maturity

as two loves will tear their future selves
and search for scraps of self-referential notes
on happiness and loneliness conflated in dusty backroom bookshelves

in three years across a citrus
morning landscape bounty
tumbles over another horizon's searing glow,
and three years see another version self in its day-to-day come-and-go.

pounding sidewalk cracks with wooden soles of tailored shoes,
ten years will see us without a care for
all the world of threes and twos.

orange emblem

tonight i should think there is nothing nicer than perfectly
blue, blue skies to look upon when lying down
in war-torn fields, apocalypse surround a
rainy day without a cloud,
awash the blood-soaked battleground
of charred battalion and blackened banners
at heads of slaves and feet of masters;
as ashy gust kicks up a dust storm blow through
empty schools and ruined storefronts.

and all the while i can just but breathe my only breaths of air
and let me red grass whip itself against in vain attempt to rouse me from the
whisper thoughts that draw me off
to vanish in the wind!

aren't we all so

much obliged.

reside

whimsy thoughts are spread across
a quiet harlot's lot; her blanket frayed,
its tassel braids, and staining dots a paisley pattern.

she calms her nerves with sup of tea
and clears her throat and mutters pleas
to god and worldly ruler as would a dog on winter's frigid night.
the stars, blinking, stare to respond with vague repose and background noise.
and cloud slinks away, uncovering the glowing scythe of a shrugging moon-like apparition.

my god my god
she said to me,
my life without a joy or hope
of coming days that bring to cope
with ways to find my truest self
is gone from me and nothing else;
i wish to live as they once did!
i'd like to fly and deep-sea dive as
birds and dolphins, breathe and cry
with truest friends, taste and hear the sweetest
fruit of mankind's song, in tandem anthem our earthly flow!

but No!
she shakes her head in violent throes
and pounds the ground with
guttural groans; she tears her hair, the grass, and earth
and throws her shoes, her jewels, her clothes
to waft away in shifting winds,
to separate
into everything;

the winds, they swift!
her frenzied arms in tandem dance with
creaking branches, the groaning lifts into the whipping
whispers of the air, and chimes of grass split
the searing rush of blanket noise that
emanates from every single place and where;

Oh my god! she shouts,
now with her bare, blunted body being blasted
by rain,
her blackened hair tangling in the madness
of the wind,
Where am I to find the unsold souls and empty miles,
to simply live and raise a child;
to love in full! for living free!
she cowers and shies, in shame perhaps,
she saves her face from a reply
that may imply some judgment of mine.


but I can but
but only say, that
if you fear for your sanity by hatred of your very selves,
then you must destroy your sense of individuality.
all will be well once you integrate
into that which it saves you, and earns your hate.

optimism

there is dirt
between every crack and crevice,
dust kicked up from flying gusts
when busy flies the metal bus by,
loud and upset downcast its circular metal constraints,
it crawls to stop with a huff and puff and swish!
the sliding doors in birth to shuffle steps