Full-time Fake
Slowly killing myself each day to be the person I thought everyone wanted me to be. Now I feel as shallow as my grave. The one my persona dug. And I worry that when I look at the camera, people can see it. The old me I killed. That hides just beneath the surface, underneath what was supposed to be a temporary act, not a permanent play.
My grave. My obituary never saw the light of day.
And I fear the only one who grieved, was me.
Green
Your eyes knew my heart as intimately as that mouth of yours.
Green. Your shade of green was a revelation to me. When I walked into the forest, the moss beneath my feet seemed to hum with the knowledge that beauty always comes with heartbreak.
If "you", the one reading this, were to ask, "How do you know?"
My only answer would be to ask the one with the green eyes, the one who held my heart only to give it back to me.
The one who I can no longer look at moss without weeping.
I tread not on soft ground where your body was a bed I found solace in.
Now I walk on stones, bloodied, and desperate to forget your shade of green.
The only green I ever see now.
My heart bleeds a melancholy green for you still
but
you are nowhere near to see it.
her own villain
She loves him
because he doesn't know she exists.
She climbs the mountain even when there's an easier path.
All she knows is hardship,
when she's the one who creates it.
She builds herself up just to tear it all down again.
She feels as if she has a purpose,
if only to be the reason she keeps moving forward.
A Purpose to Fill
What came from a seed, saw itself through sunny hot days, to unexpected cold spells, from too much or too little rain...what has fought so very hard to not only live but to thrive has a gift to give.
Can you begin to imagine the power in feeding the hungry....to be responsible for helping a child grow tall and strong, giving them the energy they need for all day long? How about seniors who live by barely scraping by...my gosh can you imagine how sweet it must be to fill their plates? What about the men and women who proudly serve our country...what an honor to give them nourishment.
What came forth from those little seeds, I can only imagine how it must feel so very happy knowing that it has blessed those who were able to enjoy the nourishment received....but what about all the waste, all that which was thrown away....the heavy sadness that must be felt of knowing it could have been on a plate...it could have been in a belly....
Thank God for the farmers who work so hard from sunup to sundown. In the land of plenty.... sadly there are plenty who do not have....
Lord, thank you for the food....bless it from the farmers to the tables....Please let all the food find its way to every soul so no one ever misses a meal.
Peppermint ice-cream
It's my eyes filled with envy
Shoots of asparagus, canopies and tree-tops
Granny Smith apples
Tart and pleasingly crunchy
The skin of a melon
The flesh of a kiwi
The heart of white wine
A sparkling emerald
My face before I puke
Peppermint ice-cream
Heads of broccoli
Go! blinks the traffic light
Australia at the Olympics
Naivety or inexperience
Tree creatures: frogs, snakes, cicadas
A symmetrical four leaf clover
Fresh from the garden
Spinach, rocket, lettuce
A medley of herbs as well
Basil, parsley, coriander
It can be monstrous too
Look! It's Shrek and the Grinch
Corporations can chase it
For some favourable PR
A split pod of peas
Aloe for my sunburn
A promise of spring
Ever-y tree that keeps it's leaves
It's a thumb in a garden
That makes the plants grow
It's that grass on the other side
That's always better than where I am
It's bathing in nature
A pleasing vista
An abundance in nature
The opposite of drought
A world without it
Is all jagged edges
It's sandy and dusty
Dry and harsh
It Should Be Green
As I stand by the side of the road, which is as close as I can get right now, I look out at the woods I know so well. I spent my childhood in those woods – exploring, hiking, climbing. Those trees, the rocky dirt trails hidden under their branches, the stream that runs through them – they hold so many memories.
Somewhere under those trees is the spot where I fell in love for the first time. I can remember staring up at the stars as he timidly reached out and took my hand in his. I was so nervous that I couldn’t stop giggling.
I caught my first fish on the lake just a mile down the road. I was seven years old. I can remember standing on the lake's shore with my dad’s hands on mine, pulling my pole back and letting it fly. I can still feel the excitement at the first tug and my delight as I posed for a picture, my proud dad all smiles behind the camera.
My first real injury happened there too. I broke my ankle when I tripped on a rock. I remember tears streaming down my cheeks as I was carried down the trail.
I almost lived there once. After a fight with my mom, I packed my backpack with snacks and a change of clothes, grabbed my jacket, and left the civilized world behind. As the sun set, I thought I had found the perfect life – nothing but the stars above me, the ground beneath me, and the clean, open air around me. I went home six hours later, soaking wet from the rain.
I know those woods better than I know my own family, my own house. They have been my home when I felt like I didn’t have one. Those trees were alive long before I was born, and I always believed they would long outlive me.
But now, as I stare at that familiar tree line, only one thought crosses my mind.
It should be green.
Not red-hot with orange flames engulfing everything in their path and thick, black smoke rising into the air, blocking out the sun and the blue sky.
It should be green.
Boot-licker
One thing I can't stand
is a company man
who won't stand up with his peers
The need for acceptance
and the insecure perceptions
conspire to bolster their fears
When we all cry toxic
and you run and drop it
in the lap of the powers that be
We know where you stand
right behind the right hand
of every boot-licker we see
You think that they're hidden
the dicks that you've ridden
but we do not give you a pass
If anyone at the top
ever comes to a stop
your nose will go way up their ass
You'll never be crew
with the shit that you do
you're just too incredibly sus
You concoct false reality
to cloak your duality
to convince them you're better than us
You think that you're rising
while we're all surmising
you're banging your head against brass
They see through you too
because you're see-through
and nobody likes a kiss-ass
sown by you
Occasionally, it gets bad
and when I realize that
you are already gone,
It makes everything worse.
Why? Because I treat you
as a reward that I’d
achieve by doing things
that I don’t want to.
You are like the deep breath
someone would take with satisfaction
on finally completing an exhausting run.
you're the feeling of completeness.
The Submarine of Dream
We don't hear them
and never will
all the lisping voices
that emerge in waves
as soon as into sleep
we are submerged
the wonder, all about us
whispers in, like a tide,
of tangible shadows
breathed in, to surround us
with quick wrenches and
little heavy hammers,
asking this, and tweaking
that, in night vision googles
02.24.2024
Whispers in the Nighttime challenge @AJAY9979
Scombroid Paradise
You called yourself captain.
You dreamt of a New Land, Vast riches, and Fame,
and we swam alongside your vessel for ten thousand miles.
Promises were broken.
Delayed gratification
never rectified.
Eggs placed in the basket
decayed the fruit,
so, you served up fish instead.
and I ate it all.
Some are still eating.
Now I’m sick to my stomach
treading an uncharted sea
wondering if I’ll find land before you do
or before I die.
either way, I’m swimming North.
©2024 Chris Sadhill