Poetry – Page 78 – Stumbling along the sidewalk

On Writing

On writing,

On raving.

Real thoughts and actions.

Real life in color.

Sounds around, so loud,

It’s deafening.

Reality comes crashing

Through your door,

With blood-red eyes,

Razor-sharp claws,

And laughing all the same.

It’s such a joke,

To break into another

One’s life and jerk their

Brain back into existence.

Where it went is a mystery.

But it is here now,

You are here now.

And what have you got

To say for yourself?

What is your story?

What is your piece

To this twisted puzzle?

Come along

And ride with me…

Bloom in Any Weather

Iron sunflower stands tall above all.

Greets the small and greets them

Well. Metal monster sets the stage.

Not much paint, but who needs

Decoration when you stand in the

Wind and rain, tornados, too!

Creatures can’t invade your walls,

Except the ones that are real small.

A tower of strength sets the stage.

The power of age resides true power.

What it’s seen in all these years,

Older than any tree around here.

Mag 76

Magpie Tales

Did you taste that?

Mellow market adventure days,

Sweet and bitter smells both at once.

Looking for the fresh, but also the deal.

Familiar faces of all different races,

Just trying to make a living.

Squeezing, smelling, looking, tasting,

Hoping for that special food,

and where I live there is sweet potato pie

and sweet potato bread, scupanons and

mexican food I can’t pronounce (or spell).

There’s all kinds together in harmony.

Thursday Think Tank #60 -Market Days

Scenarios

Uncomfortably rich is such a drag when you’re

a bitch and fine and sexed. Cowboy haystack

humor runs for miles in the golden prairie.

Uncomfortable comes in paying those bills and

feeding those youngins. Uncomfortable comes to

the suburban youth, laying in bed in the dark,

wondering if and when a desperate ghost will

find his way inside to pilfer gadgets and gold,

the trappings of success. So many ways to find

uncomfortableness. Just pick a life.

Prompt #179 Uncomfortable

One Single Impression

Family Friction

Two of a kind,

One that used to be,

And one that is now.

Time in a flip,

The old are young,

And the young are mature.

Then, darkness falls.

A deep depression and

A bit of dementia.

I tried to barricade

Myself in a room

In your house,

But it was your room,

Your house.

I had become an outsider.

We had grown apart.

The jolly trickster that

Was my grandfather

Had become an unhappy

Old man.

And I had hit a wall,

Fallen into a deep pit.

We butted heads

Until we made it home.

To the end, you were true.

And I would not appreciate

Your love and loyalty

For many years, long

Past your time to die.

As I sat in the car,

Listening to the 21-gun

Salute, I remembered

The stories you used to

Tell me about the war.

And I realized that time

Had taken its toll on a

Wonderful man, a man

That provided for a wife

And family and then

For another generation of

Five grandsons, all of whom

Adored you.

I know that despite

Our differences, you look

Down on me from

Heaven…and smile.

Tricked by Honey

Mesmerized. Taken in slowly,

Then so fast you can’t stand it.

Room to grow but nothing doin’.

Alone, so very alone. Keeping one’s

Secrets close to home. Shame, shallow,

Around and around you go,

It’s all the same. Nothing changes

Until you get sick of it all. You can’t

Stand it anymore and you want to be free.

Outside influences aren’t worth much.

It is a personal, visceral decision.

To cut out one’s heart and throw it

Into the ocean! To separate oneself

From everything—everything that

Brings you closer. You must sever

That bond, all ties, or else you will be

Pulled right back under. It’s not a

Journey, it’s not a path. It’s a scream

In the dark of desperation. You are trapped.

You are suffocating. And you must be free.

Free Write Friday; Addiction

Lincoln

A student of law.

A seeker of justice.

A fighter for unity.

A man of dignity.

Lonely, in darkness,

Harrowed by demons,

Drained from the fight,

On the edge of sanity.

A Christian believer.

A martyr for the cause.

An honest gentleman.

A warrior for the truth.

*United States President Abraham Lincoln

Seasons

Couch potato meets samurai.

Postman meets iron man.

Administrator meets sanitation worker.

Contrasts in physical attributes.

Perhaps lifestyles, philosophies, sanitation

Relationships, goals,spirituality.

Achievements, awards, recognition.

There’s a lot of grey area for some.

For others, a rock-hard stop where they stand.

So what is the great evener?

What shows us all that we are the same

When it comes down to it, in the end?

It’s the rhythmn and the constancy

of the seasons. They come every year,

putting nature, and us, at their mercy.

So what of us? Are we too big, too anything,

to defy the forces of nature?

Death Waits

Tricks lick ticks from the tongue.

Reaching slowly for a gun.

Running swiftly for your son.

He won’t help you now.

Pray. Pray to the God of the Heavens,

That He will have mercy on your wretched,

Squeamish soul as you crawl through the

Dirt, hoping for one last breath.

Death comes to us all. Beneath our hopes

And dreams, denials and delusions, we all

Know it. Death whispers our name as we

Get ready for work, as we drive to work,

As we forget out troubles in our daily routine,

As we come home to our spouse and children,

As we lay our heads on the pillow and fade off

To sleep. Death watches us breathe. Death

Hears our yearnings, our curses, our sighs.

Death is our constant companion from “the

cradle to the grave”. Death waits.

Rewind and Undo

Divorce symbol in genogram — Image via Wikipedia

In my head I paint a picture

Of some day walking free.

All my hang-ups and delusions

Laying in a pile behind me.

In my head I paint a picture

Of no more medication.

No more need to medicate

No more side-effects.

In my head I paint a picture

Of family bonds and closeness

No more driving forever to get there.

No more procrastinating that phone call.

In my head I paint a picture

Of what my family might have been

Had love and understanding been the rule

Instead of fear and loathing.

In my head I paint a picture

Of foolish decisions unmade.

Broken relationships mended.

Hurtful words unsaid.

In my head I paint a picture

Of all the things that I regret

Somehow never happening

And I can sleep better after that.

Carry on Tuesday #115