So I walked into my local supermarket
to buy my weekly shipment of Kit Kat bars,
Cinnamon Toast Crunch,
and Ovaltine powder mix.
As I shake off the snow on my fake Timberland boots,
coated in frozen animation,
thaws into warmth’s teardrops from
the supermarket’s 75 degree vents.
This moist sense of happiness was quickly interrupted
when I heard Wilson Phillips, “Hold On”
over the PA system.
Thankfully, the cutlery isle was just to my left.
So, now, I had plans!
But, before I could commit felony’s song,
I saw her.
A Portuguese goddess
with a strut that can ruin a man’s dignity.
She had Autobahn curves,
dark brown curls of hair & visuals,
and thick flesh meat that even Vegans would envy.
Her face lacked Maybelline coated misapprehension.
Cause I never did like clowns.
After staring longingly at her,
like a crack head with impulsive eyes upon a broken/unlabeled bag of baby powder,
she breezed past my stifled posture and clocked in to work.
She didn’t even get a chance to smell my $500 cologne called “Piece of Me”.
So with new-found urges to grab all my groceries,
like a burglar who really has to pee,
I rush to express checkout.
There she is.
Her register beeps in coupon lady’s rhapsody,
while my register needs a cleanup on Isle 9.
Now it’s my turn.
With girlish inner-screams of boy-band intensity,
I say, “Hi”.
She scans my apples, while I scan her melons.
The melons that the customer ahead of me didn’t want…
…they were on sale.
As if she read my mind,
“Are you feeling warm now?”
“All I want is to be the heat in your moment”,
which I almost said.
But, “Now I am”, is uttered.
As she smiled with seductive demure,
she handed me my receipt
with her phone number on back.
As I left the market,
I began to get cold again.
These winds of change
became gusts of numbness.
I locked myself out of my heart.
I turned around to go back inside.
Only to discover,
she didn’t have the key.
© Drake J. Eszes
Vase Dream - c'est la vie
White vase with no design
Dangling there - c'est la vie
I think somewhere in Center City
Apart from everything
In an apartment rising skyward
Lingering on the edge of ledge
Standing tall atop a railing raw
Languishing over the 20th Floor
Or there about
And more - c'est la vie
The balcony did its’ best of course
Displaying the fragile curves
Morning sun light danced approval
Around bouncing beams above the surface
But nothing could stop a soft breeze from…
Poof!.....And off it went… c'est la vie
An alert French man
Pastry smile and all
With left handed nimble fingers caressing a Beaujolais 42
The other hand stretched out with stress
As if to field an errant football pass
And in that chance encounter…Catch!...
Tumbling to concrete boundaries down
Bottle released in a wincing crash
Ground favored his mortal urgency
Pottery saved - c'est la vie
French man’s head cracked
Let’s say opened
Something like an egg
A natural death ensued - c'est la vie
A passer-by seized the moment
Lifted vase and fled
Made off down and dirty
Another fate for vase awaits
In a land far away
To dream of ledges - c'est la vie
If so inclined
Or so designed
Modified on 10/21/14 for - c'est la vie - Poetry Contest
its white corlor bright
has map guild
over ride the tide
good or bad weather
will not fail
flow like a wale
BOATS ON SALE
What sustains Life like water?
What is as fresh and welcoming like the countryside?
And as sweet as a newly made confectionery
baked with honey?
I just found one
well placed in all corners of your heart.
A feeling encompassing the goodness of life.
Is it the blissful visitation
to the tenants of the deep blue sea?
Or a radiant rainbow floating in the moist skies?
Is it red roses, milk Sunflowers
and other colorful plants in pink, green and yellow?
Or the site of a happy set of little quintuplet siblings?
Is it the baby chicks peeping out from their nest
to spy on the first morning rising sun?
They all are no where
near the unbelievable goodness of your love.
You are a majestic glamor
full of gracious providence.
Not even the magneting beauty
of the Queen Cleopatra
can be compared to the pillars of your virtues
which prove to overcome time's curfew
eclipsing my heart totally
as I soak in the foam of your passions.
A natural habitat have I found
in the gardens of your affection
and a new existence
from the deep baptism of your unequaled care.
I never believed a star could be as near
but here I am; with a being
who outshines a galaxy.
