Tag Archives: discontent

Itchy Heart

venom flying past my window
breeze keeping it aloft
seeking sunlight & warmth
broader view from inside
but
YOUR religion, MY god
MY party, YOUR politics
PC, not PC, name calling
what about respect?
what about kindness?
what about leadership?
fool hardy notion
once things were different
were they?
more than once we were a nation
were we?
now little empires
tiny, small
empires
minds
Itchy Heart

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Pleonastic Mortal

 feeling abandoned & forgotten
we search & seek
 then wish & hope
to be more than an optional accessory
 becoming an eternal phoenix


Silk Thread

how cliche to be on a thin line

but aren’t we all?

spin, bounce, weave, unravel

entangled, forlorn

he knew that he could not fly

spinning lifeline 

hoping for a complete end

bouncing lifeline

the struggle just multiplied

weaving lifeline

thwarted death choices

unraveling lifeline

band of struggling youth

entangled lifeline

lonely in a crowded room

forlorn lifeline

welcome to the rest of the story

life on a line

 

 

 


kaleidoscope (revisited)

Yesterday I fractured

when a stranger looked right at me

not through me

as those who know me sometimes do

it felt odd to exist for a person

that has no history of me

I split into pieces in my effort to hide

avoiding ownership of fragments

but somehow he found me

now it is difficult not to be honest

these pieces look pretty in the light

but shattered remnants cannot walk through the dark


Family Values

lying in wait was more tolerable than lying in worry

watching for her to peer around the corner

sprinkling sparkling remnants to be crafted into

something, anything

pretending that words could matter on a screen to

someone, anyone

but the visits became more sparse

returning me to words that drift on air from

one ear, another ear

leaving me wondering if ownership exists

when attitudes are hurled like a storm

nobody recording the cold temperature of rejections

or the burn of a verbal punch landed on another

denial the likely outcome of useless confrontation

and the mantra, buzzing in my head

“what other people think of me is none of my business”

so less so should their shenanigans towards one another be mine

or is that true

do you ever stop mothering, do they cease to be your child

I am old enough to know that ridicule is a beast

in the pocket of the unleasher

how do I convey that to a young man

that is trying to trust, trying to love

in a world where even those closest to you

disappoint


Mourning Dove

hear the cry in early rays

rising with the sun

searching landscape, better days

before to depths, a plunge

where is the coo, call of young

waiting eagerly to feed

haunting call of backward glance

a lonely heart does bleed


Freedom Dance

“And those who were seen dancing were thought to be insane by those who could not hear the music.” – Friedrich Nietzsche

 

the purveyors of insanity that fill our streets

avoid blackened hearts, gone dark with greed

swing tree to tree with earthy sweet melody

grounded only by childlike belief in possibilities

 

the burden of sanity fills homes, cubicles, minds

fearing footloose steps found in freedom’s dance

trudging daily towards paycheck studded yokes

concrete foundations sinking deeper in mortality

 

the poverty of a soul can be remedied by rhythm

hips caught in the drumbeat of seeming madness

thoughts abandoned in favor of harmonious song

embracing chaos while dancing within the silence