RDP Tuesday: SCRAP
Bits and pieces from my life
before it was mine to live
hanging from a branch on a dying tree
spit here the commercial says
you can watch it come back to life and live!
I guess you could say I’m haunted by the past
by those names and dates and faces
but to be fair I have become aware
I haunted Percival’s future.
The roaring in her ears finally stopped
she could hear music, her favorite
she heard Mozart.
The constant jostling and pulling and stretching stopped too
she didn’t have to run she could rest right where she was
at last she could take a deep breath and savor it.
Now she could smell the flowers, she could close her eyes
she could smile
she was and will always be
The Beautiful Cadaver.
RDP Monday: SERENE
RDP Wednesday – FEAR
Fear is an unlocked door, it’s hinges rusted fast with age.
Fear is a blind window, a cold kitchen, a dusty hallway
a carpet worn to dust, furniture green with mold
Fear is living forever in the world outside
because no one knows
you have died.
9 People Who Were Found Dead…Years After Their Deaths
Me and my dog, Hamish Macbeth, are going to Mars.
It might not be exactly the way I intended to reach the Red Planet, but what the hey.
Later days Earthlings!
RDP Tuesday: intent.
RDP Monday: FUSTY
over used promises
the same old tales of passion
repeated mindlessly in a haze of cigarette smoke.
Over played love songs
from the 60’s
they use them to sell cars and yogurt now.
Fusty valentine sentiments
printed on faded paper and rotting under the refrigerator
the cemetery of lost memories.
RDP SATURDAY: COMMENCE
I have been riding since the Spring
into the Summer
my black heart stilled in grief.
When will I reach
the cruel lover
who has left me behind?
Will he remember me?
Be ready for me
when I find him
RDP Friday: TRANSITION
From an embrace to a kiss
to muscle and bone
to a beating heart to fingers to a spinal column
a Galaxy of promise waiting to be born.
To a student, to a traveler to defeat and despair
to the good days when the air smells good
and my face hurts from laughing.
From heartbeat to pulse
am I just a collection of moments wrapped in skin?
From sleeping to dreaming to waking
my clock with broken hands tries to keep time
and it will, like it’s supposed to