Notes About The Poem
It's ok if this makes no sense to you. =)
Orphaned
A heavy sigh and vacant staring
through a glass walled cell.
Electric purple owls with golden eyes
loom about, transfixed and silent.
No going back.
Bloody rays of a setting sun
clash with a violet stream, teeming -
granting abundance to over-burdened fruit trees.
A glass of water, please.
The bi-polar moon looms heavy
wiping the smiles from forgotten sunflowers
and so many zombies shuffle around.
Hypnotized crypt-crawlers
gawk at a green sign, “EXIT.”
The smell is unmistakable,
but it doesn’t mask the desperation.
Synthetic vanilla, sterile.
The glass walls will hold.
It’s a strange, involuntary psychosis
sitting idle, as a plastic fan grumbles away
hour upon hour, under scrupling yellow eyes.
There's a shortage of Ativan and Vitamin H.
Another glass of water, please.
A yellow pup tent is pitched in ivory sand
and a purple-planked, rag-a-tag dock
is tied to the sea by a red canoe.
The campfire matches the moon,
but all is cast inexplicably blue.
Fevered dreams and sweaty palms
press firmly on the temples from either side.
Maybe a few more dollars
will shatter the glass walls,
or buy the proper paperwork.
Someone is humming a pop song
a few decades old, or so...
It isn’t the same without the guitar solo.
But still, what a lovely glowing green.
“EXIT”
There’s no going back,
not from this involuntary psychosis…
glass walls hold back the owls,
for the right price.
10/25/16
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