in a constant flare up. I NEED to stop having recurrent UTIs. I NEED the ****** Angry Girl to stop hurting me. I NEED to sleep. I NEED to want to live before I die.
I NEED you to hear me.
What? There is NO Survivor Fairy Godmother? NO magic wand?
I'm shocked! NOT!
I'm guessing that's why she never showed up then, either...I prefer to think that rather than her never answering my cries of: Please make him stop hurting me!
I NEED you to STOP asking me what I NEED Since we both know that those NEEDS will NEVER be my reality, and that it is actually more painful to ask for what you NEED and not get that need met, then it is to keep your NEEDS to yourself. At least that's true for me.
So...unless you have a survivor registry where I can resister for the aforementioned NEEDS, or, perhaps a survivor merit system where I can earn credits to 'buy' the above NEEDS (I'm not afraid of hard work)...then STOP ASKING ME WHAT I NEED!
Because we both know it does not matter what I NEED!
Can't undo what's already been done. We both know that.
What Nita "NEEDS" right now is a bottle of ***** and some cranberry juice…THAT is a NEED I can meet right now!
A TOAST!
Here's to: UNMET NEEDS
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
You wish for me to put in words
What I have to say
Like the answers that I've given
On their own
Could never relay
They come and go
Touch on fate
Dissipate and replicate
The disingenuous nature
That you frequently necessitate
Extend your olive branch
Then act like you feed me
When the branches are famished
Needy, condescending and deceiving Conceiving that I'm the villain
When I don't respond to how you react
Like you could perpetuate in me
The supposition for your tact
The fact that you lack any original clarity
Is the reason I'd never reach to you
Like I was Seraphim
The simple reason
That I'm writing all of this
Is simply just to prove to you
That I don't have to convince
I don't have to persist
Rehash, then reminisce
Like treading through faded memories with you
Will satiate my daily fix
I resist
Because I know exactly where I'm headed And you insist because that truth
Is what keeps us separate
Every second
You playcate on a pretense
When your intentions are crystal clear
And I can't provide that service
Or serve that purpose
While I'm standing here
To be perfectly honest
I never promised you anything
All I did was sigh and reply
To how your heart would so readily sing
Then you project your insecurities
Directly to my face
As if I was the one who gave them rise
Within the first place
Protecting your manipulations
While contemplating your motives
Are exactly the reasons we're done
Before we even started
I'm sick of being a punching bag
For someone acting devoted
And now it's been denoted
I've written you off, this story is done
This time you're in the subject line
Because you are truly NOT the one
Apr 9, 2019
Apr 9, 2019 at 12:45 AM UTC
and as being alone is not the same as lonliness...then perhaps "peacefulness" does not mean the silly liberal search for the end of hostilities
and as being a lover does not mean having *** with someone but merely implies a true commitment to humanity....then of course all things are seen in natural harmony
but then!
what would lady gaga say!
and as being a real soul does actually seem to necessitate the abandonment of cultural stupidity.......then perhaps our attempts to write down and express our feelings might possibly be the act of saving the world!
but then!
what would sarah palin say we really mean!
---
come
be free
it is better that way
i
Aug 26, 2010
Aug 26, 2010 at 10:04 AM UTC
For William and Meredith
For treatment of panic and anxiety disorders,
short-acting anxiolytics are generally recommended
to provide temporary bursts of clarity
but should be reassessed periodically for
usefulness and concerns regarding tolerance,
dependence,
and abuse.
Xanax releases dopamine into the brain
to function as a neurotransmitter to send signals
between nerve cells
including reward motivated behavior
and pathways known to reinforce addictive neuronal activity
Perhaps to build her,
you had to break yourself
amongst the glass of that summer day.
Leave her waiting for your hair to peek
around a weathered edge
toward a forgotten living room corner
You are still her Patron Saint.
A long shadow cast across a small ghost.
She still screams at the sky to stop raining
beats her fists down the path
to the house of death
unceasing, and changeless.
Prodding a dull,
familiar
wound.
One that leaves its mark,
with pain felt more
from memory
than from anything else.
Withdrawal and rebound symptoms commonly occur and
necessitate a gradual reduction
to minimize the effects of discontinuation.
Not all withdrawal effects are evidence
of true dependence or withdrawal.
