What do you do
when you’re riddled with riddles,
swallowed whole
right down the middle?
Music blares,
but it’s not me.
’Twas a toot or two
from a fiddle.
What do you do
when your riddles get riddled?
When you’re all alone
and you fiddle your diddle.
Nothing comes out
but a little
piddle.
Compulsively arranged
and out of control,
thought after thought
has swallowed me whole.
Riddled with feelings,
I pick at my mind,
looking for answers
that no one can find.
Can you connect the dots?
I’m trying to justify
whatever still rots.
Riddled with riddles,
discarded
like an afterthought.
Something’s not right here.
Something became
a knot.
Have you ever wondered what I was thinking?
When I look at you, my mind spirals.
I see you yawn and wonder,
Does your mind sound like mine?
The voices talking over each other.
Interrupting each other,
Never finishing one thought
Before beginning another.
Eventually, one rises above the rest.
I asked you if you had heard the noise and
You looked at me as if I were broken.
I walk again where quiet hours have been,
A garden dim with thoughts that will not sleep;
The wind remembers all that might have been,
And stirs the restless shadows I would keep.
There is no sound but memory’s soft refrain,
A silver echo trembling in the air;
Each moment lived returns to live again,
More fragile now, yet somehow more aware.
I hold a word you said—so light, so small—
It blooms and breaks a thousand times in me;
And in its breaking, I can hear the call
Of all the things we never let be free.
O heart, why turn these embers in the night,
And breathe them back to sorrow’s quiet flame?
The past is gone beyond the reach of sight,
Yet still it whispers softly, just the same.
If I could lay these circling thoughts to rest,
Like petals falling where no grief can grow,
I might at last find silence in my chest—
And learn the peace I do not yet quite know.
Maybe she won’t think so hard next time
I ask her if I’m real
Maybe if she told me the truth
I wouldn’t have to lie so much
Maybe if she brought me plastic flowers
The bees wouldn’t die like the birds did
Maybe if uncertainty was promised
I could say she kept her side
Maybe if she didn’t look so nice
I could see myself in her
Maybe if she didn’t keep so tidy
The cadaver dogs could smell her closet
But maybe if so much was undone
She could feel as if there was hope
But maybe if they were more thoughtful
She could have a thought of childhood
But maybe if she loved herself
As much as I love her
You could know it’s all for you
i am stuck at the bottom of a well i dug with my own hands
the stain from dirt on my nail beds
is too embedded to be cleansed
ablution wont be found here
a purposeless place too sunken for sustenance to fill
water is too pure and too righteous to visit me here
i befriend the cracked walls and we trade stories of misery
rain has forgotten to fall at my feet like she used to
the sound of quiet has been silenced by the weight of my past
burdening me with a tune of melancholy
“what say you, dear friend? will you stay by my side or will you let the lion die?
its hunger, coating you in arrogance
unwilling to accept your nature
the people no longer rest here, and the water that once lived here has ascended back into the sky
yet only you, my dear friend have found comfort in the nothing i have become”
the voice croaked and dry, lonely walls who comfort an unstable mind
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
silence speaks volumes~
the pause between syllables
echoes truth like thunder
Unlike a Spurgeon, I by dull words unfold
The limits of my Sarah's love for me,
But I realize that the rot and stink and mold
Are all within my mind, beneath my See.
There is no other person who can love
For me. It is my duty and my joy.
It is the Truth that True Love is made of
It is the difference of man from a boy.
I am no counter of the counterfeits
That weigh love by the dram of sweet words said,
But rather, I am one who from above
Receives the gifts whereby he bakes his bread.
Into the practical and humble things
I'll pour my Constancy and give love wings.
Rumination
CornBurst
Snare-Dodger
Stoddard's Monk
Manifestula
Pila Pilosa
Shepherd's Share
David's Cape
Curiosity: One.
Squirrel?
-Gray Squirrel
06-05-2025
People with heavy minds
They are of all kinds
Yet all are entrapped with the same binds
They think and think more, Than they blink
in few clinks, Of those binds.
How heavy of chains they bear
How dense and murk is their fear
How they shed those blood-soaked tears.
From where can they find the courage
To fight fears which have them pillaged
Being enslaved by their own mind
Turning their gaze blind Oblivious to all.
Are their solutions on hindsight,
Or will they fly amongst Arctic tern,
To burn their concerns in the flames of blue? To soar akin to a Phoenix, And rise above their fears
To Royal Prince George and Royal Princess Charlotte
How to save a Royal etiquette explainable when loyal rumination is not?
In a supplicating interlocking prayer
I witnessed so many times , simplicity
Ode to divinity.
After all those are left, one by one
after asking me, "What we may do, for a room-u?"
I remained silent, as God speaks in hands, often.
We, muslims, supplicate with concave hands, and through yearning
Once the interlocking prayers are accepted we all will go "Home"
Even beyond homeland security
MFA class in PM time, that often in competition with God
Godsay and God say are in "issueroom" for a "room-u" reason.
To troubleshoot you need an origin, method and mannerism that piled up, through all these years, as cumulous clouds clutter and declutter, in a poem, "The stranger", or a magnum "The stranger,"
If I see them ever again, back in my life
I will ask a policeman to have a wishful sleep
so that the acro climbs up the royal Tajweed
The Boldest and True.
And so on...
1-19-2024
one
one goes
one goes gently
one goes gently into
one goes gently into clouds
one goes gently into clouds of
one goes gently into clouds of rumination
ruminating clouds grow gently in one
ruminating clouds grow gently in
ruminating clouds grow gently
ruminating clouds grow
ruminating clouds
ruminating
Trials, persecutions
It's unbearable sadness,
Makes the heart numbness.
Repetitive thoughts drive
Ratifies depression
Rationalism leaves
Randomly they pop up
Return constantly~haunt
Rented a room in brain
Rage incessantly-trapped
A person who is depressed can't help this something hijacks part of the brain and makes it hang up in this negative state. Something is needed to throw a wedge in there to stop the constant repetitiveness. Meds can help, counseling, change of habits, good nutrition, etc.
-(who)-
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[[[am i?]]]
Drawn recollections
think for yourself cocktails
mercy bills of sale
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