“I hold a delightful being and an undesirable being inside of me.
It’s up to you which one you meet”
~~The Poet~~
dismally destructive
yet charmingly creative
unabatedly chaotic
obligatorily perfection
unsophisticatedly naïve
graciously worldly wise
uncouth and ill-mannered
poised etiquette
audaciously rude
enticingly eloquent
unsuitably slovenly
exactingly efficient
decked in Shabby attire
styled with cultured couture
disheveled, dingy
polished, well-groomed
in company of many in ill-repute
thoroughbred acquaintances
robotically draconian
artistically graceful
“I hold a delightful being and an undesirable being inside of me.
It’s up to you which one you meet”
~~The Poet~~
dismally destructive
yet charmingly creative
unabatedly chaotic
obligatorily perfection
unsophisticatedly naïve
graciously worldly wise
uncouth and ill-mannered
poised etiquette
audaciously rude
enticingly eloquent
unsuitably slovenly
exactingly efficient
decked in Shabby attire
styled with cultured couture
disheveled, dingy
polished, well-groomed
in company of many in ill-repute
thoroughbred acquaintances
robotically draconian
artistically graceful
Pixabay Image
Enterprise, man's quest exploring the unknown.Make it so!
Nomads of space in cryo-sleep
Time has little meaning as decades pass
Eerie atmosphere is computer dependant
Rrobotically maintained humans sleep
Perilous solar storms and asteroids navigated
Rampant chaos of earth light years behind.Beam me up, Scotty
Indeed the point of no return has long been reached
Science fiction ignites curiosity. Live long and prosper!
Earthlings quest to understand universe.Resistance is futile!
Had a little fun with this one. Quotes in bold print from Star Trek.
Jean Luc Picard "Make it so"
Captain Kirk "Beam me up, Scotty"
Spock "Live Long and Prosper"
The Borg "Resistance is Futile"
Elbows must be packed more carefully.
I catch the eye of a flight attendant.
Some preliminary questions…
"Miss can I be slipped into a less edgy wedge?
She frowns, resenting perhaps my ‘miss’
should have said ‘mam’…damn.
I carry on babbling –
“Could my mind be more swiftly amputated?
Is it possible to be shuffled laterally
until I intrude less and match more?”
Now she is throwing daggers of hate towards me.
Are the engines honking like killer geese?
Will dinner come as an intravenous drip?
Is that kid vomiting back there?
Her dislike of my questions
is as palpable as a cudgel to the head.
“Miss I can’t see; my eyes are too near the seatback.
Will you stamp my papers D.O.A. now
to save time?"
My voice through the triple layered mask
sounds like a hyperactive zombie.
She smiles robotically.
"Sir, will you please stop blinking,
you're making the other cargo nervous."
I watch a sunset
that I'd love to share
and nobody sees it but me
I'm scratching my head
in utter amazement
that nobody cares much to see
Things to accomplish
things to get done
a million things every day
And all of these things
have one thing in common
they manage to get in the way
"In the way of what?"
as you may well ask
"I'm doing my best to get by."
And oh, what a shame
so sad and so true
we squander our lives 'til we die
And doing their best
devoid of expression
their faces are empty and bleak
So busy, so dizzy
en masse, repetition
robotically, chronically weak
And what are they doing?
Yes, why such devotion
to this seemingly endless malaise?
They're taking a rain check
and storing up treasures
and longing for much brighter days
No time for a sunset
no walks in the park
no place for a soft ocean breeze
They march on in madness
a dutiful army
en route to their chosen disease
There are times when you feel like this is your limit
Nothing else can be as difficult as what you are dealing with
At this present moment
Maybe you are right in thinking that
But when I look at you
Knowing the turmoil, you are going through
I can’t help but look at you in admiration
You have your off days
You have those I want to “stay in bed and die days”
But tomorrow you get up again
You do what needs to be done
Even if it feels like you are doing it robotically
I wanted you to know that in all the chaos
I see you grasp for the connection to remain sane
I wanted you to know that I trust in your fighting spirit
That my faith in you has not been shaken
That God in His infinite wisdom has not forsaken you either
He is walking with you over the mountains
And when you become weary He will carry you
Just remain in Him
@260120171324
Perhaps too often... we give up in life
Perhaps too often... we thought we could've done
Too often... if only we could be precise
Yet precision isn't only for champions to shun
We can always do so much more
Why the withdrawal... why the refrain?
We grew to robotically ignore
And to automatically push the blame
I do not think the many centuries has taught us well
I do not think the modernize world can change an innate captivity
The word simple simply no longer spells
The much ask for yet unattainable simplicity
We ask for love only to be too selfish too share
Yet we do share only if beneficial in absolute secrecy
We have a need to be nice not that we dare
We can't just be nice in this world of shrouded decency
Too often... much more we could've done
Too often yet...its much easier giving up in life
As bearers of our own uncovering truth we shun
We further cover with deceits to thoughtlessly survive
Beside the beaten path, I ride
Passed the followers who robotically glide
Over the rocks, the pebbles, and the stones; goodbye
They make their way home and I the same...the throne
Like programs written by the user
They have one task to fulfill
I write my life on my own keys
The virus you cannot kill
And I'll wiggle my way in
and eat from the inside
Until I'm full and want no more
Until the way is mine
I gasp
Morning is cold.
I outstretch my arm in empty reach.
I gasp.
I listen for the miracle: the shower
door closing behind him.
I gasp.
I wait for my toweled Rodin and
the whistling kettle.
I gasp.
I’m not sure if can get up today.
My breath returns and I robotically rise,
Gasping.
Kathryn M. Collins©
revised Nov. 15, 2013
(would have been our 44th anniversary)
The Forgotten Lover
she dances in front of me
airborne on weighted wings,
burdened in detailed details.
blind to my eyes she stays
purposely hidden
but e'ver so viewable inside
in graceful soundless flight
doing daily do's and don'ts
arms spread wide, lips in wait
nobly christened to serve
giving a must
trusted beyond
she robotically marches forward
in her daily stride
tired, drained, alone yet filled
does she smile at the sunrise
rejoice with the moon
i am blind to either
who is there to hold her so dear
what does she taste like in a moment of tenderness
and gently stroke her golden heart
a life filled with her memories
of days and nights engrossed
in others
sadly, nary a kiss
arms holding nothingness
warmth that cools in time, waiting
alone at the end
boundlessly captured
waiting to be loved
the lover waits
for the lover
that has to be
© Charles H Keys, 2011. All Rights Reserved
Jabez's prayer is recited from
The side of the refrigerator
Near a magnet from last summer's
Vacation bible school
Early morn and the quiet
Is interrupted by myriad birds chirping
The rumble of a refuse truck robotically
Empties the dumpster from the front
Passing cars creak and whoosh
Mrs. Garza's nightlight clicks off
Automatically the day begins
Entangled with snores
The ice maker gives birth
The central air unit cycles on
Announcing the cool air needed
For a going to get hotter day
A distant dog barks
The muse is crashed by the
Stumbling into the room
Cabinets creak open and the
Electric can opener growls
Open a can of syrupy tangerines
smackingly devoured while the spoon
Scrapes against the metal
Ancient civilizations are described
As the now too loud television alters
The air waves
Then the national anthem waves
A train whistles pass
As does the morn
And the mood broken
Or enhanced by a reality
Of sneezes and snorts
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