Blackest wings, scale higher than mountains
in the chill of tonight's air,
scarred and bleeding from within,
determined to reach her lover's side,
A voice calls out to her voyage
but her vision gets lost
as it starts to drizzle and rain.
She collides & in such pain,
her claws trying to embed in the side
of the rocks but she keeps skidding down,
and at the last moment he scoops her up
having flown down & heard her cries.
But she dies in her lover's arms,
gripping his ribs and those tearful eyes....
A setted carving,
Written by privation
Words that leak through unfilled ink
Gawping empty between ridges.
Then those canyon cliffs retreat again
Back down to their weary plains
Brothers undo brothers, as
All plains worn away.
And those letters of privation
Are gone, as empty were their valley hollows
Their hollow fame ungained.
Vectors collide head into head, their
Perpendicular paths to ruin
Skidding, crashing, melting, bubbling,
Paths fuse and fissure, which spitter into nothing.
In death’s head shell, a poltergeist cackle
A ghoul of concave echo walls
It throws flaming cocktails to profuse undo
And set alight the beams of memory.
And knowledge stolid, solid meals,
Waste to famine, thoughts
To hollow dreams, not recollections,
What deceit
Are believed imaginations.
Set alight those beams
And worn down hollows of privation
I am left with hollow dreams,
Not recollections. What deceit
Are believed imaginations.
Lines in lightning carved in stone?
Geoglyph, take form.
Mile behind the melee zone?
Keep the soldiers warm.
Bright beside the boreal pole?
Buildings in glass, shine.
Heaven and Hell, thy control!
Doom and Death, we dine!
Trickle, time? Riddle or rhyme?
Boxes, sheath the mime.
Dynamite, done on a dime?
Skidding in the slime...
Forlorn and forgotten?
Adventure, dare to seek?
Render red run rotten?
Ergo, the boneyard creak.
Sleek as tigers in the grass?
Dare not here to tread.
Linen round the looking-glass?
City of the dead!
Chlorophyll, do ye streaks leave?
Deceased child, bereave?
Gold, when absent, do they grieve?
Hone before you heave.
Believe what you want, scion.
Miracles abound.
Chess master, sac queen and pawn!
Flicker til you're found.
Round the vizier's chandelier?
Diamonds, sparkle grim.
Dinnertime! What do ye fear?
Crater, cone to rim...
It gets into all the machines
and freezes up the works,
it coats the sidewalks and front steps,
and slipping on it hurts.
It sheens the railing so that when
you grab them gloves get wet,
it lays on branches so they break,
the living and the dead.
But worst of all, it coats the roads
in glass you cannot see,
you only know when your Honda
is skidding fast and free.
The snow will bring us great beauty,
stark sculptures carved in white,
and seeing those big, fluffy flakes
makes winter seem alright,
but freezing rain, I must confess,
is like the mosquito,
it probably serves some purpose,
what it is? I don’t know.
I hate to hate what nature makes,
but sometimes, it ain’t nice,
I call it scourge of the northeast,
I hate, I HATE, black ice.
sun
gnaws
diamond
smiles
bird flies
moon covers
skidding
down
pierces
encircles
sparkling thought
in
pursuit
thin moon hangs in the blurring light
when the red tape of work ends
day's end
before darkness darts onto idling pillows
a too slight shine to navigate the strain of living
wounds unstitched
like a heart unhealing from over-crowded transgressions
a feel that's too familiar
nestled in the treads of tired
where we can't always control the skidding
crescent moon
dangling, unsettled in the sky
shrunk in a sparseness of graying
pinched edges from a light threadbare
unable to lift toil from labor's bones
haggling for some salvation
I'm skidding broadside,
in a cloud of smoke.
What an awesome ride,
as I go for broke.
This journey called life,
shouldn't be pretty.
Nor laden with strife,
just keep the gritty.
I'm totally fried,
what a wild ride!
~Johnnymac
Skidding along the ice-covered ground
Traversing like a runaway hound
Eluding, hopping on series of mound
And lines of snowflakes over a thousand pound
Skiing from a snow peak so high
In my soul an eidetic heart that thrives
Your memory I keep alive not sigh
Your vim in me that cogently drives
With the dancing sun that shines on me not dries
Over and under frigid trees my skis and I flies
Hails and blizzards never bid you my byes
My feet on drifting snow, my heart never dies
The floating moon sends you my voice in verse
You, I adore, and pray for without haste
A boon in my life I hoist, not immerse
Up and down the snow-filled hills, my love I praise
Remote works.
