I spend hours a day looking for the real me
contorting and distorting myself, in new directions
feeling pressure from the eyes of my ancestors
my spirit guides cheering me on, to be me, the real me
I slink around furniture, crawl up stairwells, slither into ditches
looking for the real me
my search has brought me close
I find a sliver of myself sometimes in paintings or my poetry
other times I wonder who wrote that stuff
not recognizing the pen or the paints
I refuse to stop; I shall search for me until the day I die.
Categories:
stairwells, me,
Form: Free verse
they shave the heads of their citizens
without ever lifting a blade,
it’s all numbers, files, and boots on the street.
they steal the laughter from kitchens,
turn love into ration cards,
make hope a felony,
make truth disappear down stairwells at midnight.
they don’t need to kill everybody,
just enough to keep the rest quiet.
fear is cheaper than bread.
they smile in portraits,
gold frames on every wall,
but their eyes are black wells
where the people fall in forever.
and the world shrugs—
because dictators don’t come from mars,
they’re grown at home.
Categories:
stairwells, 12th grade,
Form: Free verse
As my dream became lucid
I confront a two-sided mirror.
As my image in the mirror moved out of sync with me,
I was forced to become the follower in the dance,
mirroring the reflected lead's every move.
I lost control and wondered who was real,
and who was the reflection,
and who now pulled the strings.
I notice that the background in the image,
is not what is behind me.
The clock is 8 hours in the future.
It's daytime there, not my nighttime here.
I wonder who's awake?
Whose dream am I in?
Who will wake up when this or that dream ends?
I move away to view the other side
of the mirror, and I'm alarmed to see
a very old man there that is clearly me!
I pinch myself, but I'm not awake.
I blink my eyes repeatedly to wake up.
I cry out in vain, but alas I cannot awaken.
I've fallen into someone else's dream
or into a dream I had before,
or one I've yet to have, in the future.
I'm lost in space and time, where things are not what they seem,
where lucidity is lost to servility,
crashing out of control
tumbling in free-fall
through the deluge of scattered befuddled dreams,
piling up like shadows detached
in dead-end corners and stairwells.
Categories:
stairwells, dream,
Form: Free verse
Yearnings of childhood
distant echoes
of mystery, magical trains
broken tracks
the mind —
often late past midnight
senses
the source
strains… reaches…
for stairwells
of
explanations
Categories:
stairwells, art, childhood, creation, how
Form: Free verse
How do I start retirement? With grandsons galore, cooking and cleaning, barrel of fun, and a runway to the twin cities. What’s next, you ask, on this escape from my library duty? Well let’s say it arrived by mail. A timed gift for the week I return. A night out? A rolex chuckle? The grand surprise? A two month jaunt downtown. I will have a seat to listen to arghhhhhh grand jury court. One day I just might begin my life. For now, I do my civic duty and for others with an arthritic limp to boot, and fireworks.
ups and downs, stairwells
leading every which way —
life’s possible house
6/22/2021
Categories:
stairwells, life,
Form: Haibun
Drainage cracks and fingers of
eroding souls.
Long dim hotel stairwells
are sarcastic chasms to the flood,
like artifacts of insanity
and poet's blood.
We dare to run down as
prisoners on parole,
humming parodies of parables
and dying at sea.
Our graves are laid in the
phantom fathom estuaries
and reciprocal tunnels
of our beginnings.
Categories:
stairwells, death, deep, introspection, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Third shift often referred to as the graveyard shift oh the company I keep through these hours covered by shadows.Souls to wander about at night the lost the lonely and then there are those who are guided by voices poured into the head
Stairwells don’t lie, streets don’t lie pain is real desperation has a fragrance aren’t we all gamblers.
Look just look at what you bow down to. The screams at night speak truth the lights that cover a street like a pallbearer at a funeral speak truth, what pours into you who’s voice are you listening to, Are you walking or are you just dead.
Categories:
stairwells, city, dark, deep,
Form: Free verse
Darling Angel, one whom never dwells
Thorn tipped roses laid in your way
Secrets held close whispering wind tells
Fearing the dark nay one soul will stay
Unabashing lies in your mind they say
Masked behind a face you've made in stone
Their words and actions on heartstrings play
Never shall you walk the path alone
Youth dawned doth tolls the bells
Left remembering how innocence did lay
How fast it ends like dying cells
High cost given and a debt to pay
Past conviction lost, had to betray
When the night falls and left a crone
Remembering color as now left is all gray
Never shall you walk the path alone
Forget not the time we spent on the fells
Watching the sun shine and birds all array
Just like spiriling down the winding stairwells
Wind kissed reeds in the morning sway
Holding dear memories, heavy on mind weigh
Replaying soft kisses love again shown
Holding tight to each other at the end of day
Never shall you walk the path alone
Darling Angel, I forever am your Jay
I love you dearly, right down to my bone
You need to hear me, listen to what I say
Never shall you walk this path alone.
Categories:
stairwells, appreciation, best friend, future,
Form: Ballade
The Fuehrer Life raises up its rigid hand
Demands following promises you chose
Its the best thing you could ask for,
the right to choose
Its what holds you back,
the fear to lose
to open the doors and create dreams come true
To fall away from the very essence that is you
Like moving into new clean drapes
Windows unfrosted by confusion
The person you were has no doorway
And the floors of your life were covered in sediment left by previous intruders,
The uninvited
All aware of your contract to this life
And the doorway locks to the top
unable to enter
unable to let go
We hold on to what we know
Stairwells of featured memories alas they contrive who we were
Who are you now?
The Fuehrer wants to know
-Jess
Categories:
stairwells, forgiveness, life, life,
Form: Free verse
It sparkles while you sleep, streaming ribbons through your breath,
Distilled so brightly, glaring lightly yet so neat.
Like acres covered in forest, it blankets your desires,
Barring great cold crystal arms in the form of façades.
A brilliant glitter haze sheds blinding smothered comfort,
As sketches turn to stairwells and seconds turn to years.
With a tossed set of keys, and a locket for a heart,
Wandering the crystal, sifting through the shine,
Patiently you wait, facing only time..
Categories:
stairwells, fantasy, visionary,
Form: Free verse