Purposely off center, on tippy toe.
What a feat; completely nuts.
Tummy tuck, umbrella in hand,
just clowning around; on the brink
of a niagara fall. Tintinnabulation of
power, provoking an audience cower;
…over the rainbow it seems.
The audience holds on for dear life.
Colors blossoming like sunbursts.
Muscling up courage to close my eyes.
The ringing in my mind, an eruption
of a pale face, red honker, on the edge.
Blinking umbrella with ab rise and fall.
What was I thinking? Can’t turn back,
losing my grip, decentralized.
The audience holds on for dear life.
Convinced I am
I'll never be me again
The one who created the pain
The one who had so much to gain
But lost out in the end
To a race against time
A figment of me
Just a pigment of hope
Lie down at night
No sleep to make up
I wander about
Through today's events
I worry about tomorrows as well
There is no real balance
When I am always off center
My mind never shuts down
I Whisper I can't do this anymore
Can't continue to live in a past unforgiven
I am stuck here in the void
Can't trust myself to let my guard down
Feel only alone is how I will live out this life
Scroll through the pictures on facebook dating
All so many choices but none ever get back
Am I just a lost cause
Confined to all I fear
It's a stain that won't wash out
Am I really that unlovable
Is the cover just to torn to turn the page
So much unsuriness so little dedication
To branch out away from past thoughts
It's alarming and endangering
Have I become that lost soul
Only time knows
All the secrets I hide.
A fixture of grief,
anchored where memory splits.
The quest unfolds in fog—
no path, just pulses
of unease mimicking direction.
Every thought incurs penalty.
Fear taxes breath.
Dread rewrites the map
before the journey begins.
An unseen impact
knocks the axis off center—
consciousness spirals,
fractured, repeating.
Focus becomes a casualty.
There are voices,
but they speak only in sanctions.
No comment.
No deviation.
No witness.
Even breath becomes strategic—
withheld, rationed,
used to mask retreat.
I speak in silence now.
Each word I don't say
becomes another wound
I have to learn to live around.
bamboo pipes heaving raindrops
breaking silence against stone
deer runs off
Skinny kids
Wrinkled clothes
Crooked windows
Non-symmetrical
Snowman slightly off center
The “Olds”
Wrinkled fenders
A round-headed driver
A teetering toboggan
Hanging from its roof
The artists
Sipping hot cocoa
Hanging on the parlor wall,
over paper the color of leaves in fall,
is a magnificent painting.
Full of hopes and dreams,
and all those things,
full of life and love and color.
It is masterfully done
(and "masterfully" hung).
From my plush chair, I admire it.
Tilting my head from side to side,
and closing one eye,
examining the brush strokes.
It is unique in every way.
The best I’ve seen this day,
but there is one thing I can’t ignore.
One thing that should never be said,
a haunting group of words that bring dread.
“It is... off center.”
Steppin’ Off
My Platform
I
Will
Miss you,
It’s only so long
And not a swan song
I have projects awaiting
They need some attention
An untenable encumbrance
Far too many to mention
So I’ll be takin’ time out
Or bound to get worse
September First
Steppin’ off
It is the grey of evening...soft lamps glow as our hood readies itself for some crumbs of comfort:
Old widows wrap themselves with pillows for third- hand affection,
Children yawn sure as rain that mothers will lullaby them like so ,
Single fathers brew coffee to tide them from a hard day's sweat-
Senior men listen to music begging for new memories...
Young ladies lonely shut off their doors... praying Psalm 91,
It is evening. This is where we are...getting older in wisened thoughts , to gather slivers of reflections, of dreams met and unmet...
Icy winds shiver a bit asking: how will we savor to the pulp, this one beautiful life possessed?
And the light shuts off.
I am an afterthought.
I am a blue shirt
in a sea of red.
I am the off-center
tire that makes
the bicycle wobble.
I am my own shadow.
I am the couch
left out in the rain.
I am the left shoe
on the right foot.
I am the invisible
one at the table.
I am the poet while
others watch football.
I am the missing
puzzle piece.
I am the fifth wheel.
I am a swimmer
against the tide.
I am the square peg
that doesn’t fit
in the round hole.
I am the lost child.
I am the grown-up
who has disappeared.
I am alone in a crowd.
I am the oddball out
in the land of what
passes as normal.
Cats go out then cry to come in.
A runt-end of shade wilts.
We feel the pull of a Lunar tide,
sense the off-center mewing,
of a dissonant aria.
Trembling dogs hide their body-bones.
The air is strained through fisheyes.
A clammy light gnaws,
while white-faced mice scurry
on twilit paws.
There will be an end of sorts,
a draining away. First, there must be,
this ailing after-glow,
an infiltration that wounds
the tender skin of reason.
A mad moon had broken lose,
from the cellular jails of fitful thoughts.
A dead Siren rampaged,
in a cold rage of silence.
The day may heal, a new dawn,
defeating all spectral trails,
all night-walking fears.
Until then we must watch
a pall-bearing dusk
depart on crumbling stilts,
observe from a dwindling distance,
a naked crone wanes,
turns in ever narrowing circles,
as she seeks for her life.
Had a crazy dream last night
Dreamt I was living in a world
Where kisses were units of currency
First thing I thought of
Was that cute li'l cashier at Walmart
To pay for a $50 item
Would require 50 kisses plus tax
Bringing the total to 60 smooches
I would start shopping for all kinds of stuff
That I didn't actually need
I'd even buy ladies lingerie like bras and knickers
And give them away to my neighbourhood ladies!
In all likelihood I'd go broke
But man, would I be a happy bum
Going to bed now to hopefully pick up
Where I left off...
What makes us take off, off in flight. Our wings, wings upon our back. Each beautiful feather, makes up each of our beautiful wings. With our wings we can fly high or low, we can cover you for protection. You will find us in all different sizes, we are your loving guardian angels.
Date Written:2/13/2022
Finally home,
Alone
Staring dimly
into
the night sky
Is it as
beautiful
As they
say it was
All the lights
And the
dark-ness
Seem to profit
from
departure
And I'm alone
No ones home
Did you miss me
when I was there
Reminiscing
of where we
started from
Dandelions
tear through
windows
of faith
Lovely is
the fate
you were
never
fond of
holding
on to
Lift
the wind
Sway
the night
Kiss
the end
and
live again
Now that you're alone
Are you home
Is it beautiful as
You thought it was
Signing off...
The world shifted and here I stand
A tired and lethargic man
Who demos death to avoid life
It hurts to think, just close my eyes
A crippled cell ruined the richest man
And the poorest isn't safe now
A gaping pit formed under their feet
A frosty giant awaits
Burning home, left alone
Their snowy corpse was white as bone
The world shifted and here I stand
Empty of heart and brain and hand
Inflexible yet rubber-made
A mighty oak born within shade
They cried for hours over our best friend
For whom they lusted
A polyphoric fungus feeding on
Whoever would listen
Live decay, turn away
Sinking deeper every day
The world shifted and here I stand
In a kingdom of rust and sand
Off-center and endless of height
Upon this throne of blackest night
The world shifted and they're all gone
Vanished within the rays of dawn
Caught making love with death and rot
So here I stand, it all for naught.
The Tower of Pisa started leaning
Builders knew by floor three the meaning
Soft earth they say
Still stands to this day
More than 16 feet off center careening
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