My soul has lost records of its bountiful happiness
from this train of love
with the wish its rails are never ending
and its journey, everlasting.
love ewe and blue
aer rhyming words true
there is always inflection and poor attitude
limits of knowledge above snobbish refrains
trains run on time only in the movies
movies run on time only in a small town
there is very few movies shown on trains
blue can be an attitude blue can be a heart
love you can be used to start a heart apart from you
as you watch the blue southern train depart
from the blue stunted depot with the board walk floor
the little blue conductor yelling all aboard her
as the train takes the love and makes your attitude blue
soup mix tastes so wordy so blue so true and good
with a doubly heaping helping of a love ewe attitude
Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my
kitchen. Surely a symbol of my madness. I can't help, but think, if the keys were
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there
enough black keys?? Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
Wondering if I can stand another minute alone. Atop my organ, music books,
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish
and distress. Even to worrying of misspelling a word again. Pure lunacy.
Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation. Or just an early
sign of the madness to come??
I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair. My life's hopes down to 2
desires; one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld. Money is
meaningless to me.
I am well aware that death is as natural as life. And I would venture to guess
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe. But not for me.
Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.
And what a reunion it will be!! But I must continue to go on surviving as though I
cherish this long and barren life.
My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday. So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the
story one finds in a false tale. He never faltered, he never failed.
I am a Tarnished Knight
Dragons do I slay,
With my trusty sword
I hold then all at bay.
I have a trusted steed,
A Unicorn named Dream.
When we ride together
We make a mighty team.
Nary is a dragon.
That will look us in the eye.
They just turn and fly away,
As we chase them thru the sky.
For I am fearless warrior,
Will do battle anywhere.
Fight that dreaded dragon,
In your heart or in the air.
So if you have a dragon,
No matter where he be.
Maybe flying in the sky,
Or lives deep inside of thee
Call the Tarnished Knight,
And his Unicorn named Dream.
We will come and rescue you,
For we are a potent team.
A reward is not required.
Our service is for free
Just to slay your dragon
Will be our only fee.
A fire breathing dragon,
Sometimes is hard slay.
With out an open mind
He may never go away.
So take this little fairy tale,
That I did write for you.
Please let me in your heart
So I can do the things I do.
I will slay your dreaded dragon
Then you can ride upon my dream.
I promise to take you places
That few have ever seen.
So let me come inside you,
In your body and your soul.
Let me slay that dragon
That has such an evil hold.
I've had enough
Yes enough of your childish games
I've had enough
Of your lies.and disappointments
I've had enough
Of headaches,and worries
I've had enough
Of your disrespect
I've had enough
Of heartaches,and pains
I've had enough
Of wondering if and when you're coming home
I've had enough
Of planning a future that has no hope
I've had enough
Of waking up and finding myself alone
I've had enough
Of wishing you'll change for the better
I've had enough
Of talking,and you're not listening
I've had enough
Of dreaming this dream all alone
I've had enough
Of being the only one trying to make things work
I've had enough
Of treating you like a prince,king,or queen
then in return you treat me like I'm nothing
I've had enough
Of you're not taking me seriously
I've had enough
And I'm sick,and tied of all the drama
I've had enough
Of you falsely accusing me
I've had enough
And I can make it by myself
I'VE HAD ENOUGH
I'VE HAD ENOUGH!!!"
it was at my place
we sit face to face
hug and muggs
warp in arms
it was romance charms
should seen up go
we roll on the door
PASSION SEX ON THE FLOOR
In a time of past; so far away
just beyond where night meets the day
two little children were born and raised
in the deepest part of the forest, a mystery
their father never saw their innocent faces
Ancient spirits of woodland graves
they became royalty of trolls, and trees
the only two whom were human beings
they lived out life happily
some say they could even hear them
singing in perfect harmony
They ruled and were protected,
by nymphs, fairies, elves, and of creatures
of life and grave
the trees fulfilled all of their needs
The forest and it's wonder a family they became
Mother Nature in loving ways came with the birds and bees
She lifted them up hugging them, giving immortality
in a world with so much pain yet
they knew only harmony all of their days
the legend of the forest royalty they became
healing the creatures that go unseen
saying hello and goodbye for many years
the little boy and girl left beside an old oak tree one dark February
harmonic spirits they are now,
running wild and free...
About my children who are passed
Deep in the dungeon in the back left corner
Was a mere shell of what was once a man.
