Oh. No.

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Once

but not for the first time

because

it happens more often then you would think

someone committed suicide

in the cemetery where I worked.

 

I think that when that happens

it is so  loud

it wakes the dead

 

and when the dead open their eyes and  realize what has happened

I think

it makes them sad.

amm

So Much For That

Photo A.M. Moscoso

Balance.

 

We need balance

in what we eat

what we wear

what we read

and how we conduct ourselves

in a Universe that demands

for our survival.

Balance.

 

Why is it then

that the ground under my feet

and the thoughts in my head

careen from one place to another

and never make sense.

 

Where

are

you

Balance?

 

Why do you hate me so, avoid me at every turn, never answer my call

will we ever be friends?

Will I ever know you

Balance?

 

RDP Tuesday: balance

My Endearing Bones

A lover’s quarrel is happening under my skin

my bones are fighting with each other again.

They grind and grate they get on each other’s nerves

they yell obscenities  at my muscles when they ask, ” Hey dudes seriously,  what’s up?”

 

“You aren’t working  with us, you aren’t working for her

all you do is snap, crackle and pop like a bowl of kid’s cereal.”

 

My bones won’t justify that with a reply

they’re caught in their own world

they don’t care what anyone says.

 

They’ll stay together forever

they don’t really know why

even though

it’s a grind, it ‘s a pain

being locked together

like this

under my skin.

 

 

RDP Tuesday: crepitus

Here Are My Tygres

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Darkness

despair

ruins of buildings, lives and the faces of people I knew

or thought I knew

visit me when I sleep.

 

These phantoms  drive the nightmares

that visit me, that haunt me, that call  the endless twilight in my head home

Dead images, abandoned words, forgotten promises and curses  brought to life again now live in the daylight

in each word I carve on stone, in paper on bone.

 

Daily Addictions Prompt: Motor

Jovana

 

Her dreams of Olympus

of dwelling among the Gods and Goddesses

ended on a road

where she watches the world race by

from her window

and the indifferent world sounds like a pride of  lions hungrily, passionately

taking down it’s prey.

 

She keeps her dreams of Olympus

alive

inked in a books with a shaky hand

that

she leaves beside

her

many half drunk  glasses of  wine and pictures  of a life

greedily, licentiously,  devoured

by

a once corpulent

now starving

Jovana.

 

RDP Thursday – CORPULENT