Flashbulb moment in the black
Everyone frozen in a truth attack
You learn who justifies means from ends
You learn your enemies and your friends.
You look for an anchor in a bible psalm
But there's chaos in your brain from blast of this bomb
A moment that divides the right from the wrong
A moment not imagined in ancient song.
(chorus)
Flashbulb night, a sudden flame,
You looked at the light: never be the same.
You had assumptions, you thought you knew
Now you realize you didn't have a clue
A whole class of behavior you can't explain
Its time to jump off that runaway train.
The masks are off, disillusion starts
You’re so lonely now, when the curtain parts.
A fracture line through your heart
The rift widens, you must restart.
For one man it was a murder of a friend
For some a hero exposed, or a vicious trend
They began to question all they were taught
Forced on a new path, because truth they sought.
Written: June 29, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Cockle, two hooves clung over a hundred brothers.
You discovered unmatched comfort such as no other.
An awl compiled your flight of stairs to a dynasty.
A lasting legacy of resilience and strength to foresee.
A hundred tides, over a thousand plovers of sunshine
You've witnessed a time journey and a legacy divine.
In the castanet you erected, you're overweight.
Memories are archived on a home limestone site.
Without us, you'd be as peaceful as dawn.
But we found your deeds, a ruby to fawn.
Witnessing your consciousness is a sight so rare.
As eyes leave your cheek, a glimmer, an affair
Saturn flashbulb lobes are viewed using a lens.
Stunning and appealing, transcendent loveliness
The snow breaks apart in a universe-wide ballet.
The rings are on exhibit; they are a marvelous display.
A motionless, tilted cap, a mark of your grace.
To learn how to leave things alone, embrace
Ocean Treasures A story underwater unfolds.
A quahog species, so ancient and bold.
The scent of a party is anxiety mingled with eyeliner -
eyes that look with fingers crossed for some nonchalant
chatter to develop over ice. It floats around long after
your French exit, caught in cushion and lingering in lace - the
dress you bought to impress someone you’d not yet met.
The memory of a party hovers like cigarette fumes, wafting
through fingers clutching helplessly at a past unattainable;
an invisibly present forever stuck to the lips of a teenage
ex-smoker. At midnight, a party’s smell is a handshake musk
curled beside lust, morphing into crushed crisps on carpets,
burnt toast and leather-brown tea by morning. A cure for
a hangover. The odour of it hangs around in shamed text
messages and profile updates, the flashbulb of ironic sepia
photographs printed. Its aroma stays, long after you’ve gone.
She was the top-of-the-mark. A movie star. Wore dark glasses.
Wore a smile on her face no matter what.
Even after she lost her first baby
Because her husband threw her down a flight of stairs.
He is arrogant, rude, revered by his fans. A bully.
Prances around with an enormous ego.
Watching her out of the corner of his eyes
In case she missteps or gets out of line.
Sometimes the glamour we see
Exhibited for us, on a red carpet
With flashbulb happiness
Is not the real story.
Moving in circles.
like a one winged fly.
Watching over for eons,
great orb up high.
From Adam’s apple,
to Adolf’s demise,
sat silent, a fatherly
tear in your eyes.
Man’s evil deeds
all done in the dark.
Is that why in daytime
you hide from sun’s arc?
Your permanent flashbulb
patrolling the sky,
illuminates goodness;
sin nowhere to hide.
Helping us keep
our feet on the ground,
achieved by your movement,
never by sound.
Night clouds that pass
beneath your bright face,
Your gentle breath pushing,
coercing their shapes
A kitten, a lamb or
butterflies wings
A baby’s face laughing
you make life’s heart sing
time
distortions of memory
tricks played out
of things thought but not
old photos tell stranger tales
of two dimensional places
of younger eyes
and tender faces
8mm and slideshows
or lockets clasp'd
kodachrome and sepia
and oh! there's a cameo hidden
in the back of grandfather's pocketwatch
(it isn't grandmother and her name sounds French!)
but they're hollow records
of voices, laughter, or
the way someone walks
as unique as snowflakes
but prints fade out like streaking tracers
soon only one or two aunties
remember who's who in the zoo
while great grandkids think the hairstyles look quaint
and one of us really seems to favor the guy on the right
but move on to pictures of ourselves, will ya!?
not knowing that it was a good day in that shot
or if war was over, weather hot
but time exposes our brief latent images,
f-stop for all in our pin-hole lives
love, hate, joy, grief parallax'd into flashbulb shadows
and afterimages fade
carbon arc'd
onto dusty shelves
carelessly aperture stopped
into old shoebox albums
and broken frames...
I want my MTV!!
....used to be the refrain in my younger days
Rebelling felt great, we stayed up late
VJ's were the essence of cool
But now no V's to J...only so many commercials-obscene
shows pick up steam-capped off with reruns
of "My SuperSweet 16"
keeping kids based in reality...right
When did the rebel become the pitchman?
substance fell through the floor
they break necks to homogenize, androgenize
easier to sell to one soulless, brainwashed mass
video killed the radio star? Advertisement killed the artist!!
In other "news"....
someone just stuck a camera in Brad Pitt's face!!
Here he comes out of his house now, shielding childs face
He looks annoyed swatting off flashbulb mosquitos
late for his kids doctor exam
...dismissive prick...ClickClick Brad!Brad! ClickClick
If I were a star, there would no doubt
be a paparazzi genocide on my front lawn
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