He was shackled to the wall of his own design
By the love of his lady so fair, and divine
The queen of a land so far away in time
With a king who held her ever so dear
Locking them away alone from peasant's view
None of his subjects gazed upon this mentally ill king
He had a smothering love for his queen,
Abusing her in every way
Never there for love, but only in his mind
She hadn't felt his touch in years, other than abuse
Then one day her knight came in on his white steed
They loved under moonlight each night in secrecy
Hiding their treasonous affair from the evil king
Until one night he caught them
The knight dueled injuring the king's ability to speak
The queen fearing their treasonous death
Plotted and schemed as not to be beheaded
To the knight's chamber they carried him
Dousing the room in oil laying him on the floor
Dropping the lantern the knight held
Flames rose in the chamber, consuming him
The queen screamed to the subjects for help
All the court came running to douse the fire out
The knight and queen really started
The true king was unrecognizable and couldn't even whisper
The knight came forward as her husband the king
The queen burst into tears,
Explaining how the knight attacked her,
Setting the room ablaze
All his subjects bowed before the knight, the changeling
I am sorry dear king, the subjects said
As the knight pulled the queen to him,
Ushering them to take him away, to the dungeon below,
Shackled, and chained, in his own kingdom
In the dungeon the king waited, to be beheaded
The knight secretly became the king instantly
Taking his spot next to the love of his life, the queen
No one suspected a single thing
She visited the king one last time before he died
Telling him how she loved him, stroking his cheek
Watching the next day as they beheaded him,
Hiding her head in her knight unknown
Her dark side she displayed
The day her knight became her king
And her king became some subhuman thing
He had truly always been
The knight now the king with his lovely queen
Ruled for many years, having ten children
Of tainted royal blood, but no one ever knew
Their secret love and darkest treason ever committed.
its there time
to get in line
listen to to band
the hogdog stand
catch from the wall
the water fall
this is the reason
KIDS AND BASEBALL SEASON
Let's wait for the sunset one summer's day
down by the river where I always liked to play
we can kick off our shoes and bury our feet in the sand
come on please be my sweet river man
We can call the wild geese up with a little dab of feed
or jump in the water a little too deep
in that old Red River we can laugh and sing
take me by the hand, make that leap
Write our names in a heart in the sand
you can be my sweet river man
and I'll be your sweet lady river friend
we can hold on for life and scare the catfish twice
anything’s possible that time of day
my white sundress is a little bit dirty
from that red water that always stays so murky
I wouldn't want to be any other place
than down by the river where I always liked to play
and when the moon comes out tonight
and the stars shine bright
your sweet river lady
is going to sing to her sweet river man under the moonlight
watch those stars shooting in the dark as you hold me tight
until we see the sun start to rise
yeah down on the river where I always liked to play
nothing’s changed much since I was just a babe
but now I share with my sweet river man, my favorite place to play
A noble story one that ought to be our good host laughed and swore the games begun. Come match the knights tale if you can sir monk. To bellow arms and blood and bones he swore. A noble one I'll pay off the knights tale lets do this right. You tell yours by and by either I'll speak or go on my own way. Everyone listen but first i will propound that i am drunk i know it by my sound. For I'll tell a golden legend and a lie. Forget your ignorant drunken bawdiness it is a sin and great foolishness. Tell us of other things you'll find to lack i see you are angry with my tale but why. cuz you are a fool your head is overpowered by the wine. If you are not enjoying yourselves then cut off my head but as i drink my wine and ale. Whoever won't accept what i decide will pay for everything we spend along the ride. So hold up your hand if you accept my speech reflect a little and don't hold me to blame if you choose wrong don't lay it on my head. And both of them had bawdy tales to tell theirs no sense making earnest out of game.
You make your move
Up the stairs
a cool breeze
Makes you flare
like a duck on a river
You stay still
Stoned for death
White as a ghost
Fleet like a pest
Like a cow flowing on the upper side of space
You make your move
Down the stairs
A cool breeze
Leaves the air
if it fits
you know it
it has on kit
it a shower
that come from above
Life’s tortures seem a part of my biological design
absorbing pain, a phenotype
and solutions, seemingly advancing in a slow motion
ten hands all over, tearing my blouse
hundred long nails
shredding my skin down to the dermis
The waters have turned salty
and all edibles-decayed with maggots
I’m roasted by hunger and fried with thirst
pressed by two rocks
and the valley of escape filled with thorns and reptiles
I’ve been tied to the Earth for even animals to trample upon
escaping from a dangerous path
lands me on a slippery ground
sliding down, having a free fall with no help
The same life which once passes urine on me
has now provided a fresh stream for a deep bath
the same sky, once filled with pregnant dark clouds
shines the light of hope and freedom
I’ve been hit but not crushed, bruised but not bleeding
heated but not burnt and swallowed but not chewed
I’m out! I’ve overcomed and now I’m free!
