Category: Poetry

Sorting, planning & making piles.
Shaking with worry all the while.

Some dead-air days will shortly come.
Without wi-fi or plumbing plumbed.

Planned off-grid time looms pendulous.
During which, we’ll bend fate to us.

Off & online within three days.
One of Jesus’s zombie plays.

No interruptions to broadcasts.
Moving’s less than my backlog lasts.

The past is merely wool; used to burnish…
For persons, themselves, to substance furnish.

To shine bright bold brass against recesses.
The surface dance; twixt dives & abscesses.

What sticks when the eyes flash over sight’s host?
It’s a balance held by what lingers most.

Working to understand the past is sage.
Unexamined trauma exacts a wage.

All my life one hand clutched cloth & polish…
To bring out the shine of being demolished.

Life inside a constant imaginary cloud.
From which, each day, I lasso inspiration down.

The temptation is there to collect with a net.
But, random rope wrangles with destiny; I’d bet.

And, what a great way to begin a piece of work.
Inspired freeform, no prompt; with bottled lightning perks.

I oft wake up to mystery verse scribed in the night.
I hope that I wrote them & not a changeling fright.

Wherever it comes from, I’m nothing but grateful.
Without words & art…my expression’s not tasteful. 

No one likes upsetting the ones they love.
Sorry’s the only fix most can think of.

Yet, there is a better thing we can do.
Instead of saying “sorry”, self-review.

Interrogate regret & find the fix…
Next time the action itself can be nixed.

“Sorry” on a loop will grow ill & wilt.
A threadbare apology drowns in guilt.

So, try not to think “sorry means resolve”.
Plan what to do next time; plan to evolve.

I go weeks at a time without spending a dime.
I am busy at home when the spending is prime.

I laugh remembering calls once cost a quarter.
Cash was paper & coin in banks’ brick & mortar.

An adaptable human can tolerate change.
Though, now, it comes in a wider spectrum of range.

See there’s Change in Life & change in your pocket.
Both can absurdly switch your course like a rocket.

So maybe small & lean living is the wiser tack.
Agility is ideal when under attack.

Oh, to be someone with a quiet mind.
Able to look fore & aft mostly blind.

I stay busy; for, I can see too much.
I see many outcomes, causes & such.

Staring thru space, for me…oft unpleasant.
So, I load up tasks that make me present.

I’ve never stared at a blank thousand yards.
When I stare, I see the possible cards.

Not gifted enough to know things exact.
The more they harry me, the more I act.

Respond or not…both are answers.
Tell the truth to avoid cancers.

I sense true facts from eyes & sound.
What you think’s hid; I see around.

Dance round facts; won’t  shift my gazes.
I’m lost & found for dodged phrases.

I do not always know for sure.
To cruise without change is no cure.

So take a beat before you lie.
Tell yourself, “He will see. So, why?”

Last but not least: do not spread blame.
Spreading your fault on others?…lame. 

Putin, Trump & Bibi sitting in a tree.
These “leaders” are K-I-L-L-I-N-G.

It’s not the citizens behind these faces.
It’s these “heads” & their cronies taking places.

They think they’re a much bigger deal than they are.
So, they’ve stretched their ambitions both near & far.

Mired by laws, courts, dissent & evolution…
Unable to sire evil’s revolution.

Things likely get worse; before they get better.
Protest if you can; if not, write a letter.

They’re tuning in to the potency of age.
Realizing their life’s epic battle wage.

They’re born to the youngest & herded along.
They’re learning, from elders, paths right & paths wrong.

They’re timid & frightened of every new step…
Not at all eager to learn study & prep.

Still, both care & patience are given for free.
Inexhaustible patient support seems key.

By the time it’s not needed, they will be grown.
Then they’ll spawn some little terrors of their own.

For:EV&B

I’d guess, in my eyes, you see a sad hurt child…
Locked up with own devices & beaten wild.

Though, that is not all there is to see in there.
That’s just the surface of an ocean of care.

A vast sea populated with monsters kind.
Misfit evolutions in a star child’s mind.

Compared with similarly unlucky shoes;
I’d defy odds, for, my soul I did not lose.

I hope you find your way inside here some day.
I’m a hell of a time; so, don’t turn away.