Disgusting,

tongue stuck out,

nose closed;

she always hated it,

and no matter what

we’d press and press,

forcing her to stomach

things she never wanted,

smelling that sourness,

those vinegar troubles

and tangy juice

covered in coercion;

we’d ask her time and time again

and never once did we respect her wishes.

Why must I consume?

is it not enough to exist,

is that not enough consumption?

How greedy it is

to expect me to take

more than I desire,

to force me to eat another

out of house and home.

That’s kind,

so very kind,

a sickly kind,

the sort of “kindness”

that destroys marriages,

uproots families and destroys psyches.

I’m not like that,

I don’t want to be controlled.

But we kept on shoveling

these aged, old traditions,

those nasty pickled ideas,

those greedy, grubby hands

of control over her,

and she could never let herself forgive.

#rambles #poetry #control #prompt

we can build a fire,

and listen to songs

about all the things

we almost had,

but still miss,

and we'll make a toast

to the words

floating just out of reach,

whiskey on ice

and the bitter taste

of reality,

and we'll smile when we see

that none of us are

drinking alone tonight,

that none of us are.

alone.

all missing the same things

in different ways,

finding solace in the laughter,

maybe a few tears before dawn,

and words that taste like blood

as they leave us,

that look like love,

another round for all of us

still pretending to be whole,

still drinking slow enough

to greet the sun.

and if morning finds us

with all our words spent,

may the ashes of our pens

be scattered,

and may the pieces

float lighter

because they know,

the sharing of ink

has given us wings.

And he knew

That between those lines

Between the linen

And restricted breaths

What was there

Was always his

To find

He calls me darlin. And angel, and pumpkin.

He calls everyone darlin, but his tongue snaps the roof of his mouth a little differently, when he says it to me.

We met in a bar. It's where I've met most of my men. But the night I met him, my past evaporated. The bar was empty. It was a grand opening, unadvertised and failed.

But not for us.

That night, I wore a typical first date getup. Something grown up. With a veil of confidence, stating "I know what I want," laced with some, "Don't worry, I'm a sure thing."

I ordered a manhattan, extra sweet. A splash of maraschino cherry juice, to remind me of my childhood.

He doesn't drink much, he has an ulcer. But that night he ordered scotch on the rocks. I guess he too was playing a part.

I've worn nothing but torn flannel and heavy eyeliner since that first night. And I almost always start with draft beer now.

He did get lucky that night, but that "luck" has since unfolded into a friendship birthed outside of time. His soul welcomed mine back from before time. Before creation. Where it belongs.

And, darlin, he is now and always will be my angel--guarding and walking with me--into the end of time and beyond.

My life.

Just turbulence.

Fast moving color mixed with noise.

Blended to a precise degree.

At just the right angle..

It almost looked beautiful. 

Open your eyes and behold

From seas arisen lofty tides

Tall and billowy, she bore worlds in her depths

Seven fathoms, ten thousands billows

Winds roared, and met the waves midair

Heavenly tumult engaged

For a war of a scale so great

And forces so majestic

Small wonder froth broke out

And died upon pebbled shores

Such fury thus raged on

Three days, three nights

A perpetual onslaught of gusts and surfs

Raging from coast to coast

Till the coast an eddying depth

Mighty swells, a rising flow

That bent barricades and bowed to no hurdles

See, you awful eye she raptured all fortifications

They call her storm, queen of brine!

I wear exhaustion like a necklace

while weariness scratches my throat.

I can't chase words down because time ticks away with a vengeance ...

I'm supposed to be happy and look pretty,

but rest is just a joke that plagues me ...

and when the sun rises, it laughs,

mocking my sleepless nights ...

bonding with the glow of the moon,

hope has faded and longing turned to worry ...

I'm so tired.

Sol waves a forlorn goodbye

to last kiss of sunlit aquatic dreams,

The spellbound majesty of the full moon

draws the tides to its blonde pulchritude

heaving bosom of the ebb and flow

creeps in white billows of foam

up the walkways where no footsteps

tread until the morrow dawns again

in harmony with the flow of life

washing clean the travesties of man.

Sleight of hand of tidal motion chanting

we are the magic, wiping grains of sand

from your weary eyes of pain and suffering -

a fresh wash of tears from the swelling seas.

Our earth is being raped

by sloppy thugs uncaring

ravaged landscapes sullied

trees collapsing like dominoes

in poisoned tears of grief.

Polluted grey waters

struggling for breath

bird songs silenced

death knell for creatures

honey bees extinct.

Slipshod humans

sacrifice our world.

Mother Earth

will close her doors

unless humans

open their eyes.