Focus means everything!!!....
In times of our lives we strike out but it is a team sport.
Think about when you hit that home run!!!!!!!
It really doesn`t matter at that MOMENT who was there and who wasn`t.
Who applauded and who didn`t.
Moments are all we have, when "time" itself was calculated by the stars and man;
therefore i fail to believe it truly exists.
Love and The Fight For Survival continues on............
(Let's play ball!!!!!!!!~incidently my all time favorite sport to play, watch, and
burn 'em, every chance I get!)
Spring is here!!! WoooooooHooooo!!!
Life is just that way.
Thanks to all for allowing me to openly express myself here at
this soup, where there is no norm in form, it's just poetryman.
No right, no wrong...
Let's shake hands because it sure has been an exciting game that at times I didn't
realize I was even playing...!
All in all life is sweet and short.
May you be blessed in your lives and your creatitity.
to drop off a load
they go city and town
no one around
need to eat and sleep
so they hop on a cot
Without him beside me, my future seems so bleak, being naïve,
i was told he was not meant for me. Ignoring this world of cruelty
and its power tear our world apart. Now sitting i ponder why I being so naïve from the very start
My tomorrow will never come, for I will forever live in his yesterday. Turning my back on the one who loved me in every single way.
Not even time can heal a shattered heart, but I guess somewhere in his heart he loved me after all
Many times I’ve dreamt of him and unable to hide my tears,
As I reminisce that sad day I decide we go our separate ways,
I pinch myself, as in a dream, knowing it is not true,
How could I let go of such a man, no woman would ever do.
I remember the look in his eyes when he dropped by and found my note. Pain crippled on his face leaving such a heart in pain, as he read along “My heart is with you but I will forever be alone, never will you and I share a place of our own. Rejected by all to cross the color line thinking my love is blind".
If again such a love should come my way, I’d break free of those dark days I’d confess my true heart and reject the rest and break through this racial barrier and fallow my lovers path wherever he lead to ease this heart that beat to grieve.
They built the underground chamber well reinforced with concrete to the depth of
three miles into the center of the earth. NO steel girders were used. They did not
wish to be trapped when the atomics started dropping from the sky. They putt three
tons of food within reach for everyone to survive. Radiation suits with water in
drums to be used only in the event of the end of the world. They even used double
doors like saloon doors which could not lock them inside. But they forgot what could
happen iff Murphy is in charge. The SILO for this is the right title of this thing the
SILO for this is the designation of this thing the SILO drifted above them only 17 feet
away but it could not have been worse it could have been 17 miles for there were
no equipment down there for them to tunnel up or out. The spokesman for the
group turned out to be the worst the nerves evident in the strain of her voice there
is no reason left to us. So now we will die here entombed no one could foresee this
problem the concrete silo above us has drifted into the earth trapping us
underground for the rest of our lives. Which recourse will not be much longer now.
The lifer PFC Hice stepped up to the dirt floor roof just above them he took his
shovel from his pack then he began to dig slowly at first then faster faster he pulled
the dirt from the opening letting it fall behind him uncaring he begins to turn the
tunnel to the west to begin his task of getting to the concrete Wall of the silo.
NOTHING else matters now to most of them they sought out ways to help him. He
turned over here he is to sleep then wakes to begin the shovel urging the others
taking turns to come up behind him with the bucket then drop the dirt into the
kitchen or the stove they filled up every free spot in the effort to conserve room they
intended to win this fight for survival now. For where there is one free Man there is
hope for the others. It took too long to get the concrete tower open. They found
them there one September. They held open the tower door for the Prime Minister of
the world. He took one look to the Man on the tunnel floor. He smiled. It is my son.
He died he gave his life upp here down here trying to get them out he was trying to
save them. He brought him out into the light only to bury him further. Such is the
power of men. Such is there intelligence. One huge MegOHBlister.
Sitting there late last night!
I took everything in with my deepest breath about me.
I could quiver feeling the warmth sinking slowly in,
I was covered over distances which I could now see.
I had left myself.
I was gone again.