Recurrence may suggest no more
than the drug having the expected effect
and that,
in the absence of the drug,
the symptom has returned to pretreatment levels.
Dec 18, 2016
Dec 18, 2016 at 6:23 AM UTC
You are witnessing a prodigious talent and promise, and to a lesser extent but still to the degree whereby it should keep you awake at night writhing in cold sweats, your life, slip agonisingly through your open and clammy palms. Promise means so little if not actualised. You have been granted chance after warning after fortuitous escape yet have blithely spurned every omen and will one day fall, swiftly and perhaps terminally. You are almost certainly depressed. You say you love your girlfriend, and you mean it wholeheartedly when you do, but you worry that the relationship perpetuates as without her there would be no reason to rise with the sun. Even if the relationship is unstable, and at times verging on the unhealthy, you believe you love her but are too great a coward to consider decisive action if that belief is to reside or subside. Your friends range from kind and honest yet deeply flawed to somehow toeing an inextricably thin line between dependability and duplicitousness. Conversations with a certain few of your friends necessitate decrying every undercooked ethos you've every conned yourself into believing you hold (you could well be the most hypocritical liberal to walk the earth, for you are innately and irrepressibly selfish) yet you still nod placidly as your conscience squirms. Grotesquely, like a beaten spouse, you crave the gaze of those who have treated you with the most insulting derision, but are too proud (of what?) and, a running theme, too cowardly, to stoop to a simple detante. You must change, for it pains you on a most base level to have to accept the feeble, whimpering, simpering spectre you have become. You must be bold, brave, unashamed in your convictions, anything but pursed and silent lips. You have a voice, and you must now speak loud enough for them to hear, for that which has become blunted must be whetted, sharpened, readied for battle to be unsheathed at an utterance. Heed the signs and change, for our sake. You, a milksop who attentively notes the sophistry of courage, you can still be brave, and you must be.
For one day you will be swelled with a courage and fortitude to fill your sails taut, enough to leave this place, forget these people and bear you away.
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 8:08 PM UTC
. . . go out into the evening,
leaving your room, of which you know each bit,
your house is the last before the infinite, . . .
(from Rainer Maria Rilke's "Eingang", MacIntyre translation)
The light which strikes my retina
as I look at the Great Galaxy in Andromeda
left there two million years ago.
(Hominids made tools from stone then, but had not yet
learned the use of fire.
Genetic material from certain of these hominids has been passed
from one being to another and now is in my own body.)
Millennia from now, humans who have
colonized the farthest reaches of our galaxy,
laboriously creating and maintaining Earth-like atmospheres,
will marvel that there once was a place so perfectly suited to
human life
that such labor was unnecessary. (Just as we marvel that orchids,
whose precise temperature and humidity requirements would seem to necessitate a greenhouse, grow wild in the Amazon.)
I cannot believe in a personal God,
intervening in human affairs, but stand in awe
of the terrible force which set the stars and galaxies in motion
--strewing them like so much confetti--;
the life-force running through each living creature,
as straight and true as a ray of light from that galaxy in Andromeda,
willing us to live, grow and be fruitful.
Jul 30, 2017
Jul 30, 2017 at 4:04 PM UTC
They say the neon lights
Don’t often burn that bright
Splintered from my urethra
Swollen in this hex
Devoured by the Eve
Brought to justice by the guilt
And when they said
That all I had to give
Wasn’t worth a fitful look
I’ve been duped by sedative
The artificial power
Has swollen in my head
Wrapped around an ice pick
Can be found my fleeting shell
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
That sweet nectar
Lingers on my tongue
An inebriated hour of reverie genuine
A claustrophobic detainment
Incarceration with power windows
As your effigy is left behind
These shiv grasped hands
Awaiting exertion, transpierce my eyes
Upon introspective re-inspections
Ichor transmogrifies
Necessitate me
Remain vacant here
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
dreamt in strange shifting blocks, interwoven and with startled faces, sentencings spoken wordless. woke up to the blurry thought:
sometimes in talk, i am confronted with ideas that in no way reconcile with my own structures. in response, i often choose to not say anything, or let it uncomfortably sit in my gut. in cases where the opposing point won't be heard, i suppose this is alright. but, when my own rooted beliefs are challenged in a valid manner, it is more akin to the silence of shame than of dignification. is this symbolic of the internalisation of a more sound philosophy, or inability to process it against the grain of my own?
