Is Anyone There?...
The cars sit parked
between painted lines
over cracking concrete...
each car resembles
a living thing
so solitary in it's
each fixed vessel
hides a great will,
behind the wheel
...to be seen...
... in time,
and for posterity.
The engine is ready
but the gps is
Where to ?
Where to ??
hums the motor
as the world looks
in this wait
Maybe not the first, but close enough.
Did you know that two days in a psych hospital costs
$20,000, without health insurance?
I have hit rock bottom many times, my dear.
For me, hope is the thing with feathers.
A motto a la Emily Dickinson.
I sat through those literature classes
And didn’t pay twenty grand for nothing.
You can’t hit rock bottom with wings.
A word is such a vague way of defining oneself, is it not? What's in a word that I may use one to describe me, I wonder? Perhaps I should use a flower or the description therein to define me. I have to give ample credit to the Bard of Avon, Shakespeare, for the possibility of such as he said it best when he wrote, "That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet "
Yes, after further contemplation, perhaps a blue violet flower is what would best describe me if I were to use a flower for such. I have always gravitated to a rich, vivid blue color, surrounding myself with as much of the color as possible, so perhaps I am defined by the color - or the word - blue. Blue is a calming color but full of a vibrancy that’s seen all about us in the skies, the butterflies, the oceans, the flowers, and the birds. I like to think that I am able to flit and fly about in the vast world, emboldened by all of nature that hums and beats around me. After all, we are one with the blue universe, much more than we often realize.
So, this very day, I will pick the deepest and most royal blue color to define myself, knowing I have chosen well and will be most content. Thus, going forward, I am forevermore defined by the word cyanic, the bluest of blues.
Cries for Help
Am I silencing my cries
Or I'm crying silence?
11 May 2021
How I can define happiness
It's like I touched the sun
and it didn't scorch me.
Grabed it and placed
it on my chest
and I didn't feel my heart skip.
'Cause you burn my world
with unmentionable degrees.
The sun cannot measure up
to the heat you release.
I cried all the tears
in my eyes.
Laughed all the laughs,
yet you make me happy
that I dried my tears,
sat on emptiness
until my heart
by the burning sun,
to cry out for love
till I lost my voice.
You were still
with unmentionable degrees,
feeding me your heat
till I was overwhelmed
The happiness I feel is beyond living
the way life is perceived.
It cannot be defined...
what I was
i was no fool for love
i was a tool for touch
There Stands a Tree
As far as the eye can fathom,
knolls of grass unfurl,
a rolling expanse of virgin green,
alone, save the shelter of a blue sky,
and a tree.
Like a lone sentinel,
it stands proud.
Whipped by winds,
pelted by harsh rains,
its scarred husk stands firm.
It stands in a special place,
far away from technology,
away from future shopping malls,
housing projects, super highways;
but it stands close to the heart.
It was there a picnic was shared.
Where lover’s held hands,
and lover’s kissed,
and where twin lover’s initials
are forever carved.
A Desired Moment In Time
Her eyes, shine like the sun, soft as moonbeams,
her smile far outweigh all the stars above,
surrounding her is pureness held gently,
like spun moss, silvery soft to the touch.
Not often a true beauty can be found,
she is wildflowers, a spring lake pure,
surrounded by heaven and earth, calming,
to write of such as this, would fill pages.
This is music without sound or movement,
this is the dance longed for generations,
a melody never-ending such love.
She brings the goodness of spirit to task.
And yet, she does not know that I listen.
It matters not; this pleasure, I hold true.
Trust is one of the greatest things you can give, but one of the most taken for granted gifts.
Las vegas does not exist
in hypotheticals, you wake up,
in the hotel, above the casino,
like some Elvis, like Sinatra,
beneath you, in the lower floors, people gamble, drink,
cry and scream,
an extasy of tackiness,
and beside you,
wearing a matching ring,
is the hypothetical,
oh, your mouth is a parched desert,
you are desperate for a cold glass,
of clear water.
but water does not hold,
in liquid state in this environment,
unless it is mixed in,
to water down ,
in despair you turn over,
not leaving the unbridgable,
chasm that lies by the king-size.
luckily, the spiders thought hard on this, and included a mini-fridge, where a night stand should be.
inside, you find a poor substitue,
soda water, with a sharp tab to pull,
and a price tag,
attached with a hot glue gun.
you drink the carbonated atrocity,
still impaled upon the sheets,
the gold digger, your new dependent,
is encrusted with shame ,
bismirched with glitter,
smeared with cream.
you hope the cake was good,
not some vanilla cheapness.
this is not happening, you think,
this is not reality, but a dream,
a fevered expression of the everyday,
in all its shams.
the ring is perfect proof , again,
of this surreal moment.
the metal circle is inwardly serrated,
made from a rusty pipe fitting,
it bites into the flesh,
and you know if this was true,
a tetenus shot would be required.
the betrothed, the hitched, now stirrs,
a dragon of carnality,
this beast knew them all,
all who visit , in these regions,
give her same-such jewelry, as tribute,
a trilobite, a satin-covered fossil,
of parched ravines.
her language is unknown to you,
it is just an prolonged clearing of the apparatus, that said once ‘i do’.
quick, you think, hold still,
this lawfully-wed bewilderment,
has eyes, true.
but their vision,
is based on movement.
the grendel to your Beowolfe,
she knows well,
the finger-like cliffs, that.surround the unwalled honeymoon suite.
those clifs now stretch long sharp fingers of shadow,
upon the desert sands,
as the sun makes,
its merciless rising,
casting all beneath,
with radiating pain.
you spot a hidden pathway,
spiraling down the bed,
disappearing in the jagged rocks.
but your escape is not to be,
the posseser of the ring,
spots you at last,
flashing burning eyes.
opening the jaws saliva drips,
along with plastic 5$ chips,
that were uncashed.
you now remember,
the drunken pick-up,
the placing of said chips,
in the unfamiliar curvature.
and you then know,
what hopelessness is.
cause Las Vegas does not exist.
it is, but it isn't.
just like this newly-pronounced contract.