I find myself skirting tangent lines
Stasis has tethered my creative spark
Words have less meaning, evoke less emotion
The heart being a weathered ark

Within cascades of pain, my muse
I borrow words for torrid use
Behind despair’s dark waterfall
Her words and I become recluse

In the hiding and the pain
I find that I can write again
Ever flowing through my being
Ever hearing, ever seeing

I saw you again
In my peripheral,
Your shadow reminded me-
I’m such a fool.
I heard you again,
In the walls,
Your whisper reminded me-
You took it all.
I smelt you again
In my sheets,
Your absence reminded me-
I won’t sleep.
I can taste you again,
On my skin,
Your comfort reminded me-
Lovers patience thins.
I felt you again
In my gut,
Your punches reminded me-
It’ll never be enough.

Separated by years,
But also by fears.
By changing attitudes,
This generational divide,
Divided by a techno cyanide.

Like a zombie curse
Or something worse.
Glued to their phones,
Decaying cells in their mind ,
More and more become unkind.

Like sluggish snails,
Their memory fails.
Their luddite ways,
Society's loss they mourn,
In this techno killing scorn.

Keep talking,
Telling me
What I can do.

Don’t mistake
My silence
For fear.

I don’t need a fight;
I take side streets
So I can make you trip
On your own shoelaces.

Failure, you say?
Thank you for the fuel,
My tank was empty.

I treat odds
Like a midnight snack,
So keep serving
Them freely.

Surrender, you demand?
You would have a better
Chance waking up
The sun
In the middle of the night.

Today I rose with thoughts of above
Remembering the person I really love

Today my thoughts move back in time
Remembering my Mom so true and fine

I wish she were here so I could say
I’m sorry rather than just think and pray

I now can clearly recount my early days
And how I should have had more praise

As a parent I can now see my family grow
And understand how my love should flow

My awakened thoughts cause me to care
To remember how I should be more fair

I have no cure, no antidote
Only words that
Jump from the page
And hold you till
Every tear is dried

There’s a darkness
That grabbed hold of you
take my flashlight
To show you that
You are not alone

I wish my pen could
Sedate the pain
That calls your heart
It’s new obsession

To anyone wrestling demons
I salute you for the battles
That go unnoticed

Soldiers with no weapons
Just a will to carry on
Even if they feel
They have reached the ledge

We gazed at the psychedelic sun
blazing an undefined path on melting asphalt
the soles of our naked feet could not feel
as our pinwheel hillsides had become barren
except for the fireworks of memories
or the beauty of our youth.

Mummified angels with blood stained wings
we could not see what was real.

Your living turned dragon black
as you shared the poison that became our good-byes.
You could only hear,
and not speak back to the love
that had followed you all along.

No matter Tuesday, November 5, 2024
still one hundred and eight days away,
(thank you Julian Date Calendar -
FOR LEAP YEARS ONLY),
I believe a foregone conclusion
that Donald Trump will win
based on the pathetic debate performance
between Joseph Robinette Biden Junior,
and Donald John Trump
in tandem with the stellar performance
of the latter at the Republican National Convention,
which appeared to surpass great expectations,
a gut reaction, cuz I could not stomach watching

Out of the ashes was born my belief,
grown in the grave of the garden of grief.
Watered in winter of world-weary woe,
grace of the goddess had caused it to grow.

Grace of the goddess, who loved me for free,
soothed me, so sweetly, by the steely blue sea.
Wooed me and won me, renewed me, reformed,
slaughtered my sorrow, and faith in me formed.

On parched paper, her ardent pen gave birth
to poetry so intently composed,
A rainbow bridging this desolate earth
with a message, passionate yet reposed.

She penned it to tremble the mountain snow,
set free and embrace every bygone soul,
let peace enlighten in its afterglow,
offer hope with its words, love to console.

But somehow her temperament became shy,
words seemed unworthy, her confidence gone.
Her poem lost verve, its meaning, its why
and hid itself neatly away, withdrawn.