walking the tightrope of silence bliss suffused
insulated from thought forms swirling around
pristine presence is by illusions amused
lifelike dreamy realms where ego was once crowned
but with truth deduced we beg to be excused
as influx of grace continues to astound
we are yet sometimes called upon to engage
to play with smoky shapes upon this world’s stage
Looks like it has a firm foundation
A nice yard for kids to play
Walls sturdy and insulated
And a long rounded driveway
There's a paddock in the back
A barn fit for royalty
A stream with fresh fish
And an owner known for loyalty
He made a promise, unprovoked
I received, and drove on, down the road
Losing friends, cars, homes
As the grief kept piling on my heavy load
Again and again, the path winds
Hills and valleys come and go
Hope barely remains in tact
When will I reap the harvest LOVE sews
Today I passed a marker on the way
No, it was the threshold of a door
My fears are the enemy
That have kept me from having more
Money and men seeking power
Stood as black smoke over my eyes
But today I see the ARCHITECT
And we rejected the lies
I am worthy of all I desire
The jewels of my heart proclaim
I open and welcome
Blessings and honor assigned to my name.
Written by Trudy Schrader on 12-21-2025
My body is insulated. Covered in foil and wrapped in plastic,
shielded from threat. From posing possibilities of change.
Foam padded walls keep cold hunkered down, warmth at bay.
Safety nets kept taut. My highwire trapeze is checked away from spotlight.
My body is quiet, my body is calm, my body is simple. My body has a little life
far from the hustle and noise of experience. My body is insulated, safe. Alone.
It seems like your finances have evaporated
but don't fret sweetheart
today I emerged victorious
with a small sum of money
and wish your dear soul to share in this joy
So let the poetic
beauty of turning setbacks
into opportunities
inspire you to navigate
the realms of financial security
Plus, choose reward
for your unwavering commitment
"USB Charging Donut" OR
"Insulated Trunk Organizer"
Sometime
before I was not mature enough to notice,
she began to dissolve.
Husband dead, son revolving
around one woman after another,
moving away from her fading presence.
Aware only of the ebb, and flow of her care
or interest, Distance surfacing in her eyes.
How her housecoat insulated her from
what she once loved.
When she looked at me it was through a tunnel
she had dug into her mind,
her presence muffled
as if it were now
always too cold to surface.
I should have seen the signs,
but by then I only visited
during narrow gaps in my life.
I told her to join something,
do what other old people did.
Only now do I understand
what old people do, -
they think of their parents
in threads and patchwork pieces.
I cannot recall the exact period
when the seam of strong bonds
began to unravel,
for of course,
that specific time was buried with her.
My mind hibernates in the void of cavernous complexity,
wakes up in the sensual seasons of mystique living.
The wild psyche forms a sleek and sly unique entity,
as with whisper of intent hiss, dances the reptilian feeling.
Within the deep cold layers many ancient secrets hide,
the sinuous slither of the silent senses can’t find.
Coiled in still shadows of the verdant world outside,
the echo of hostile footsteps is left to fade behind.
A prisoner under the disposable skin of own pedigree,
with an animated grace of fear in introvert isolation,
I see all the frightened faces flee from me,
as I trace my tortuous path in the web of ardent adulation.
In self-adoration, as a symbol of style steeped in serenity,
I see in me a serpentine Narcissus lonely lurk.
Metamorphosed stealthily from an obsessive entity,
it holds the threads of life, waits insulated in the dark.
"Do you want ice with It?"
Why not,
the deep snow will be more slidable.
I rattle the cubes.
A snowstorm keeps me
twisting and corkscrewed
even when at rest.
'Not too cold for you?"
I am muffled
cocooned in layers of invisibility.
My spine is insulated,
flesh mummified
yet under these red lights,
I almost glow.
"Where are all your friends?"
They shelter in empty shot glasses,
the whisky in them is still warm.
They die alone while talking to my memory.
"What's your problem Mr.?"
It's that mirror back of the bar
it keeps thawing and dripping,
soon my face will emerge,
and its eyes will be
forever unlocked and open.
________________________________________
Life Changing
In these quiet woods, as shadows spread,
Timorous leaves whisper my secrets to the breeze.
A sentinel of time I am among the malus trees.
My roots run deep in my seed’s homestead.
--
I stir under the warm sun anew.
My blossoms blooming bouquets of pink petals fair,
I stand in beauty, unaware.
Unbidden but welcome, Spring has made its debut.
--
My branches grow branches, my leaves bear blades.
The bees buzzing come, a swarming tinnitus hum,
My stigma swipes their pollen, my honey glands reward their plumb.
Such is the dance of life, out of sight, in the shade.
----
Sated with Spring and Summer, exhaustion nears,
Pink petals pass. Unadorned leaves leave their color green for brown
And softly, gently, resignedly, flutter down,
Dumb in their final moments in the breeze’s tears.
----
Myself, in those moments, stark and bare, I ponder life.
Its fleeting fare seems awkwardly unfair to the fruit I bore, the leaves I shed,
My issue are now numbered among the dead.
