poetry – Page 37 – Poétique

Drubbing

Most people don’t understand my intensity
To be a fly on the wall where two people
Talk about you privately so you can
Discover your own truth
Away from the things that they
Are unwilling to say to your face
To protect your feelings
Or keep you from benefiting
From yourself; tell me

The message today is don’t give up
Choked up by the strains
It’s harder in your brain than it is in real life
Drubbing along without awareness
For the future blunders
Because how can we know
And you wake up and there’s
Another smack down
And what seems insurmountable
Is the next thing that you accomplish
That’s the turnaround

Even people that don’t move out of place
Can find tragedy knocking
On their doors blind or otherwise
Inhibited in some way

Poor underbrush burning
Like a campfire in the spring
Throw some self resentment
Onto the flames and turn the volume up
Perhaps there is a way to figure
It all out before the final clock ticks

Verdant green branches
Holding out for the lesser things
Are also supporting the cryptic rhapsody’s
That tug away at our heartstrings
And beg forgiveness for simply being

I can’t remember exactly what she said
Only that there’s more to life than this!

Aftertaste

The difference is you want to kiss
That feeling of wanting this
Arousal and desires being met
Maybe something you would grasp
Onto and hold for only a minute
Like a stolen moment but the energy
Is what you feel internally
The decent into a smell
An aroma that fills the well of your soul
Knit to the fabric of the other person
As skin to skin draws you in
Hands holding fingers running through
Pulling slightly at the back of your neck
Into a tension that is right and the heat
Like the wet is exciting
It didn’t get here by any plan
Somehow arriving in the heart
In the fire of your lowest parts
Or the salt of this neck and sweat
And the light is cast down through a window
In the street where you found
A quiet second away from
Everything where no one was watching
And the taste of the inside of things
A swarming of tongues
The sensation is hard to explain
Perhaps never to return again
Except for in some fantasy in
Your mind that will live with you
For all time and the recall
Of this flavor that we somehow
Managed to create together
That we can always count on
To remember even if we
Never touch it again

Money$ick

She made herself sick
Thinking about it
“Get me a towel,” she said.
She was handing out money
But having trouble recovering it
Her honesty was in her tears
And her hesitation
Mostly she just needed a friend
She was wearing glasses that
Had dragons on them poking out
Her house was big but
She was missing some things
No doubt she was an
Imposter to herself
A syndromatic cast about

It’s sad to be buying your friends
And at what cost
To be honest is the waver
When she crawled to me on the floor
To show me that she was wrong
Also that she didn’t mean to be
I knew she was sincere

I was ready to make deposits
Into those accounts for her
But she stopped me which
Made the whole thing believable
And although the signatures
Were legitimate it still appeared
To me that something was
Totally off

I wanted to help her out
In every way that I could
Still to hesitate was showing
Mischief on the horizon
Like a naughty comet
Shooting off to burn through
The skyline of affairs
What would be the consequences
Later to beware of

Losing balance comes with age
So did appreciation for the
Capability to make decisions
Even when the bitter winds
Ripped through your warmest garments
Felt like we were trespassing
In some forbidden land

The best move at this point
Was to draw her a bath
She would come around when
The tide turned and those
Questionable deposits could be
Another conversation burned
Into a different hour
An easier day

If time allows

Choice

Grab a random hat
On your way out the door
Can we be happy in the momentary
Bliss of anythingness

Untreasured acceptance of
Being someone’s number one
Proud to be there for them
And one day wake up startlingly
To their absence without any
Why for explanation; gone

Choices were made for you
Who we become is exactly that
Even before we are exiting the womb
Of transitive existence
Thoughts on who you are to become
What great things you will do
Born into the disability
To disappoint the expectations
Of the choices designed for you

As he contemplated the coldness
Of it all there was more than
An empty reminder beating
At the core of his agenda

This is your opportunity to jump
This is how you choose
Not for someone else
But for you

