He slides open a shallow drawer,
its wood catching slightly
before giving way.
Inside, the day’s minor slips:
a receipt with a transposed digit,
a label peeled at one corner,
a measurement off by the width
of a pencil mark.
He sorts them without hurry.
Each paper earns its place
only after he reads it twice,
sometimes three times,
to be sure the flaw is real.
A pencil rests near his hand,
shortened from use,
its point dulled by careful work.
He sharpens it only when needed,
never in anticipation.
Some errors he sets aside~
not rejected, simply waiting
until their purpose clarifies.
He has learned that small mistakes
reveal themselves slowly.
Near midday he finds one
in his own notes:
a digit written too quickly,
leaning out of line.
He corrects it without comment,
then files it with the others.
When the drawer closes,
the room settles.
Nothing finished,
nothing abandoned~
just consistency and
the quiet record
of what the world overlooks.
You were my caffeine and sugar crashes,
flew me so high only to watch me fall.
Knew my trepidation when flown so high
true energy ran smack into your wall.
Consistency is the best kind of buzz
Honestly? I’m a fool for dopamine.
Coffee flashes and romantic rations.
Me? I need you all day and in-between.
Some days are good
some days are bad
some may be OK
while the rest could be
the very best you ever had
tho' there are those
who go
with what they know
always stay the same
consistency may be the key
but I prefer to up my game
some hands you win
some hands you lose
sometimes you break even
then there's when you have to pay your dues
but when the peculiar becomes the familiar
on the slow road to nowhere
the trick is knowing when to call
rearrange the chips
see where they all fall
it's time to make a change
O’friend who lurked in your path to undress you?
And bound your hands with threads of sorrow anew.
To shatter hopes with sickening lies that blends,
A dreadful cloak that flails the joy your life tends.
Who can find rest when goodness is shoved away,
Replaced by sadness settling with a heavy sway.
We all are victims, dare to face your fears trailing,
Lest would rend your hopes with spears, wailing.
Have you ever been thrust your nerves in the night,
Alone on that bed, sleepless and immersed in plight,
Doubt and pain heavier like it’s a tide we all feel,
And before you budge in despair, to God appeal.
For every lie that sought slitting our hearts apart,
Shall fall as truth begin mending the wounded part.
Copyright 2023
When you see monsters snarling at you
From those same clouds which you thought
You would ride seated upon mighty unicorns
When you hear swallowed gulps
From those whom fate has willed to walk
Beside you, going towards the same destination
But having to experience life from their own world
Just close your eyes, breathe in
And allow scenic views to paint themselves
Upon your unique canvas,
Allow your flowers to bloom to exquisiteness
In your own secret garden
Allow your music to compose itself
And play of itself as majestically
As would a symphony upon a cosmic stage,
Allow yourself to consistently move
Towards your fated destination
Without being in competition with anyone but thriving
In your given freedom, letting steady consistency be the medium
To guide you and to allow the end result
To play itself in your favour
As majestically as life itself can be!
Consistency
it’s missing, you see;
kidnapped by a world in chaos.
Rabid shadows leap forth,
from nightmare-scapes
that leave me paralyzed;
nothing’s ever the same from
one day to the next.
One day I saw, a dragonfly
among the cattails;
total serenity of nature,
an elysian painting, pastel gentility.
Disillusioned now, I see the ugliness
of concrete jungle;
a hellish specter where once,
ran the creek of my youth,
sporting dragonflies and cattails
graciously waving.
Redundancy, & Consistency; a slow death.
Seeping into the spine, deteriorating the bones.
Curve balls exist for a reason.
The vast roads that wind, different ways.
Paving the path for a scenic route, away from the drudge.
Wasabi for the palette; changing the senses for a new tasteful delight.
Cuddling with a new cashmere blanket, feeling safe, cozy, and relaxed.
Jumping out of bed for the next adventure under the vast constellations.
Soaking up the rays on a river rafting tour.
Monotony, Redundancy, Consistency kills the soul.
Individuals say this on their last breath.
Creating a bucket list, of time lost, adventures to come.
Breaking away from the norm, dancing, singing, kissing in that rainstorm.
We suffer seperately in our factured future.
Even though we are only three streets away.
But in many ways we are Mars and Venus.
With only the pleasure of wishing on shooting stars.
Longing to meet somewhere in the middle.
But there is so much space between us.
Being pulled by unknown forces.
Perhaps we'll see each other again on the next time around this dying star.
