After dark, it's just jam and disarray.
Like the rain of wet stars upon the moon.
Determine how to pinpoint a highway.
After dark, it's just jam and disarray.
Such as stained glass and silver gold to buy
My spirit will be full of wind whirls, soon.
After dark, it's just jam and disarray.
Like the rain of wet stars upon the moon.
Written: April 26, 2023
I once was asked, "What is my worst memory?"
The memory that haunts me,
Making the darkness suffocate me,
Until i can no longer tell if i am breathing,
Or being caressed by death's embrace.
But, how can you pinpoint a single blade of grass,
From an overgrown lawn?
Or select a unique snowflake,
From a winter's furious blizzard and say,
"This is the one!"
So many horrors lurk in my past,
Threatening to escape the cage that contains them.
Do I want to risk opening Pandora' s box?
Do I want to expose the tumours that torment my soul?
My thoughts lead to alternate paths of what could be,
If the mind monsters roam free from inside of me,
For even a second.
Madness lingers,
Eagerly waiting, cloaked,
Ready to pounce and tear away my frail and fragile sanity,
By cruelly thrusting suppressed nightmares once more into reality.
The fear is too intense,
These catastrophes will remain where they are,
Locked away in a cage,
And pushed back into the dark.
Praying that one day they will be forgotten,
Unable to harm or hurt,
Just bad memories that were left alone to die and disappear.
rise and shine early
to make the most of every minute
out and ready to pinpoint a direction
picked a fine sunny day
to take time off and
play tourist in my own city
go exploring with fresh eyes
no predetermined destination
just a general course
no agenda not even a watch
go with the flow
see what tugs my heart strings
stop and go as I please
turn right or left without a care
shade or sunny side
check out people as they go by
engage or not
today is my day to be free
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~TO BE YOUNG AGAIN~ 2023
AP: 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2026
all litters as i walk the dunes
and so i cry to sunlight,
the tree hides it in its roots,
to spring up its stem,
the settled sand of the hour glass.
i thought a while about the fish
in the sea,
zig zad,circles,
why do we walk in a file?
if only we could wipe those litters:
arrows that shatter the heart.
i draw a picture
cobs after lion,boys after man,
(the fields still greener ahead)
and i pinpoint a finish,
in the wide gullet of mother earth.
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