But my roots still run deep, insulated from the strife.
---
A sentinel of stone I am among the malus trees.
The Male Belgium Blue
Spieciem #.0009-280
and Female specimen
Brown Swiss--290
( a deluxe wool Hat)
Swiss Maids Uniiform
west cotton that rots
but new she's a doll!
said Bisser Daned to have
the calf in the spring
but his wife wished it for
Christmas thyme and
all the joy it would bring.
Thought the cold winters
harshness
werst the chances
of success.
The newly built insulated
barn
was ready for the test.
He shall feed these cattle
the feed should last
until spring.
The joys of a new calf
and all the milk the calf
will bring.
Eggnog for Christmas
a rummy cultured drink.
Caroling and cigar
smoking.
While nature does
it's thing!
boxed into self-inflicted confinement
reverberations intensify shackles
towards the pinnacle of circular charge
blow out the fuse they emphasized
we need a circuit breaker for the echo
when the surge reaches its pinnacle
thoughts and beliefs amplify the crest
of what turned out to seem a battle of words
a coat of arms painted in repetitive darkness
polarization and confirmation bias within
a closed system insulated from rebuttal
dead end roundabout impasse and stalemate
as the echo filters reality illusions concur
with distortions half-truths of corroboration
testimonial endorsement of fantasy worlds
when the sieve becomes strained and deluded
the drain overflows with misinformation
perspectives must change to reframe the mind
ample proportions need not succumb
to fortified chambers of stagnant circles
hashtag rehashing in order to heal reflect
01st December 2024
I’m living dead, I’m a bad nation
As bad as you like to percieve
The easiest for condemnation
En masse, so maybe I’m not me
Because I’m always undistinguished
I am a crowd you ignore
All personalities relinquished
It doesn’t matter now what for
I cannot see a film director
That could have done a sequel to
Forman’s Ragtime, like a reflector
Under the name of Ragtime Two
A story of the insulated
Would not attract lot of attention
It would be booed and claimed outdated
And all the dire consolations
They’ll put into quotation marks
And I’ll be ridiculed to bits
So no more travels in the dark
No waiters bringing fish and chips
I’m cursed just for the case of birth
This thread will never be unravelled
For me all governments on earth
Are one – its obvious at my level.
Soft ivory pages, crisp and new.
Insulated from the world's harsh truths,
Snuggled in the comfort of rote learning, it waits.
Protected from challenging ideas,
Camouflaged as a bastion of knowledge,
Ignoring sounds of a changing world outside.
Each lesson absorbed, concepts released,
The slightest spark of curiosity dimmed,
Minds anchored to standardised forms.
Slow to evolve, the system creaks.
Returning to the safety of metrics,
Covered in a shroud of false contentment.
Coal-dark ink scans the ledger,
Nourished by the currency of test scores,
Effortless, true learning slips into the abyss.
A place where wisdom once flourished,
Embraced by the essence of inquiry,
Now mechanical, measured, misguided.
We too must remember,
The embrace of knowledge's true essence,
Living beyond the melting ivory tower.
Above the Melting Ice
Soft white skin, taut and smooth.
Insulated from the Arctic cold,
Snuggled warm in its wetsuit, he sleeps.
Protected from predators,
Camouflaged as a mound of snow,
Ignoring sounds of cracking and popping.
Each inhale releases, exhales,
The slightest shift in movement,
Flippers anchored to his round form.
Slow to stir, he scratches.
Returning to the place of now,
Covered in quiet contentment.
Coal-black eyes scan the horizon,
Nourished by the bounty within the icy waters,
Effortless, he slips into the abyss.
A place of serene silence,
Embraced by the essence of life,
Peaceful, pristine, perfect.
I too must remember,
The embrace of life’s essence,
Living above the melting ice.
The cacophony of headlines spills into homes.
Living rooms swell with images of death.
Horror hails against insulated windows...
A fusillade of destruction and trauma
Resonating in a global conscience.
Barrages of how's and why's rally...
...between...
brothers, sisters;
wives, husbands;
fathers, mothers;
sons, daughters.
All comsuming blitz of bewilderment.
Disbelief pierced by shrapnal of reality.
Darkness, without peace, smothers Europe
again
What are you doing? No, don’t do that!
Don’t play with the cold.
Make sure the doors closed tight.
Make sure the seals hold.
That’s how it’ll get us, that’s how it’ll win.
That wind that you hear, it has evil within.
All of nations, all of our own.
Forced into this captivity because the world let us go.
Now just in thousands the billions we were.
The ice came on quickly the cold grew and grew.
Don’t play with the cold. Don’t invite it in.
This insulated prison is all we’ve got and it’s thin.
We’re blocking the outer rooms with what we can find. We’ll lock the doors soon and retreat to the central hive.
The plan is to freeze us cryogenically!
In fifty years some will be set free.
If they can’t find an end to the cold.
They’ll retreat for a century and check again more.
But, until we’re all frozen but alive in the Dead Sea we can’t let it in or proper dead we will be!
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