I was above and beyond the clouds,
Soaring deeply with every one of my though,
Higher and higher I rose,
Reaching loftiness’ I have never once felt.
I was a bird in flight!
Stunning with privilege I had brought.
Feeling myself from deep within!
Standing there that night,
The radiance beamed all around me so I took this in.
And lo and behold, there I went again.
I could feel myself while locked deep with my thoughts.
I was absorbed inside by everything surrounding me.
I felt the depth that my eyes could never ever once see.
Loosing all truth of myself, every sensation my soul had caught.
Further and further I rose, reaching capacities I had never felt.
I’m a feather in the air,
Gathering sensations inside of myself.
I lay there that night, mind, body, and soul with me.
I was calm with the breeze,
Inside of myself,
And once again I was a bird in flight soaring so high and much too free.
I was locked sound with my deepest thoughts.
More and more I rose and impact for impact I felt.
Feathers of a bird in flight and one of me I have surely got.
Ever since that night, many, many things have come to me.
One by one, gathered by the sensations carried all over me.
Touching inside of myself, again, again, and again!
Higher and higher I climb to reach the very tipsy top.
Gathering it all, I am more of me when more of me can be felt.
I am the breeze in the air touching the many feathers these birds have brought.
Many feathers just from sitting here, but each the soar of the wind has surely caught.
I’m a bird in flight gathering all that is real or not and all that is captured in of my-self.
I am surely the feather that fell from the very top,
Because I am now what then I surely was not!
I am simply that feather in the air falling loose and free inside of myself.
®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
The Desert near Ajo, AZ
Funky town. Got to go. Drive up a road--couple a blocks from the Plaza. Road curves becomes dirt. Hard dirt—eroded dirt. Not a pleasant place for a car. Out in the desert as fast as walking through a door. Saguaros poked up everywhere. Three types of Chollas threaten. Jumping, Teddy Bear and the tame Cane. The Teddy Bear amused Zelda. She had batches of spines in her mouth and all four feet. I grabbed a rock and knocked them off. I pulled the barbs out accompanied by soft yips. She went bounding away to the next mess of spines. I woke just before dawn everything was rugged, but the sun was not blocked except by the horizon. Warthogs, those instruments of war—were still plying the sky, but they were high, high and could not be heard. Only the birds. Nothing else. Not a thing. My relations with the others are awkward at best. Harry was no problem, but I had a feeling, he was miffed. I know his wife was, as was mine. Something about talking with no concern for others. “You just go on and on and on. You don’t listen! You are a complete asshole,” Sue said.
The glacial slope is tall, a vast and perilous globe
It has been a whiteout for nearly three days now
We do all we can with our equipment to maintain our footing
The surface is so uncertain, but the summit is within reach
5 am, Thursday (?), We are awakened by an earthquake
An intolerably loud crack, perhaps a large chunk of opaque ice falling into the sea
Some sort of strange eclipse now, a great silver moon appears overhead
And now---now a wall of molten yellow magma approaches us!
I must stop writing and seek shelter, pray for us small men!
i can tell by your smell
when its a tail
this time it fail
you can smin like wail
and feel free
DON'T LIE TO ME
Twinkling eyes that sparks, funny how emotions can takes over the heart
Impossible words that is hard to find, thinking one movement and he might cross
the line. He wore his pride like a badge, but the wounds in his heart is deep,
and for him to love again is just a broken dream.
Even through loneliness scream when he’s under his sheet,
He rather succumb to its sting, other than listened to the silence song his
Heart had to sing. Known his heart is a self made wall,
And he’s not the type of man she should tell how much she loved afterall.
Thoughts kept running through his mind when he recall
how profound he looked her in the eyes. Making him feelings so awkward that
he could not control all he knew is having her besides him daily, his love will grows.
He realize that her tender care is the only thing that keeps him alive, yet he
Settled with routine and afraid go beyond the boundaries.
She reaches out to feel his touch, but somehow had not get enough
Thinking of going her way, but she knew her mind will suffer in everyway
He took her in his arms, where she found security. Hands in hands
She looked in her lover eyes and saw the love inside and
Made him show the feelings, he always had to hide
Tears fell down his face as emotions takes over
his body language says everything and there things became clear.