A tale told of folks long ago
Saying,
‘You can choose the life you want.’
In many ways we do
And in many ways he did
Of the available options
To his character

Where was the warning?
That there will be many opposing forces
When will the playbook arrive
Condoning the unrelenting
Unrequested actions happening
Upon us as we eschew them into
Gifts for our benefit
Twisting scripts

One mentor said,
‘You will have everything you need,
to get through the life you will lead.’
And believing he was capable
He made the choice to believe

Another guide said,
‘It’s going to be really good.’
And in his head that was enough
To look forward to
To get him out of bed

Again choices would be made
And how frigid could we all stand it
How many nicks at our chins
Could we take
How many knocks at the door
Till we break
How many smiles would be left
For us to fake

Is there a number for that?

As the light dressed the day
And the night went to sleep
He stood up from his slumber
Of counting tie dyed sheep
In the movie theater of his mind
And chose to breathe again
Another day involuntarily

Contemplating the fantasy
Of the life he’d one day leave
To begin the choice of such a life
He’d yet conceived

Targeteer

Itty bitty moments for breathing
I reject my skin to be one of those
The terror of being hurt again
Was the beginning of the end
For caring to expose the epidermis
To the hateful words that were
Buried there from before by
Loved ones who only apologized
Afterwords never thinking
Their mouths turned into
Blood red volcanoes
What was he trying so hard to
Shut up for being outspoken
Like a broken cello
He was just writing down what
His eyes told him to
After that he couldn’t stop

It’s as if every gun on the planet was pointing
At him while in the barracks asking the Gods
To protect his spirit from it
Crass bureaucracy of red lines
Inspections and duties
« I never volunteered for this
And they keep giving me more shit! » he said.

Learning how to keep
Away from it personally
Being berated by the rules
Constantly thrusted
Ridiculously exhausting
Uncontrollably annoying city!

You can hear the echoes
Of laughter in the back seat
Almost as cruel as the telekinetic
Dreams that pretended to show up
Proclaiming that someone really cares
When they’re only a phone call away
But they’re manifesting cheap talk instead

It’s tragic to say but true
With all of it coming down
Like cats and dogs from the sky. Ouch!
It doesn’t mean that you’re going to die
So there’s that.

Jaguar spirit jumps out of the way

Bras De Rouges

Having to balance so many
Obligations in the brain
Takes a toll on the gut
Attempting to sustain
Astral projection strains

She looked like a goose
Standing there in her boots
They matched the feathers of her coat
And the wind was blowing
Her hair around as the line
Continued to grow
For whatever she was waiting for

Bank traffic and compassion
For inanimate things that no one
Has feelings for that’s me
Branches turning red after
All the leaves fall off
Persistently

Now it was all about patience
Enjoying the way the light
Travelled through the back window
How the cat was engaging
Speeding quickly past your feet
Loud noises that will be missed
When the house is empty
But peaceful and still

Purging everything could be the move
It was hard to hold onto everyone
Especially in a town for being so sensitive
He might have lost a bit of it and
Broke through onto the other side
Equilibrium was a gift and a curse
Standards are so individual
A loss for context is the culprit
Return to what you know
That’s the reality

Aspire to create a new hardihood
Nothing is fixed
It just feels that way

Flan

What you have to offer
Is really special
Like you, sometimes also
Brutally unaware
O how we are blatantly if the
Effect on others is
As impactful as what
An ornery child would do/be
Retaliate if their candy had been
Ripped away
Hello good-bye too soon

Shock to the system
Hits the shoulders and the chest
Then down to the knees and toes
Rug burn on the face
Instantly an immeasurable wave
Bodywork to jerk you in a state
Of whiplash left with your
Recuperating loneliness
When all he wanted was
To connect

The sound of seagulls traveling
With ears both on the beach
Now in the streets
Two very different locations
Incomparable temperatures
Similar sensations
Opposite situations
Shadows cast higher
Even at fifty-four people were
Resiliently skipping along
Capable of being childlike
That’s a wake up call
Another jolt to the system