Fully aware that our paths will always bring us back to each other only to rip us apart again.
There is love in this consistency.
We may do this through all our lifetimes
but of all the world's cruelties at least there is beauty in that it lingers.
"Consistency"
by: Eric L. Boddie
Contemplate, debate hate
Rate state magistrates
Mate great fates
Wait....date late
Deflate straight weight
Emancipate inmate traits
Dissipate irate gates
Indicate! Investigate! Litigate!
Incarcerate? Degradate? Incinerate?
Rejuvenate! Captivate! Demonstrate!
Innovate! Motivate! Fascinate!
Anticipate! Dedicate! Articulate!
Communicate....congratulate....exonerate
Infiltrate....penetrate....interrogate
Implicate! Detonate! Annihilate!
Separate? Segregate? Disintegrate!
Is Consistency a Divine Attribute?
Is it just ‘faith’ or proven ‘fact’ tomorrows’ suns will rise?
Were rainbows there before the flood, ‘Old Testament’ more lies
Or metaphors for ‘Truth’ that stands? The ancients understood,
They trusted this consistency; trees form the heart of ‘Wood!’
Are groups of trees that stand alone a proof no wood exists?
Do fits of rage, do lightning bolts, does pain mean death is real?
Is Love a prison, Death escape, who tells you what to feel?
Is God our future, more a curve, man’s name for what persists?
Is any Truth eternal friend? A universe blinks out,
A tree that topples no one hears: is silence more devout
Than sound? Pay logic’s dues! All answers lie in faith to me!
Pain aids our growth towards God; Is Life the child of Ecstasy?
Long Tooth
August 29th in 2019
Life, I think, is a bit of a paradox.
Floating through this desolate void devoid of context and explanation, (some might suggest value as well, I suppose);
I conclude these idiosyncratic murmurings of bothersome almost-people
Reprimanding my almost-conscience are just a whit of an empty, emaciated white whale of a civilization proclaiming pseudo-camaraderie and disappointing undertakings as suitable solutions for contentedly concluding one’s existence.
Though some perceive fraudulence efficiently, soaring quilled shafts of deceit unavoidably puncture intimate electing properties of our conscious.
No barricade can shield humanity from himself.
With living comes a constant quality of inconsistency,
despite the state of existence itself being incredibly monophonic,
permeating my formless breath and solid heart like no other experience.
Well… there is another event I imagine could deliver a pure, unadulterated sensation of intoxicating eternity.
I will wait for him, peacefully, until he arrives on his sweet, milky steed.
O dear old friend, deliver me swiftly unto my end, the true undying void.
Composed melodic words unfortunate rhymed too melodramatic
Opened a dictionary to find sonorous words
But it seemed odd style
New thought popped up
Stood sentry to the idea
"Tuck in a million phrases"
Affianced to the whisperings of it
Nicked off to the sea shore
Circumspectly I realized a prayer would serve wonders
Excitedly I created a smiley simple note,
Suddenly the gray sky cleared and my heart rested calmly
All that mattered was a priceless HELLO to Humanity.
CONSISTENCY
Written By: D. Collins 6/28/16
Consistency is waking just to pay your bills.
Once that is over, we're taking multiple pills.
Like late, baby-boomers, I ain't going out like that.
I am keeping in shape, and stacking my stacks.
High Blood Pressure!! It won't be found in me.
I get down on the ground with such consistency.
Feeling the burn, while actually doing it raw.
Building something from nothing at the very start.
I put in the work, and get deep in the grime.
Sweat like a beast, and give a bit of my time.
Old muscle tissue only lasts for so long.
Its up to me to make it vibrant and strong.
It starts with a two-pack, then works it's way down.
Giving solace to getting down on the ground.
There's nothing hard about putting in work.
Making major muscle groups damn, near snap from hurt.
I look at my kitchen
it resembles my mind
that is good...indeed
It is damp and cool with clouds wanting to rule
The clouds seem to get heavier and black
Sun looks weak_ trapped by weight; raindrops on pool
Now the cool damp rain is coming no slack
Weather changable but God is constant
Thank you God for your great consistency
In those clouds I am seeing reliant
Laws set in motion by God no aberrancy
Sun's light rays cast like a cradle holding
The clouds up such beauty in simplicity
Each morn fasinated I am beholding
The glory of this new day's specificity
Specificity sent by God for all to behold
Each day free of charge human uncontrolled
Finis
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