avoiding argumentation where it is of little purpose is one of my prime conversational aspects, and in an overarching paradigm avoiding unnecessary speech in general. but what internally portrays as tact can come off as indignant coolness, or bitter indifference. so, do i continue to speak in only the meaningful outer lashes, or let down the floodgates to some degree?
human interaction doesn't need necessitate grave importance at all junctions, and sometimes the most comforting talk can be of nothings (which i still find myself often party to, despite my self-portrait of filtered short-spokenness).
how do i open myself more to accepting or understanding when points are more sensible than my own, and integrating them into my consciousness? for, surely, if i disavow myself from giving up dated sentiments, i shall truly stagnate.
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Some call me a genius.
Some call me insane.
My friends say I'm a tragedy.
My parents say I'm just a little eccentric.
Tell me what you think.
I am nothing but a puppet.
Being handled and tossed around.
After awhile I'm just set aside.
I'm diverting at first, almost enjoyable, but, in the end, a bitter pill to all.
I apperceive no need to breath.
I have to necessitate my lungs to swell with air, then to shrivel, and epitomize the essence of life.
That's where my eloquence comes from, or it's the insanity. I'm not sure.
In my frigid, obscured, irrecoverable mind, insanity is eloquence, eloquence is tragedy, and tragedy is beauty.
I exist for the darkest of romances, the most distorted of lives.
It brings me what's closest to a sense of your "well-being".
I hate, therefore, I love.
So if I love hate, then, I love circles.
That's what my love is, a circle.
The grasps of reality, though persistent, quickly overwrought and became transient to me not very recently, but not too long ago.
I will abruptly tear down and rip to shreds any mark of social normality in or around me.
Now, will you decide whether I live or die?
Or shall I for you?
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:24 PM UTC
I'm writing a poem of alliteration,
Promising perfunctory proliferation,
Rendering ragged rambling randomness,
Scribbling stupid spasmodic silliness.
Finding words requires a Thesaurus,
Collecting curses chirography causes,
Needs necessitate natural nuances,
Instead incredible imaginary influences.
This task is beginning to wreck my head,
Beating boredom before bed,
Wretched wistfully wandering words,
Agreeable arrangements absolutely absurd.
Keeping it logical is becoming a bind,
Maelstroms merging, mashing my mind,
Deranged, despairing, definitely diminished,
Fortunately, fudging finally finished.
Cinco Espiritus Creation
26/09/17
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 3:46 AM UTC
*the alphabet is incorrect when nouns come to use,
why necessitate the ordeal of a, b c... x, y, z -
the first sequence an order of literacy,
the second sequence an order arithmetic -
the correct lineage of letters from henry ii
to richard the i, to king john was written
in the minor carta of (bytes): tetra-, petra-, exa-,
zetta-, and crucially yotta-; everywhere transgressions
of the original standard arrangement of
the first memory placebo you learn at school,
placebo memories out of schooling,
ineffective memorisation swayed by the self,
and soon that lost too; memories that shall please
the doctrines, where once we were coalminers
of our selves looking for that nugget of cold,
by being schooled to restrictions, we found only
many nuggets of coal, and as they say: the cold
grey en masse realism of being suited and booted
with the sole reward: procrastination and procreation.*
indeed quantify in the realm
of ∞ (infinity),
but then express a quality
of 1 (the union disregarding
obstructions of centimetre,
millimetre and nanometre,
or the excess of gigabytes)
avoiding the kantian symbolism
of 0 - negation - of any
number to your liking given
power over the base:
with the squared acidic or otherwise,
mitigating ∞ of the unfathomable,
to search for deo sapiens
is to search for yourself
when others defined you in
the narrated enclosure of **** sapiens
and the 20th century's failures:
it's the pedantry of unlearning
praying to something and simply
thinking about it: secular ****
and you the wriggling anaemic tadpole.
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 8:15 AM UTC
I crave to stain your lips with my name
Easing every syllable, vowel, and consonant across your tongue
Excavating into the base of your throat
Edging through your lungs
Becoming your every breath and sigh alike.
