Red Twine

Sliding in between
the sheets & the lines,
Child…
don’t read so deeply,
if anything to keep
the skin on your back.

Everyone makes mistakes,
but you know You
only have so many slips,
there’s only a number
of falls allotted,
thus you must step More
wisely…

Tread lightly, for there is
a wolf in the woods
waiting w/ more patience
than you ever could.
True, you wear a hood like
little Red, but know your bed
isn’t so innocent as hers.

Look, dumb ass, there’s
blood even running down your
inner leg.
So clean up,
look around & do yourself
a favor…

Blooming in the dark

10/24/13 |All but no more Nothing |

A hard act to follow w/ nothing left inside . A hollow vessel yet laced w/ antipathy .

While you were gone it died . While you have been away I lost everything .
& I am happy to be dead finally . & I am pleased to no longer be a living aphorism .
Now melting away into obscurity for a new fashion of unheard purity .
Silence let it be let it be w/out such distinct messaging to the masses saying : such
a hard act to follow . . .
I swallowed & excreted what there was to be said & now there is nothing , just
a vast rip of space w/out bottom w/out even chance to rot , because
there’s more coming . Another body of work will take place & perhaps they
will no longer come looking for trace of truth so boldly displayed that
they may be able to see something for once in between sheet & in between lines .

All that will be heard though is the deep ring of nothing possible to follow .

*

|Still , however changing|

Rejection mass indifference calculating high ground for direction .
Same feelings remain : what love but no demand for happiness . Passage
to place perhaps I may belong beyond grasp or reach of anyone . Only another
love song in bed 6 hours minutiae of what time frame won’t persist .
In mine something swells reeling sweet dropping droplets waiting return .
Back discussion percussion words not misses w/ no need for flattery . Really ___
we have what we need . Time & patience , no rushing for high tide to elation .
True , I am changing . Rejecting pattern for another ground to own up my own .
It is worth what effort made for bond as change takes another world w/
different words to place , shifting whether understood or kicking the gut of
Banter . Not slander , but a loss of respect . Asked for by a slap .
I only know for one return . Scarecrow , not the crow , gets spit in the eye ,
not warm hellos . We’re past that since abandoned last ___ .

Nailed

Splits & divides plus bridges & merges in this life
my mind has already shattered into particles___
we take all this solidity & texture for granted, but it’s not,
Payment for birth is death, w/ every trial & error in between.
on occasion we are wronged___ truly hurt
& perhaps a finger could be pointed, but mostly we have
to look at ourselves & ask a few questions,
How can you really be angry at life w/out just hating yourself?
alone joins creative emptiness creates fire
change as an element, being as a reason to thrive
Not stagnate,
which doesn’t necessarily mean procreate 
to teach
Splits & divides plus bridges & merges
your mind will shatter into particles 
& you will move through chaos w/ grace
you will be protected, but you will be harmed
love will be known & hate will be experienced, just don’t
paint yourself as victim
because in this life you have to carry your own.

                                          

Mask of light

Discussing eugenics & WWII
over a hearty bowl
w/ a friend I hadn’t seen
in a year, it became obvious
our priorities have
changed due to watching
the race
ramp up to go mad
as a whole,
not just individuals

the two of us laughed
healthy & bright
at the prospect of strapping
bat & shovel across our backs
in post-apocalyptic times,
because now it seems
inevitable
because now we’re at
the edge & to
be able to laugh is
the best weapon we’ve got

poem title: A crack on the edge, published by Rolling Thunder Press issue # 11

Shadow of a window

A beginning when moving forward only 
in shattered fragments of
various characters
of various timings & cycles, patterns
when time itself barely exists 
& how do we conduct ourselves now?

There’s a journey ahead, a journey
I’ve been on since only I can remember
but there’s tenderness & a crackle,
thinking throughout the day
pondering on the weight of time
all around you but unable to grasp,
just things, just things…

It is a road
there are clouds &
solid ground
& it requires transition, see
to touch
more than just things.

Perhaps I can just be myself
finally___
not having to tune someone’s drivel out
if I accept them, because I know 
it’s worth something more than a thing.

Having. But not possessing.

Box 2 Finding strength

I preach strength because I’m scared
& sometimes I can’t believe how insecure I am, but it’s not just me, it’s everyone

In a box

New lines
groove
into aging hands
as all folds
before our eyes

we grow &
die as body
society
government &
humanity

we fight
a war w/ ourselves
& still we grow
salvage
& create w/
an undeniable
magnitude

nature
remaining our
savior
all the while

so tell me:
what fear should
we have if 
suffering
be our lot before
peace
can be met