We're all floating particles, anyway.
Oh c'mon!
Let me live again!
How do we measure the distance
Between two hearts?
If no man is an island,
And every man is an island, then,
Where are all the women?
I'll go there, under the silken light,
Shifting passed the shadow dancers of time,
Scaling pudding-like blocks of emotions.
I'm talking cubes twice as high as your head.
Your head is not in a cloud.
Your head IS the cloud.
We're all working remotely,
Skidding and squirming around
Each other's feelings like
Over-polite mice.
Or blasting right into the hailstorm
With Mad Max mania.
Oh, the options.
Pick you poison.
Pick your President.
Nevermind, your vote doesn't count.
But I love you.
PAPER PLANE
A project with my small son
After so much paper folding
Sharpening important creases
Anticipation slowly increases
Thumb and forefinger holding
First flight testing has begun
He sees me throw the plane
Into the garden’s warm still air
At first it floats and then dives
A sense of freedom in our lives
What’s a wing without a prayer
Swooping down to crash again
Initial plans were crafted well
Launching to fly into marriage
Reminds me what went wrong
All planes land before too long
Skidding with no undercarriage
Flights suspended as you can tell
Dated 26 August 2022
Over the years curiously slim:
For ten full years Evil fought him
Or so his skidding mind had thought
And the notion made sure he bought
“You get away now, I repeat
Or ready get to take The Heat!
You that think yourself Hard Demon
But haven’t tasked My Lemon.”
Over the years nastily blunt;
Like a dog an image would hunt
“Your Fine Lecturers Empty Skull,
All my questions proving them ‘dull’
And stating naught but his virtues…”
And this had meant ‘A Mind Trapped’
A Bad Footwear quite neatly strapped…
And it’s kept making him A Stick,
A man by forces played a trick:
Links between Mind and Body shown;
Keeping both intact ‘challenge thrown.
As I hike
The winding Rattler paths of Green Mountain
It’s tempting to think
Beneath my skidding leather shoes
These marbles of red stones
Were scattered and tossed here
Just today
Laid out
While I was still eating breakfast
Though I know
The mountain is rising from iron boots
Shedding its skin
Shaking to wind
Alpines cracking its rocks like eggs
Boulders giving way if you imagine a day
When the ranges are here
No more
Rolling down
In their own tide of time
Plunging without trace
To the bottom of a future azure sea
I have a strange thought
That if a black bear foraging this early autumn
Came along and found me
Perched on the moss of this throne of stone
Writing poetry
And began to devour me
I would keep my quiet
Until his stomach was full
Lumbering home in a bonnet of sunset
Me
Set free to the universe
Two women walk by
Shatter my silence with growls and hunger
One says to the other
“Well, he’s doing a lot better.
He’s been sober one year but he told me
He really doesn’t see the point to life
Anymore.
"I mean, what do I say to that?"
Night frost,
Shining on the road,
Slippery and slick,
Clinging to plants,
Clinging to cars,
Vehicle skidding,
Shivering in the cold,
Wrap up warm,
It's so icy outside,
Breath like smoke,
Fingers freezing cold,
Gloves to keep them warm,
Sand on the roads,
Sand on the paths,
Take great care,
It's icy out there,
When the night frost hits,
In the morning light,
Danger can be seen,
Sheet ice,
Take care.
Whimsy roams around my living room
Flipping the curtains, laughing at my consternation
But really do I care?
Not a wit.
Fanciful language slips into a sliver of the floor
Skidding to a stop in front of the mouse carcass
A stench that is losing its potency.
Adjectives bounce up and down on the couch
Treating it like the trampoline that it is.
I pop my hazel eyes, feeling a speck of irritation.
Of course Trixie, my muse is lying on her back.
Kicking her legs up in the air, chortling.
Tuesday.
Forcing myself to try….
One scribble after another.
Wintery mix
Asthma inducing air
Windchill is fourteen below
Ice under snow
Cars doing donuts
Skidding across freeways
Seeing your breath
Wheezing kicks in
Cheeks pink and frozen
Middle of the USA
Iowa Kansas Nebraska
Frozen unification
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