I desire to drip my mind down your back
Lacing every thought I can through the notches of your spine
Allowing ideas to glide across tranquil shoulder blades
Enable my intellect to become your most sumptuous support system.
I necessitate tracing my soul across your collarbone
Purr my subconscious into the deepest crevices of your chest
Inspire my pneuma up and down your incomparable neck.
I can make you feel meaningful again,
Touch me so I don't feel so empty anymore.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 3:02 AM UTC
The more absurd the concept,
The easier it is to see
That, forthwith, it will be taken
To a ludricous degree.
Group A will declare it—
An issue of great import.
Group B will tag it preposterous
And demand their day in court.
Group C comes to the forefront,
With inconsequential facts,
And will use them as the basis
For ad hominem attacks.
Group D calls a conference,
Claiming they have the solution,
Which will (naturally) necessitate
A violent revolution.
Then somebody sets off a bomb;
Now it’s page one news.
Panels of experts will be convened
To express their cogent views.
Disquiet and anxiety
Will sweep across the nation.
Each side blames others for everything,
From abortion to inflation.
Are we witnessing the fateful events
That will tear our world asunder?
Nah! It’s just the banal anatomy
Of the latest nine day wonder.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC
I don’t know if you know this,
but I'm a tolerant non-conformist.
I know it's easy to have missed this,
but I've found it essential to co-exist
on an island as small as this,
in a city as full as this,
and that if I want to both resist conformity
and live with a degree of grace-ful harmony
I must persist in my pursuit of resistance
against an unnecessary distance
between me and those who live with difference.
And the more I live my difference
I find that non-conformity
doesn't necessitate exclusivity
and needn't be an excuse
for a self-righteous harsh disharmony.
And instead I'll walk with those most unlike me
to find and celebrate the common thread
of our mutual uncommon humanity.
Feb 26, 2023
Feb 26, 2023 at 5:20 AM UTC
i don't know where to start
im so far from enlightened
my mind was fright, my energy syphoned
by a energy less than excitement
but my heart is lightened
you were the alarm that woke my subconscious
that was weary from fighting with sub par reality
and took to a nap
your energy like a lightening
it still strikes me
the day broke, shaking my dimensions back to hiding
I wasn't lucid dreaming, this was living
and the heightened sense of reality
something to be rivaled
I wanted to take that night
bottle it up, turn it on to remind me
but it ran to the hearts and souls of everyone around us
this master of positivity energy we manifested
was meant to be shared
I captured a little bit of the positivity to take with me
and share with my reality
now, our energy is daunting
teasing through the waves of internet monotony
exhausting itself to half finished tales of life and reasoning
sleeping only when brought to unity
something about this was meant to be
a love bound by energy
doesn't necessitate a physical bonding
it transverses the planes of reality
coursing through an elated sense of understanding
to reconcile thoughts between the two energies
nothing is left to misunderstanding
when synchronization and harmony and peacefully vibing
I lost my cadence and rhythm
to let go to a flow I don't usually show
because my thoughts are skipping a filter
and finding themselves racing out the gates of my finger tips
change and progress are soon to find us
in a state of mutual harmony
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
and in the manner of a dying man
who has seen unfortunate things too well
who has tried to speak what we need to know
for the pain of death is too hard to bear
if we must face the darkness all alone
(and we must face the darkness all alone)
for the world has grown so dark, my friend
and we have also grown so very old
as each tiny moment of loveliness
each hint of love in each or any face
each and every glimmer of decency
each and any glimmer of human-ness
and as our courage does all fear replace
and we can see the mountain top again
and we can face the raw and bitter fact
that the world's been stolen; to take it back
does a truer power necessitate
than we have yet to show or demonstrate
"i love you" spoken without no vanity
"i love you" spoken with no trace of shame
..,,,
Jun 24, 2010
Jun 24, 2010 at 4:02 PM UTC
We listen, we share, we care
Yet have the audacity to dare
Long has been the journey
From stereotypes to modern distinction
We carry a heart of empathy
Yet hold the ground against oppression
The line however gets grey at times
When we lose sight of the motive
It's not to get better or supreme
But to change minds that are corrosive
Idea is not to necessitate validation
Or find reasons for retaliation
But to co-exist in ecosystem
Without any unrealistic criticism
Let's think deeper, with this beautiful tome
By Ram Dass
'We are all just walking each other home'
Oct 24, 2020
Oct 24, 2020 at 3:03 AM UTC
You enigmatic freak of nature
The way your voice bows
And the guitar sounds
And your legs stomp forward to catch the beat
All while keeping a smile on your face
Your hands fly everywhere, your mouth is a vessel of peace, love and harmony
And I can’t bring myself to move away from you
You tell me…
“Move like you want, move like you need”
And I do all though I am trying not to
I am drawn to your inner wildings
And the way you can’t sit still
I enjoy the calm of you
Because it doesn’t come quite often
The whole of you is beautiful
And I love the way your spirit leads
I just want to be next to you
Be near you
When you vibrate…
It’s soothing to stand in your essence
I don’t think I’ve felt a movement quite like this
It doesn’t even necessitate you touching me
This is an ode to the being you are, the spirit in you
Keep moving
Don’t sit still
People might forget how to feel something.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 2:14 PM UTC
.
