With hungry eyes she stared at the sky
Wishes for life birthing water
So desperately needed.
Finicky is this substance’s temperament
Steam given off can scald
Or cubes can burn.
A great transporter of minerals
Otherwise trapped in one location
Substances once settled becomes food
Both a bringer of life and a taker
As large quantities relocate materials;
As sinks bring life to deserts
Least we not forget
The master craftsman
Who shaped these landscapes around us.
Scanning information to be stored
In a file titled Finals
Empty and solitary for now
Soon to be filled, then discarded.
Memory space is limited
So reminders are required
Or the Recycle Bin
Looks certain.
She was one who never looked
To see the place where she stood
Feel the breeze caress her skin
Or hear the gears of life spinning.
She was one who always saw
But never remembered
The hoops she had traversed.
She was one who traveled
Distances only imagined
By those with no belief in tales.
She was one who journeyed
Lost amongst the throngs
Numb to halting experiences
Others find disabling.
Sun lit silver
Growing brighter
Under a watchful eye
Integral to us all.
Little dragon,
hanging back, hissing, distrusting
Little dragon,
keep this king of gods company
Little dragon,
that was then and this is now:
Sentinel
standing guard, hunting unwanted guests
Sentinel
slacking off, unwilling to pass up a hello
Golden eyes
always observing
Sleep away the hours
under a good shade.
Just hitting the spot
Music,
My rocket to the moon
My crash back to reality.
Momentary relief can’t last long
2, 3, 5, 7, 10 minute drugs
Shooting up
Straight for command center.
Landscapes of hills and valleys
Far away memories
Meant to be left in the attic
In the past
Falling fast
Falling hard
For a splat on the pavement
Where life continues to roll
At speeds that leave rims spinning
Images burned into my mind
As I’m left
Spitting dirt out of my mouth
Wiping eyes clean of debris.
Jumper cables
Over my shoulder
Little buds
Waiting to jumpstart
My car.
Positive, left
Negative, right.
After inserting:
Start shuffling songs,
Or play playlists in order
Then, I sit back, relax
And let the drugs
Inject themselves
As I aim for the stars.
Sticky ball,
roll up all these weeds.
Sticky ball,
chow down on this mess.
Leave no nuisance plant
to mature.
Leave no square foot
unexplored.
My dear ruminant chewing
your cud
Sleep away the day after
work is done.
Clinging to emotions
Chained to my heart
Unwilling to let go
Even though I despair.
Look at that pair,
Those cardinals just outside
Watch them search
Amongst the leaves.
Irritation at every object;
Am I just a ticking time bomb
Ready to explode randomly
Without a reason?
Don’t trust facial expressions
Which lie to true emotions.
Even those closest to me
Haven’t learned that yet.
Pieces of paper used to direct the desperate
Not fooled by pretty words, aware of true intentions:
Puppeteer and marionette relationship
With liquor and powder to stupor the mind,
While vampires suck artists dry
And steal before their eyes.
If latent talent is recognized
Refusal will be the path I take.
Mass production is not art
Mass production leads to mindless followers
Unable to think on their own;
I’m not willing to participate in
Mind numbing sameness–
Much rather stand alone
Then add one more product
Just like the rest on the airwaves
And in aisles found in every super store.
Listening to rhythms only these ears can hear
Feeling straining fibers within my arch
Pop goes my wrist at the slightest lift
My leaning tower aches for some relief.
Do I accept this form,
This dysfunctional existence?
Can I see who I am right now
As the night throws down it’s darkened blanket?
Losing myself in visual historical fiction and
Forgetting this exoskeleton I can’t shed
With every sensation, shouldn’t I rejoice
For here I am, alive!
(Not everyone can proudly say that!)
Running away from what can’t be expelled
Is only resistance to facing a reality
Inescapable, except in death;
An option discarded as soon as concepted, so
There’s no getting away from me.
I might as well face myself head on
Then hide, apart from who I am,
As living while hiding, just isn’t my style.
