RDP Wednesday – FRIGID
to heat to the cold to darkness to the light
a frozen heart wrapped in ice
colder inside then out
a beast best left
to it’s solitary and dreamless sleep.
Ragtag Daily Prompt Thursday – A Flower Cried
Over the hill
from where I live
is a garden
where nothing grows, except regret.
In the garden
over the hill
from where I live
there are no more second chances
there are no more disappointing kisses ,
no more hellos,
no tortured goodbyes
no one here will ever miss bus, or train or lose money or catch a cold.
In the garden
over the hill from where I live
the stone angels look like they’re crying ,
but they have never shed a tear
the flowers, cut down in their prime, when they are at their brightest
weep and fade when it’s their time to go
like all of us do
on the other side of the hill
from the garden
where nothing grows.
On the Givers and Takers and doormats of the world:
Lost in thought
buried in thought
so many idea and words and pictures
an endless chain of might have beens
tied around my neck
dropped over my head
by hands who were glad I was there
and thankful that I was such
an understanding friend
right up to the end.
Tongues in torment
brain cells starving in darkness
and necks bent in permanent subjugation to the Gods who dwell in the hills of Bellevue and are housed in finery by Lake Union.
The human body
a vessel for technology to travel by
an over designed mode of transportation for a bit of light and sound trapped in plastic.
206 bones, six liters of blood, six million years of evolution
all promised to next years model
a phone in a case bedazzled and cared for
slimmer, faster and more desirable
then we will ever be
to each other.
When I ride the bus
or I am out walking my dog
when I’m on the train
and going no where
in particular at all
I like to watch people
I like to take their faces into my head
inch by inch
I can take my time
because they are on their phones
trapped in a screen
unable to look up and away
I can steal their expressions, collect their hands, shoulders, their eyes
put them in my memory to be devoured
at a later time
a story or a poem .
When I am out
loose and invisible in a sleeping world
I feel like a gargoyle
on a wall.
Here I am.
Shall we begin….
Once upon a time.
but not for the first time
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
it makes them sad.
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.
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.
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
RDP Tuesday: balance
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
it’s a grind, it ‘s a pain
being locked together
under my skin.
RDP Tuesday: crepitus
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