Because they are simplistic
All the same
Trivial and hence non -threatening
and necessitate absolutely no understanding
Of human nature
Or the world around us
And by the pretense of suffering
So easily manufactured by the genre
We can escape all real human responsibility
::
They are ultimately completely toxic and shameful
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
twas the bright idea of zee missus aye air
and dedicate this poem
(yes tis correct, if you bare
lee remember this mister
did formerly she push duck clear
addressed said spouse
"my little buttock blaster" en dear
ment - for obvious reasons,
and before she begat two 'ere
rip press ably lovely daughters),
anyway thee wife I fear
to publicize contracted a benign
strain sans incurable glare
ring housecleaning malady
(thus far no unpronounceable hair
raising name affixed
to non contagious nonetheless
accursed malady,
whereby to keep at bay,
scrubbing stubborn stains
from clothes, dishes,
and gamut of hibernating
Ursine horde (nee motley crue)
that come breathing alive
Nsync with beastie Bay
City Rollers Culture Club bing babes
upon first spring day
engrossed in this, that,
or some other sweeping floor foray
(analogously to Velveteen Rabbit)
shedding gray
winter coat when warmer temperatures arrive,
where humungous fur clumps would lay
comprising sudden empty raft
of shelf space minus a may
zing globules, oh...lemme get on track,
whence frenzied fever "cleaning bug" nee
major virus afflicting wife,
would necessitate impossible task
strapping former
feisty Norwegian farm gal
in straight jacket ivingsocial every
would be no game to play
boot tiring and cruel task of her life Yukon say
24/7 daily challenge,
which unpredictable timeframe
thine remaining lifetime sans wife oye vay
would frank lee zap
every last oomph of mine
if able twin door remaining with spouse
meanwhile 'til she obliviously
plucks persistent sprouting stranded follicle
tiller broad forehead resembles
a minuscule tarmac way.
Feb 1, 2018
Feb 1, 2018 at 11:32 PM UTC
(for Thom Hickey)
It is, one supposes, a business establishment, if just barely
Though more than one would-be shopper,
Having been squeezed against some ancient china cabinet
Or banging an unsuspecting knee
Against some camouflaged table leg,
Has opined that it as if four walls and a low-slung ceiling
Had suddenly thrown themselves about a yard sale,
In any case the place being filled with such things
Which are, if by no means useless bric-a-brac,
Rendered unremarkable, even somewhat undesirable
By their very familiarity,
And in the midst of this rabbit warren of commerce
(Holding an ancient clarinet in his left hand,
Wand-like, a bemused Prospero considering its pros and cons)
Is the proprietor of the shop,
And he notes that you have stopped
In front of some sixties flying-saucer-cum-willow-tree lamp,
And he says Ah, well let me tell you something about that,
Holding forth on its manufacturer,
The curious backstory of its design,
And how he came in possession of several other pieces
At the same time, and of course they have their own tales as well,
And you can't help how this confusion of things of former lives
Has suddenly taken on a certain light, a glow even,
The illumination of shared memory,
The recollection of why such things hold a place
In our pasts and presents, and after you exit
You give in to the musing that there were some items
You did not give due consideration,
Which may necessitate a return trip.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 7:56 PM UTC