More twists in some tales,
peak and trough, allied suspense,
layers of intrigue,
which kept one fixed to the page,
gotcha end plot a bonus.
password to open the heart forgotten
we wandered earth like a deluded ghost
then one day we became a child again
meaning innocence was then soul’s outpost
cleansed of stain, we broke free from ego’s chain
reclaiming light by God’s love begotten
Sometimes life can be peaceful
And Sometimes it can be quite
You can even hear the needle drop
What is so funny?
Sometimes life can be full of drama
And Sometimes it can be stressful
When is this pot getting hot?
The bomb has exploded,
As the seas collide
And the tree bears its fruit
The world is watching
As the river becomes full
And the grass is getting greener
The world would be amazed
A book is becoming a reality,
Sometimes life can be wonderful
And Sometimes it can be loveable
You can even hear your own voice
Hilarious it is
Sometimes life can be full of achievements
And Sometimes it can be accomplishments
When is this pot getting hotter?
The bomb has exploded.
Accepting omnipresence of boundless space
and fixating our attention upon it,
we notice that from its pores in-pours God’s grace,
recalibrating consciousness bit by bit,
as our steps to heaven we slowly retrace,
requiring lamp of love in heart to be lit.
Silence, stillness and total thought cessation,
pierces the veil of space in meditation.
Twirled about by desire and fear,
saw thought apparitions appear,
with the aim to drive us insane,
binding us in attachment’s chain,
blocking God’s light from drawing near.
Here she is
Her smile as if painted on
Shining, eye catching
Her shell cracking
Breaking, snapping
Slowly revealing the true little clown
Oh, my silly little fool
No amount of pain or porcelain could hide something as hideous as you
Oh, now don’t weep
Don’t fret
After all, the show isn’t over yet.
You tell me to stop
How can I
When the porcelain play never stops
It has to keep going
For the crowd
Yet, the cracks...
They are slowly taking over
Slowly breaking
my so carefully built play
my life
my happiness
The cracks get bigger, can they see?
no amount of joy can seal them now.
The crowd, it laughs. I'm glad. They don't need to see my cracks
Yet...
Is this the end?
Is this where my porcelain facade finally shatters?
Will this be the final bow? The last act before it ends?
Will I be brave enough to take my last bow?
No..I cannot.
I try to gather my broken porcelain pieces back together, hastily.
I don't care how they are put, as long as they are hiding the scared, frail monster.
I look up at the crowd knowing, tonight won't be the last act.
The show must go on, for now and forever because of my cowardly behaviour. I don't bow.
I finish with a grin, a wide tooth filled grin that is the perfect finishing touch to my porcelain facade.
My perfect disguise.
My beautiful porcelain play
cracking the quiet space, toddler with seeds
feeds ostrich through car’s window,
giggles with jocund joy
8/20/2022
The poets talk of love.
Do you think they know
What it means?
A shimmering dream
Of sunlit grassy fields?
(So they say)
Or an endless stream
Of wet dreams?
Holding hands in a cinema
You watch translucent transcendent lovers
Kissing by a fountain in the park.
You caress in the dark
The sweaty, stubby fingers of another,
Of your lover
(So you say).
Still, I am no poet
I cannot sing of how I feel
In neat metre and rhyme
Nor reveal to you my crime of passion.
You must know what love sounds like
And must hear it in the glacial cracking of my heart.
She’d pull her hair, mean as a rhinoceros.
But I do care, though she skipped school
on that fateful final day of her life on earth.
Funny how I did not know about it.
Until yesterday I’d have thought she lived,
waiting to die like the rest of us, one day.
I cracked open the box to grab the handful
of group’d Catholics - kindergarten to sixth.
We all look sweet when we smile, we’re fixed
up by parents who care how we look on the outside.
Surprised how I remember many of the names
and just as surprised at the forgotten ones.
For me, I had teeth missing, one black tooth,
one collar tucked into my dull-colored jumper.
Jealous of the moms who’d fix ribbon’d pigtails.
My favorite of me was in fifth, showed I was pretty,
too. I go from student to student through seven
years. All dear to me, now. Each soul, each name -
perhaps I shouldn’t have compassion on each
but I desperately want to believe in their goodness.
2/6/2021
We always keep the windows cracked
To get a little air.
Of course, we may then be attacked
By winter’s frigid fare.
But that’s okay – some extra clothes
Provide a counter point
So we will never, I suppose,
Be very out of joint.
Apartments get a lot of heat
Which often seems extreme,
Though window-cracking helps us beat
The dominance of steam.
Clatter claws cascade downward into listening drums.
Pigeons are the worst. Rose bushes sit quietly all summer
then only after they have lost their heads
do they scratch and squark nightly.
Toilets that are not in your home haunt and taunt.
Dry joints crunch down - listening synovial cartilages
stick shift and slip out of gear.
There is the jack-hammer juggling of junk mail
as it flaps its paper wings and falls untidily.
Sometimes dreams climb over the hedgerow,
clamber up a back wall, and then hollow bones play
upon the rooftop - deranged harpsichords
goad a hungry moon to howl for something dead.
Knuckles crack under a sheer cliff of silence.
I hear Oregon banned smoking
~ though I'm a little hazy on that
Cracker bell
Sounds
Poll Elephant coming
keeps butting her head against the same mirror
it cracks and breaks finally
so she finds another one as close to it as possible
Same scenario,
Same scripts
Same arguments.
This mirror leaves too
Why do all the mirrors leave me? She asks.
The cat has no answers. Just glad to get all the attention now.
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