I wake to a ceiling that never changes.
The light spills in like an accusation.
Time is a slow leak,
dripping purpose onto the floor
where my feet no longer rush.
I used to believe in ladders.
Now I just stare at ceilings
and wonder if floors exist.
I measure my days in coffee spoons,
tiny scoops of borrowed energy.
The steam rises, restless and aimless
like thoughts I never finish.
They settle somewhere I can’t reach.
I used to believe in sunrise ,
Now I just pour the day
and ponder if hours dissolve.
I suit up for stray interrogations
pride buttoned up like a carapace.
Sweat trickles and tickles
like suspicion crawling down my spine.
I drape pantomime across hunched shoulders.
I used to believe in conversations,
Now I just nod my head
and surrender to the script.
I tally stones and crumpled bottles
toss them like failed intentions
into the bin of almosts,
where echoes of effort rustle
like mice skittering down rusty footpaths.
I used to believe in plans.
Now I just trace the outlines
and color them in with sighs.
I crawl toward the bed like a deadline I missed.
Even sleep feels like work I am not qualified for.
QUESTIONS….
They thought my
dinnertime inquiries
about their days at public school
were interrogations, investigations
pursuant to suspicions of misbehavior,
missing homework, dissatisfaction or
deeply hidden traumas needing parental
intervention
I must have seemed imposing and
invasive, annoyingly aggressive as
I peppered them with questions, ignored
their heavy sighs of resistance, their impatient
rustle of reluctance and refused to accept
their silence as they hid behind their mother
like Black Bear cubs in a forest making sense of
dangerous smells
Unhappy in my marriage
all I wanted was to know them,
understand their thoughts and dreams,
share in every new adventure, in every exploration,
in every damn discovery and in the daily new
delights that only thoughtful kids delivered,
full of bright and shining promises taking flight
toward the future, making me really glad
to love them, making me glad
to be their Dad!
You don't have to see this:
You don't have to stress the eyes
Cause you won't understand
Yes!
You would not
You don't have to...
Nothing is wrong!
You don't have to read my poem
You will wither into my pain
Please don't read these lines
You could be caged in.
Please don't go further
Tears may freely roll
Eyes may freely swollen
Hearts may easily bleed
If you continue with this write
It may read the truth
Yes!
I said stop!
I have been accused
I have been depressed
I have been blamed
I have been chained
I have been bullied
Raped
Ignored
Used
Betrayed
Mostly for zero cause
I can feel your concern
Yes!
I can!
But you should not...
Life is funny
And I have seen it
You don't have to see that
You don't have to think that
Cause nothing is wrong
Do not worry
Do not think it
Do not stress it
I am fine
Forget the allegations
Forget the interrogations
Forget the accusation
I mean forget the...
I am fine
Nothing is wrong
Just let me be
I need to be alone
I need peace
I need rest
Please, leave me in the dark
I am fi... ??
The very moment I experienced her attitude, she lifted me to quite an altitude.
Her perfumed demeanor and composure, was to me an extreme exposure.
It all started with a gorgeous walk..then followed a talk.
Her dimpled smile walked it's way persuasively through me, leaving me helpless obviously in the hands of an empress.
Intoxicated by her interrogations I was, rendering me drunk to be frank.
"Who wouldn't wish for this fish to be an everlasting dish?"
I continue to reminisce, as I miss a Miss in a metaphoric mess.
When my days seem to be
Full of obscurity and desolation
And when my vision seems unclear and blurred
When the world becomes
An arctic and void atmosphere
I find aspiration in you
Never in my uninhibited conception
Could I fathom fate and destiny
Are finally civil to me
For all the years of
Affliction, adversity and demoralization
I've endured at the grasp of love
After all the interrogations and investigations
I've inquired regarding love
Has made this journey quite profitable
Who would have considered
The Answer would be you
Zena hailed from the Zeta Reticula star system and she
was bored with the military’s handling of her. Day after day of
interrogations and discussions for weapons or space travel.
barbed wire
she yawned wondering if it was
to keep her in or them
Tonight's episode...
When rumor meets reality,
what truth shall shake loose
as your body surrenders
to temptation rising?
Resolved to perform
interrogations and coercions
that land on agreeable moments.
Snapping like orchestrated jazz
and toe taps.
Your body produces a rhythm
that vibrates a zip code
so imagine how it feels next to you.
You bring out Q and Ray in me.
I'll be as good or as bad
as you need me to be.
Resist if you must, but don't deny
the third yes.
Surpass glass ceiling type heights,
I insist on it.
Make angels pay attention
as I keep you uplifted.
Proclamations of emancipated thrills,
yield to a hero's will, and I'll save you.
