Poll Dance

Misguided Miley
thought she was wily
just like the big fraud she portrays
but most folk are smarter
than peacocks that barter
their essence to be the next craze.

Keepsake

A colorful cardboard picture
in a modest wooden frame
of the classic stunning sunset
at a beach without a name
is all that I could salvage
from an unforgiving flame—
the only proper symbol
the inferno didn’t claim.

It shows a tree that’s leaning
toward a distant setting sun
as though in need of comfort
from a world it sought to shun
a lonely, brooding being
that had wearily begun
to humbly reach for heaven
before the day was done.

Our purpose is unfathomed
as is much of what we see
which makes belief an exercise
in forging your own key;
I know she’s out there somewhere
with the angels being free
and hope she’s found the solace
that this image brings to me.


***Well, it's been a year since my Mother's tragic and senseless death. I don't know why it happened and am still not over it, but have been slapped in the face with reality enough to know when it's time to just accept and move on (which is most of the time).

I've thought about everything, especially why I write, and have come to realize part of it was a secret inner dream that I could write something good enough to snap Mom out of her addictive spiral into oblivion, or maybe score big and have enough to send her to Betty Ford or someplace where she could truly heal. She loved books and always had her nose buried in one.

Alas, such just wasn't meant to be, and now it is quite pointless to dream thusly. Where ever you are, I love you Mom, RIP. ***

Clinical

He stares at the slide
where cultures have grown
they struggled, then died
while he sat alone

observing their lot
and how they evolved—
he’ll plaintively jot
but won’t get involved.

Bereavement

A year is just a sum
a fear we learn to face
a drear continuum
a mere expanse of space
austere as any come
that veer away from grace
a period so glum
no teardrop will erase.

Pegged

A square by any other name
is still condemned to be a frame
for rules that constitute the norm
including how to swallow shame
and forcibly conform.

Twisted

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

a world where any creature comfort can be bought
though all I see smeared cross the road
are hapless creatures caught
beneath the spinning wheels
of a jaded juggernaut.

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

a flimsy funhouse infinitely fraught
with clattering contrivances
designed to keep one taut
in order to forget the fact
it crumbles down to naught,

Just look at what we’ve wrought…

Leave

The green recruits are weathered now
emboldened by the brawl
they weren’t informed but know somehow
tomorrow comes the fall

a brisker breeze begins to blow
as daylight slowly wanes
these telling omens tend to show
how little time remains

resplendent in their vibrant gear
they feel no fear at all
relieved to leave their torment here
tomorrow comes the fall.

Deduction

I’ll stalk the boss’s dime all day
but seldom mind my own
I guess that’s why I’m doomed to stay
forever paycheck prone.

Equidistant

The concept of infinity
is endless incongruity
inhabiting no single plane
with any uniformity,
exploring the enormity
that others shun in vain
an angle from which I can see
that nothing gets too close to me.

Rattling

Antiquity will often choose
the truth of those that didn’t lose,
the spin that vanity commands
will shift as much as falling sands,
but bones beneath uncharted tracts
can ferret out forsaken facts.

Branded

intelligent
People
Obviously
Distracted
senseless

Flagellation

Whenever war is meant to be
I find the foe is usually me—
there is no banner white enough
to soothe this never ending scuff.

Dawn

In the stillness of the morn
I can feel my faith reborn
protecting me from those that prey
upon my mind with scorn.

At the onset of the day
the darkness goes away
revealing crystal cobalt skies
devoid of any gray.

As the sun begins to rise
illumination helps my eyes
to recognize when truth is shorn
by endless compromise.

I choose to live not mourn
no longer am I torn
apart by doubts that fade within
the stillness of the morn.

Bewildered

Hi all, well it's been a while since I've shared one of my personal asides. Life has been terribly hectic as usual but I also just haven't had the drive to create lately. I was greeted with an unexpected email this morning which really made me smile though, and hope to get this blog rolling with more regular posting again. I must thank Ms. Amber Johnson for including my lowly blog in a list of 100 Great Web Sites for Poetry Lovers. Who knew?