Between your poisonous smiles,
Your heartless jokes and your
Razorblade Smile, I fell for the
Person I thought I saw:
The One
The cuts made, still hurt
They haven't closed up yet
Just flesh wounds but they,
They sting. They burn. It's
Been a day and that thin red
Line, the mark of your possession
Is still on me, marking me for
The world to see. You're my
Obsession, the world's Pariah
But they all bow before you
Wouldn't dare say a word in
Your presence, except to beg
At your feet for your cruel
Double-edged mercy. A day more
You reward them. Throughout
Eternity, you taunt them. The
Price is so heavy, yet they pay up
They can hardly resist. The price
Of Humanity, of Greed is fatal indeed.

The unchanging constant wherever
I may go. The Universe itself is
Undefined, except for you and your
Kin: Change. Time wasn't ever as
Constant as you; its fickle nature
Is as legendary as your promptness
Change was never as evident as you;
Its subtlety as infamous as the
Pungent, dark
Air you leave behind
In the lives of humans and animals alike.

1773

The Summer that we did not prize,
Her treasures were so easy
Instructs us by departing now
And recognition lazy—

Bestirs itself—puts on its Coat,
And scans with fatal promptness
For Trains that moment out of sight,
Unconscious of his smartness.

There is a whisper in the air that seems to yell only at me.
It come in gusts of wind gentle enough to tousle the most well kept hair.
I've know this pitch before.
Even in new places I find myself feeling old.

I haven't lived enough, and there isn't comfort or encouragement in knowing that.
I've held fast to road signs and tree stumps as friends,
kissed their coolness and their groves.
Both these structures can be moved by cars, probably the wind too.

I use to hold hands as if they held me up.
Not a single hand, but a few whose voices prompted closeness.
Most people want promptness.
No one has lived enough, why would you say no?

Sometimes my feet ache when sitting, or when I walk down flights of stairs.
I think I am afraid of falling.
This ache tingles, I both fear it and like it.
At one point hands reassured safety,
like their very structure prevented tumbles.

I've felt this wind before, you see.
Dear girl you were the wind.
From far away you've reached me here and at some point I will tumble over.
I know there aren't hands structured for safety, you know that too.
We just use to pretend we weren't the one knocking one another down.
I never got it until now.

You're hair was never well kept dear Brittany, never well kept at all.
The change in color was artificial, and your constant flux much the same.
I use to see you as an exotic bird with all those colors.
I use to believe in your flight patterns.

The wind does not favor the birds Brittany.
The wind does not favor you.

It’s cold outside and the leaves have taken refuge in the tall untrimmed grass. Night comes quicker and the sun works part-time these days. Inside, the three brothers fluctuate the heat just enough to stay warm and keep their wallets trimmed at the same time. They were running around finalizing the last parts of The Holiday. The Holiday fell on a Wednesday and they were ready for the best time of the year.

6:29 PM was what the time read on every clock with the exception of the clock in the bathroom which ran ahead 4 minutes to ensure promptness. They would be here in seconds. With last mirror checks they ran to the living room awaiting the knocks on the door.

6:30

PM Only one knock came through from result of the eagerness of the eldest, two young ladies walked through one after the other. Hugs were given all around but kisses only exchanged between 4. It was time to leave but one guest was still missing.

6:42 PM

five are in attendance awaiting the sixth, four of them restless and the other worried. Figuring a reasonable amount of time has passed since call number 2 he then redials the phone contact, “My Love” and puts the phone to his ear. On the other end a cell phone is ringing somewhere with the caller ID “Him <3” but again no answer. Pacing the room now brother 2 of 3 is beginning to lose composure despite the comforting words of his 4 companions. Prepping to call again, his phone rings and is answered before the melody on his phone began. It was her.

Gleaming with relief and joy number 2 answers with a bright and hopeful, “hello” followed by a confused, “Yes I am.” His brothers and their beautifully dressed guests watch hopelessly as they realize it’s not who it is supposed to be. The phone now away from his face the receiver is asking in the room if he was still on the line. Sinking to the earth but caught by the floor he dropped the phone.