Not at crying status yet
Parked but still running
Icy the cold had almost frozen
His right hand so the tears
Wouldn’t have been wipeable
Most likely they would freeze
On their way down his cheeks
But still not forlorn enough
To feel completely empty
Even though he had picked himself
Up off the floor for saying
Too much once on the farm
Isolation could prevent physical pain

Not having a consistent peace
Seeking comfort in the arms
Of second and third worlds
Made up families where his
Wasn’t always available
Typically running from the
Argumentative states of being

No one knew where the marks
Came from thankfully
The flan still came out pretty good
Attending school the next day
That was his assignment
It was comforting to know that
Some things were still passing

Metacall

Miserly tactics
Listening to the wind
Orange helicopters floating
In the sky like fried chicken
Two old friends on the line
Talking about how I had
Two sisters now
An old man gets into a car
That he thinks is his
And I can’t place the face of
Previous neighbors that I haven’t
Seen in a long while but
They both know me
I touched her grandchild’s
Beautiful curly hair
Mixed baby I didn’t ask
She was in a shopping cart
But I knew it was ok to
She pulled away
I found her grandma outside
Once again happy to say
Many returns of the day
Psychologically mostly spent
But before I left still not ready
To say everything was okay
And felt pushed back even by the
Forgiveness that was waiting for me
Ah, well that’s how it goes
Things get canceled
Changed and rearranged
Getting comfortable with the inevitable
Was never really his forte
I would pull myself away to help
This lost soul find his car
Rather than stand around to
Finish a conversation that was
Intended to make me feel better
We could always come back to that
Or would we in the end?
Complaisant isn’t it
I never entered the conversation
Static fuzz is all it was
Radio silence

Oats

Why is your compass spinning
Slowly pointed backwards
When I wish your arrow was
Pointed at me

We have very similar in person
Communication styles
But our texting styles are
Completely different
I am learning how to
Meet you there

Scintilla or so
A long time ago
I used to do that
Because she used to help me
I don’t know if she ever wanted to
But she did it

Zip your lip
Speak from the heart
Say it with your eyes
Free from demise
Or me; More of what you
Might regret

Something about sewing
Maybe we could thread them?

The stress was inevitable
As was the opalesque sky
On frosty mornings in particular
Tiny planes look like traveling stars
Maybe there was a reason to
Shave the back of your neck
To commiserate with the moon

The silhouettes of the leafless trees
Abandoned his loneliness for
Singular mornings although
Artistry to soul excavation
Was more fruitful
So too were implications
Of hearthstone memories

Oatmeal and laughter crowded out
Yelling and screaming which
Inadvertently had been the reason
For keeping a safe distance
From her whip like tongue

If it weren’t for all the lashings
We might still be sharing porridge
On cold mornings like this one

Time is funny

Bassinet

Never forget what it took you
To get where you are today
He heard the crow say

Why did it feel like stealing moments?
Two thoughts in a basket
Exemplified as two
Newborn babies that weren’t
Predicted to make it
He rose in the morning to find
That there was still life in them yet

As he warmed them up
Bringing each of them back to life
He saw the differences in both eyes brighter
He envisioned a life for each thought

There were of course plots and
Many ploys on the outside to
Destroy their potentials but still
He managed to give them hope

Breathing it in
Warming them up

Even as winter settled in
And death dreamed curiously
Of taking yet another he continued
To feed and nurture his thoughts
Both again now like small
Children that would one day
Need bank accounts and
Someone to look after them

All of this moving along
Like smoke drifting in the air
From warm chimneys on cold
Mornings cheating the end
It was a kind of burglary
To grab on to something
That needed to be wanted
If it were to continue to exist

And if he did it without any hesitation
No opposition could refrain
Any one ability to embrace
Even thoughts and moments
That felt like they belonged
With and to no one

A robbery for the unwanted
Or brief considerations no one
Would remember to appreciate
Were safe to survive
Like an infant in his arms

Safe in the shelter of his keep