Stepped out on the deck as rain begins, Wind.
This is NOT a Summer storm with rainbow peaks.
Sans rescindment, the tip of the iceberg is here.
Leaves tickled by playful drops, flirtation of petting.
A smattering of autumn’s crop of leaflets color
the floor of the backyard moss. Betwixt seasons,
the late hurricane Helene gently rocks the boat,
for now, until she shows her victorious strength.
A low rumble as if a stomach needs to be fueled.
Not to be fooled, this fray will show its muscle.
Thank God for the warning, and early at that.
In past years, God’s mercy was needed in the trenches.
Inland Georgia, not so bad, but we need to stay indoors.
Stops along the Florida coast are more precarious.
Heavy rainfall, fast moving, tropical force winds
headed in my direction. Possible spin-ups.
It’s all a curiosity! A break from the mundane. Insane
to realize tomorrow it will be intensely gusting. Candles
might be lighting up my living room. Staying charged,
and in the know. Glower of the heap and holler comes soon.
Once there was a parson named Ezra Heap
Whose Sunday sermons were profoundly deep
The louder Ezra implored
The more his congregants snored
He could never arouse them from their sleep
I toss a lot of poem slag out there.
In fact, I've got piles of it everywhere.
It's gotten a little out of control.
If my muse were a house
they'd have leveled it, a long time ago.
I like to think that there are bits of shine.
Amongst the rubbish of my mind.
But doesn't everybody think the same at times?
Now and again, a loyal soul or two.
Silently come by to pick through the piles of trash.
They come with shovel and pail in hand.
Collection vials in case they strike some shine.
Sometimes, not very often, I invite them into my home.
For a warm cup of life, something sweet for sticking by my side.
Through the rainy decades and all those slag heap times.
Thank you so much, my loyal slag angels.
Good luck and keep digging for shine.
It's 4:30am and I can't sleep,
the sheep leap and lay in a heap,
told me they're tired and got shut eye,
even my own mind has shunned I,
lets just freestyle this rhyme and see where it goes,
it beats laying in the dark watching that ghost,
across the room that never comes close,
my mind protects itself from some images,
probably awake cus my dreams have edges,
nothing on the tele but Teleshopping,
trying to sell pots pans and mops but I'm channel hopping,
maybe I should count that instead of sheep to drop off,
it's dark and rainy outside and there's strange noises up in the loft,
I don't really care though as long as they stay there,
if it's burglars it's funny cus they'll hide til all clear here,
and what weirdo would brake into and burgle the attic first,
a junkie on crack thinking he's superman singing Fred Durst,
Limp Bizkit I want a biscuit in a whiskey,
I'm tired now I've bored myself, I expect I'll sleep in a minute,
this poems over matey, find something else.
(a regurgitation rewrite)
animal research...
in(to) knowing...empathy and...
communication...
shows man's languages...
(victorian...biblical)...
not of nature's sort...
human dialects...
ideas...notions...dreams are...
made to fit mankind...
just speeches...rules...
stories...scripts...scrolls...books and laws...
imagination...
language short changes...
and words...distort every truth...
handicapping science...
darwin got it wrong...
man is not top of the heap...
other creatures are...
stan sand
John John and I are like two peas in a pod
Limerick masters, pretty hard to dislodge
The top of the heap
A real clean sweep
Guess you could say we're limerick gods
They piled a heap of logs
fire they light and run away
cats and dogs come from sky
the work well done collapses
Things done in haste out of hate
make plotters foolish gamblers
when the world laughs and giggles
cleaning powder they spray
The logs fate piles on gamblers
the burning oil it adds in dark
the cries of the innocent offended
ignite revenge flames that burn souls
When these things happen, no cry
get your guitar and play nice melodies
They want to see me broken and beaten
Thrown into a heap of trash
Forgotten to the world
I travel to my final resting place
No peace here
Only articles of individuals
The forgotten and the lost
Occasionally one finds its way out
Saved from it's solitude
On display not as trash
But an item of worth
Hoping it won't find itself in the same pile
Once dirty
Now shined and cleaned
If only the world could see it's true value
Many are lost and never to find a way out
An item like me
Externally trash
Precious metals inside
I chose to abandon my bedroom's mess...since I have created it
It's not the easiest to give full attention to this untidy, enclosed chamber-like bedroom
My crazed thoughts seem to spin madly in circles...aching from a neck recovery
When I lazily lay in fear... Ah, I keep thinking of that chore I didn't do!
I'm failing in the heap of total mess, only the room piles up more
Deadened by numbness and for screaming out for help and assistance
I uncontrollably ask myself: Why does my existence
Even matter to anyone?
I frantically twist in brewing disaster... I transfer to dust and ash as I drop in a heap of failure and, worst of all, misfortune
I give up making my life a business...I got fired for giving up by refusing to take out the despicable trash anyway
I wish I could go on an expedition or a vacation and take a long break from life's chores
I'll save myself from twisting in a heap of mess
I need to clean my room!!
I didn’t know
Who could have imagined
That there are children
Who are born to become
~the Unloved ~
Some are lucky enough
To be disposed of early on
While others have the
Horrible misfortune of
~ Mopping up Sin ~
Dragged around on the floor
Like an old rag doll
Hugs and kisses from the innocent
While adults carefully
~ Grab and Throw ~
Easily identified by the markings
The child bares upon their speech
Odd, weird, shunned, vagrants
In this posh world of
~ Good People ~
Written by Trudy Schrader on August 4, 2007
Note: My boys and I were living at a women's shelter when I wrote this.
Apex of mute dreams,
Rise above abandoned floors:
Pyramid of shoes.
___________________________
Inspired by the Auschwitz Shoes
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