Tag: Poetry

Darkness Falls

Echoes of grief

Creep into dreams.

Clamoring bells

Blast a hole

Into my memories.

Strange sentiments

Hover behind me,

Whispering temptation

To ecstasy.

To bite off a piece

Of reality—

That is my sentence.

To grab ahold

Of something nasty—

So close,

And yet,

Too far away.

To break through

Into another dimension.

To rage into the night!

Oh, so sweet.

So I lose my grip

On the pain

That haunts me.

Another journey.

It all seems

Plain to me.

So I surf right through

The Milky Way,

Cackling an insane laughter.

To be the one and only

Tortured company.

Let it burst into

A broken rip current.

Let it feed

On blood and gore.

Let it be—

Alone.

Can You Doubt It?

Pools of blood

Gathering beneath

The hanging body.

Breath goes out,

But doesn’t come back in.

Skin separated from the bones.

What is the truth?

They’ve washed their hands

Of any responsibility.

But can they wash away the blood?

Nightmares come

To remind the guilty.

Can you grit your teeth

And bare this torture?

Can you escape the horror?

This man was truly

From God.

Those who witnessed,

Cannot deny it.

Those who saw him later—

Walking, talking…

Breathing, eating—

Cannot shake the image

From their memory.

Restored but still wounded.

Put your finger

In my wrists and in my side.

He is alive!!!

Changing Gears

Sometimes there are reasons

For ways I think and feel,

And sometimes it just hits me

From out of nowhere.

I can’t plan a day ahead

Without being surprised

By something that happens

That changes my focus.

Being bipolar means that

Sometimes I am at the mercy

Of my mood. But that doesn’t mean

I’m helpless. I just have to

Constantly be aware

Of everything that affects me,

Inside and out.

It is a challenge,

But it’s possible.

Gone

Stilled.

The breath and the blood,

Slowing to a stop.

Where is the smile?

The laugh?

Or even the cry?

Seconds tick by…

No movement.

No voice calling.

What happened

To the thrill

Of living life

To its fullest?

What of risk,

Rides and rough-housing?

What of playing games,

Teasing and pranks?

What of kisses,

Hugs, and holding hands?

Life.

Gone!

Starting Over

Leave your heart

At the door,

Slammed shut,

With a thud.

Cover your eyes.

I don’t want you to see

How thin I’ve become,

Wasting away,

In loneliness.

And how I’ve hurt

On this special day.

How I wanted to say

Something cute,

Something caring,

Something happy;

But all that came out was,

“That’s nice.”

All I cared about

Was hiding my fear,

Not starting a fight again,

Over something stupid.

I want to start over.

I want to be closer.

I want to embrace your

Wilting body.

Let’s go down

To the river,

To drown our sin,

And come up again,

And bask in the sun.

Let’s hold each other again,

Like we once did,

When God smiled on us,

And we had not

A care in the world!

Fine

I’ll be fine.

Just give me a chance

To fill my prescriptions,

Snack on those potato chips,

Make a Walmart run,

Fill up the tank

Of my gas-guzzling SUV,

Smoke my cigarette,

Drink a couple of beers,

Go hunting with my pals,

Take my dog to the park,

Take a ride in my boat,

Zoom around on my motorcycle,

Take a hit of acid,

Chew a bite of snuff,

Go to worship at my church,

Feed the homeless in my community,

Read a book,

Lay out on the beach,

Jog for a couple miles,

Sleep in a few extra hours,

Have a cup of coffee,

Get laid,

Collect my paycheck,

Say a prayer.

Yeah, I’ll be fine.

Walmart Pariah

A woman stands at the entrance

With a shopping cart full

Of her cherished belongings,

Waiting patiently on the generosity,

Or, rather, pity, or worse, guilt,

Of the passerby, to convict,

To shame, or maybe, on the rare instance,

To inspire, to give a gift.

Aren’t we all like her,

Dragging our materials

From house to house,

Packing them away

For that rainy or cold day,

That is sure to come?

Aren’t we petitioners

To passing angels or demons,

Or a god that plays favorites,

To have mercy or just indulge us,

One more time,

So we can get our fix,

Spoiled children of a wealthy parent,

Taken a few wrong turns on the streets,

The pariah or prodigal reduced to

Yearning after the feed of pigs,

Coming out of Walmart with

Their baskets full?