I promise I will. If not this time,
then next episode, somehow,
someway, even if it takes bubblegum,
paperclips, and a shoe string
I got you.
dancing to the rhythm of my world
it helps me to ignore you and the force of the grip that pulls you
the rhythms heard are the medicines of my motion
it is then when i can truly be free even in conflict
my exclamatories become inaudible whispers
my interrogations become internal answers
there are no tears for they are abolished by laws of simplicity
there is such a thing in life....if you only let it in....
dancing to the rhythm of my world
it prevents me from the mighty clutches the continuously pulls you (back) in
the beats experienced are the elixirs for the sanity of my wearied mind
my heavy bellows become murmurs barely breathing
my inquisitiveness becomes exponential edutainment
there are no fears for they are abolished by laws of simplicity
there is such a thing in life....if you only let it in....
A crowded table, all suspended in shock
The sound of the shot dimming to a ‘knock’
Only silence, except for the marching clock
The weapon still smoking; an anonymous glock
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Loud cries arise from the elongated table,
Jack Frost is shocked, the Tooth Fairy unable
To speak whilst Santa is checking the stable
For clues on the erstwhile maidservant Mable
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
They searched for hours, called in C.S.I,
Panic set in, would the children all cry?
Sandman confirmed the bunny had died
Batman suspected somebody had lied
WHO KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY?
Guests were quizzed, interrogations began
The mystery unfolded when Santa Claus ran,
Grabbing the pies, he tried escaping in a van
But was stopped in his tracks by superman
SANTA KILLED THE EASTER BUNNY!
A repetitive stamp on a passport
can expedite our joyous first meeting.
Love spurs a nervous heart
towards a new, unknown life.
Papers collected and shuffled,
we pray for official acceptance.
The gatekeepers eyes penetrate
with suspicious glares of denial.
The bureaucracy divides the masses.
A mother, a brother, a lover
denied access to greater connections.
Mercy is not spoken by the immigration clerk.
Phone calls, email, and goods travel across borders.
People are not granted such freedom.
What is the price to enter the fortress?
Only those with fat bank accounts enter this land.
I would risk prison to touch your warm hands,
clasp your sweet face between my palms,
inhale the tender aroma of your fine silk hair,
graze the soft delicacies of your smooth skin.
Where must we flee to share a moment together?
Free from the interrogations of the government forms.
Is there a place on this globe for lovers?
Where fences give way to fertile orchards.
" EVERY MAN DIES - NOT EVERY MAN REALLY LIVES. "
~~~~~ *-* ~~~~~
LIFE
Always
Cease with DEATH
Fairytale ? "NO"
Deeper than BREATHING
Or even Survival
Scrutinize being within
Interrogations - scour ripostes
Peregrination - seek...life's defined
Life's worth-living when mulled - LIVE WITH ITS GIST!
I thought I saw a snowflake in June
Perhaps, it was just silly daydream imaginations
Or were ongoing investigations really do
Upon further horizon inquiries
The sun ended interviews in blushing denial
And when heavenly interrogations finished
The sky was turning guilty blue
I’m absolutely sure
The clouds were somewhere amidst the cover up
Fortunately, a little pigeon squawked
And revealed something of the simple truth
That, there was a brewing
Conspiracy of rumors, flying
So I ruffled stoolie feathers convincingly
To spill the beans, out with his scandalous news
It seems a wintry prima donna
Performer of the coming season
In order to beat the ratings
Broke out early and was somewhere on the loose
Could it be
The very same stitch of ice I'd seen
A snowflake thespian
Acting out in the month of June
Then, I saw a glistening
Of arrogance pass right before my eyes
And tiny banner waved
Followed by the squeaky words “see you very soon”
I rubbed my eyes in disbelief
And then, my tongue was quickly unleashed
As I closed the case of any further flakes
From trying to make their premature Hollywood debuts
I am a stranger. My reclusiveness
And painful lonesomeness in my exile
Is severe. But yet in my aloofness
I contemplate an unknown charming isle
And this meditation surfeits my dreams
With specters of great and distant lands that
My eyes have never seen. Although it seems
I am a stranger with no welcome mat
To greet me from the crowd, I say within
Myself, what law has joined me with them?
I am a stranger to myself, wherein
I hear my tongue; my ears always condemn
My voice. I hear my inner self impart
Unknown interrogations of my heart.
Of cold hands, of cold feet
Rage lies in thy heart
No one could understand.
This world is an oblivion filled with innocence and dishonesty.
Of feelings and of truth
Lies are the only truth.
Beholding thy warmth of rage,
And rage flows through thy veins, no one could understand.
I am a face made of lies,
A mask made of smiles.
Truths are asleep in my eyes,
And only thy heart knows why.
Questions, interrogations
They are crap of my mind.
Feel them, hate them,
And now you’ll see it as a surprise.
Feelings are of unreal
And truth hides beneath my feet.
Still I won’t show these things.
Because it’s the only way they won’t be in pain.
Maybe I shouldn't
Retire to a hermitage,
Just me and four walls;
I'd drive the angels crazy
With my interrogations.
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