6:53 PM

Eleven minutes later they arrived at the scene of the accident ... Glass sparkles from a mixture of the newly fallen snow and the lights from the emergency sirens. Running toward the stretcher where she laid lifeless the downcast officer tried to restrain the inconsolable young man. When he reached her he grabbed her hand repeatedly saying her name and imploring her to come back. it was when he began kissing her bloodied and torn hands that they lost him forever. Kissing her hand in hopes to revive his lost love did he then come upon the diamond engagement ring he given her the day before, only hours prior to the last time he would have heard her say I love you, or anything for that matter.

As the man hit the ground his brothers were there immediately at his side as they watched the ambulance drive off, taking her further and further away from him on the last holiday he would ever remember.

6:59 PM

You will never know
my African king how
much I adore you, the
dream of many dreams
inside your soul that
sparks the fire inside
my heart, dark temptations
of desire within intelligence
and resilience, commitment
and fulfillment, gentleness
and promptness, hustle and
flow, emotion and motion,
sacrifice and aspire, the forever
love songs that shine in your sight.  
Your melanin glow brightens
my spirit, every deep hue a bold
beautiful canvas crafted in
stunning perfection.

Socrates, the professor cat,
Loves to teach and lecture.
Whether he gets his point across
Is sometimes merely conjecture.

When left alone for a period of time,
He'll meet you at the front door
Where he will greet you on your return
And also give you what for.

"Excuse me," he says in his feline way,
"But you would be obtuse
If you failed to see that your actions
Border on cat abuse.

"Yes, we're independent, BUT
Frankly, my dear, you seem
To want to exploit our autonomy
By taking it to the extreme."

He lectures for quite a while, for he
Wants you to do your best
When the time approaches for you
To take another test.

"You know we value promptness," he adds,
"And I don't mean to be rude,
But when our dinner is not on time,
We're NOT in a very good mood.

"Research, you know, is vital and your
Failure to study impedes
A total understanding of what
Constitutes our needs."

He constantly tries to teach you patience
And thinks your dedication
To knowing his mind for both of you
Is a win-win situation.

If you misplace something, such as
Your watch, your keys, or a ring,
He'll stare at you as if to say,
"Oh, you poor, poor thing."

When you're frazzled, his calm demeanor
Implies that you at least
Would benefit from the study of ancient
Wisdom of the East.

He likes to observe from afar as you
Go about your activities,
Ever watchful to see if you are
Developing harmful proclivities.

At other times he just sits back
To see how much you've learned
And tries to silently calculate
How much praise you've earned.

If he desires a tasty treat
And thinks that you're withholding
Something from him, you'd better watch out:
You'll be getting a scolding.

Admonishingly, he says, "Do NOT
Think my methods nefarious,
It's just that learning broadens your being.
Take it from THIS Sagittarius."

You think you're one step ahead of him--
At least so you assume.
But Socrates will let you know
Who is teaching whom.

-by Bob B (2-16-20)

It took an abstract realization,
something that I had never noticed ever before.

Where there was a semblance of monotony
there existed the essence of change
the actuality of reality
even to the smallest degree, such as the subtlety of how fast, or slow, my locks grew,
in centimeters.

Oh!
The informative nature of such a nuance amplified my rage!

Teenage angst was somehow removed with its perpetual sway
it crawled slowly constantly prompting our celestial commander to descend
solar illumination abated
nocturne shielded its rhythmic gait in a way
the presence of this frame cordoned off at 15 years
that made its movement seem a hasty thing
in its grip, initially, I was a child
now, I am a man
I lavishly lament the awkward promptness of anything I have gained.

All in due…

Was I due to manage it?
Over moons, many a pressured slumber
I rest still
my education
my locks that grew
subtle that pace
wisdom I have gained
that familiar melody of change
the alpha that arose
until omega was due to settle the earth
hands, arms, that consistently illustrate the change – “tick, tick, tick”
oh, that familiar tune it plays.

Being older,
my eyes can detect its forceful ways
unsubtle
however, I can manage it
I force it to behave.
Although, it still has me bound tightly within its clutch forever
yet, still,
I have synchronized our pace
the older I become it grips my hand tighter
together we are trekking my lifeline
now, I comprehend it.

Now I have time.

Jonah Singleton 2024