The Bard of the Norseman
A warrior’s fame and for glory all Norseman live worthy of life
Worthy the Norseman with warring axe to victory and spilt Saxon blood
For spoils of the serpent’s lair lie across the whale’s road
Far from the girls in the houses they love
Seeking a quest these warriors of Oden -always the dream for a bard’s song
Now set sail upon a journey –a glorious adventure- a hunting do they go
Do steer the battered sea-steed adorned by dragon’s head and tail
Endure the breaker of trees from artic northern hail
Skid the waves and endure towards a foreign mystical shore
Below a pallid sky-candle and darkening gray dim light
Nebulous rains doth hinder the rudderman’s impeded sight
Till at last the first oarsman peers across the misty horizon
Mystical panorama- calls acclamation unto Oden- makes call of reached land
These feeders of ravens rave honor into Oden
Lord of the gallows hath made the glory of the elves to shine
Down upon warriors the sun makes glisten- their metal horn helmets and shields
Set afoot to feed the eagles-prey on either Christian or druid-with a wounding-hoe
Seeking untold fame and glory and carry back a dragon’s hoard load
To brighten the battle-sweat of those made conquered
And sing unto Oden- tell their tales- make legends of victors
Believing Valhella's glory to come thus hunting they do go
Doth all Norseman perform deeds of valor with axe victory and slaughter-dew
So did live the Vikings Danes Anglo Saxons who wore warded blue
Tamera liked to run in the cold, on a whim she stopped by Woolworth and bought a package
of hot tamale candies to eat after her run. She loved having a reward for everything.
Wearing her golden sweatpants Tamera decided to run laps, which she loved to do on the
track alone late at night as the moon tipped his head and winked at her. She started this
shortly after her divorce. It was cathartic for her to watch her warm breath rise in the cold
air. Running in the winter made her feel alive to be so cold, to run and beat the elements.
She loved the feel of the wind in her hair as she ran.
She didn’t notice the man that joined her, until he passed her. She hadn’t seen him before.
He had a Florida Gators jersey, orange sweat pants and a blue ski hat on. She liked his
strides, they seemed fluid. She had only been running a few years herself. It was a hobby
that she enjoyed. Having company on the track felt good, normally she had the track all to
herself. She usually left after running three miles. Tonight she felt like running more laps
than usual. She kept running. Her new friend kept running too. Tamera was always
competitive. Who knew maybe she could outrun him.
She found her rhythm and felt the adrenaline rush of the endorphins finally kick in. That's
what she like about jogging, the endorphines. It felt freaking out of this world!
Her heart was beating fast, her breathing was steady. Her strides were growing wider and
longer. It felt so good to Tamera to be alive and one with the track. She almost felt like
she was flying over the Grand Canyon.
She kept running and running, until she could hardly feel her legs. They felt numb, she heard
the crowd as they cheered for her. She saw every handsome man that she had ever known
standing on the sidelines naked as they were cheering for her. She smiled at them as she
passed them by like a blur, for she was so fast. She imagined her ex-husband lying on the
ground rolling around in sheer pain as she ran all over him to win the race. She saw herself
jumping over the highest hurdles with the grace of an agile deer. She was in her runner’s
After a while, she noticed she had the track all to herself once again and her handsome
gentleman, Mr. Moon had also moved along. When she checked her mileage counter, Tamera
had run eleven miles. It was a great run, the best she had ever had. It was a great night to
The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.
First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014
A jungle of mysteries, ruled by uncertainties
nurtured by intrigues and cycles
but invaded by misnorma to fairness
is a system, sustaining all animate interactions.
This is Life!
No rule, no formula, just connections
with only one goal: Survival.
The summation of one and one
differs in various situations.
An Engine powered largely by fate,
averagely by efforts and relatively by luck
is its inevitable offer which cannot be rejected.
That is Life!
Attracted to a beautiful flower
like a bee
then abandons it to make its comb
on a tree.
A being can be in command
to all achievable accolades
but is still never at the top, like an employee.
Such is Life
Making an attempt with fire
can result to so much glee
but absorbing its mere flames alone
can make you pay a huge fee.
A hopeful, innocent and cute new bride
now becomes wiser, stronger but a divorcee.
Such is Life!
It can be the hotness of coffee
with sweet smelling expectations
but swift bitter results.
Surprise! Its wholesaler,
glancing afar to see
but what is really wanted is just below the knee.
such is Life!
It is a supermarket; absolutely free,
naked one goes in
no matter the shopping spree
nor the testing of best Diamonds
naked shall one come out
that is the only guarantee
regardless of whether you agree!