knots in wrinkles
kinks in years,
creases holding
dried-up tears.
snags in laughter,
cracks in grin,
time folds outward,
memory folds in.
age in the folds,
memory in creases,
years tug tight on
what time releases.
memory in marrows
years cut into furrows
lines across hands
unwind the arrows.
creases in sheets
wrinkles in water
rings inside trees
encircle the slaughter.
weather on faces
time left in traces
leaves laces undone
to ace with graces.
rust in the hinges,
dust galore,
halls remember
feet on the floor.
dents on the pillow,
chill in the bed,
one side remembers
the weight of a head.
rings on fingers,
prints on the glass,
touch bears witness
long after we pass.
frost on temples,
salt in the hair,
seasons keep tally
of all that was there.
echoes in dreams,
dust on the sill,
silence grows louder
the longer it's still.
Puppet, dolly,toy
Stringed and tied marionette
I’m not part of this
Sanity is far from my reaches
Tremendously pondering on
About the California beaches
Before dusk and after dawn
I remember you loved me long ago
Last December of yesteryear, I was a prisoner of woe
How could you betray me so?
You know, I learned to let go
Hatred harmed me in ways I can’t quite fathom
Hope healed me for days and no longer so numb
Stuck here alone though…and so it goes
On my own kind of vibes and glows
So, it goes
The feelings grow and my true colors show
Who knows…
Where the wicked wind will blow to and fro
I know I’m stuck here momentarily…
This lifetime is temporary thankfully
I’m aware that I’m dying alive tonight…
Let’s fight with our might for peaceful sunrises — boy, what a sight
Stuck in the back.
Between two foes,
constantly picking on me.
They take my toys
and annoy me
with their feet.
They burp and fart.
They make it smell.
Will I survive the drive?
I will not yell.
I will not fight.
Or Mom may
turn around.
My goal's in sight.
I see the signs.
Soon we will arrive.
I hope this trip
was worth the pain
of riding with my brothers.
How fast can I fall?
I have been stuck in limbo.
How hard will I land?
S imply stated
T his life's complicated
U ncertainties abound
C aught in volatility
K nowing not what's next
You're in my head now
You are all I think about
Please don't let me leave
Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack
There is no corner to get stuck.
You may pause to get a snack,
But again you hear the Tick,
Soon followed by the Tack —
Like Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack.
Money clinks to this rhythm,
Bodies wet and dry.
Faces smile and wrinkle,
Tears drop and dry
By Ticks and Tacks.
Pain comes and goes.
Trees dry and rain falls.
Wings cease to flap while
Realities turn to distant memories.
Like Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack
Children become parents,
Parents become kids,
And hearts stop their beat.
Days and nights run back to back.
The rhythm turns them to weeks, months, and years,
Steadily turning our ages to gold —
Like Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack, Tick-Tack.
It’s a simple and ordinary day,
There’s no reason to wish it a brighter way.
A fake smile and gestures I relay—
There’s no positive; just be okay.
There’s a shift, subtle yet hard to define,
He’s simple, but something in him shines.
A blank face, rarely offering a smile,
Yet somehow, he gives my heart a butterfly.
He’s one of the reasons I can’t explain,
The cause of a heartbeat that won’t remain plain.
His smile—rare, like the full moon’s light,
His steps make my world feel right.
Almost three years, still stuck in the line,
He’s far ahead, not quite mine.
Not in the middle, not even a part—
I hope, if it’s possible, there’s still a start.
I walked through a cobweb today
several hours ago yet she has not released me yet
she is sticky and strong
determined to keep me
I await a fly’s fate
wondering at the girth of her spider
anticipation is a killer
Before helping one who appears
Stuck in the mud,
Stop and think a minute.
Make sure he’s really mired
And wants your help,
And not just wallowing in it.
You feel like abstract art
Like a bed sheet waiting on a summers breeze
Like honey on my teeth
You stick to me, sickly sweet
Like a silent conductor
You write out all my mistakes
I dont have to perform
Hoping this time it takes
You say im stuck, sickly sweet
Like the gum underneath my feet
Like words that dry up beneath my tongue
Like shoes on wet sand
I can't speak or run
And my skin is on fire
I'm losing sound
I'm still shaking on solid ground
But I choose to stay
I never wish to depart
Because to me it feels like abstract art
Monday morning blues, the hues from the rusted lantern sprinkle on the walls.
A shadow sways swiftly through the open door, into the halls.
The night prior, a monster filled the spaces in your head.
You seem to be a stain on the sheets, spilled ink upon the bed.
A heartbeat seems to be the only sound you can hear.
Well, my sweet angel… this is it — you’re in fear.
Past tense spoke it was you because it knew
future tense will say surely you until
daylight disappears into the sunset,
where melodies of starlit angels flew
with every note of joy from Poet’s quill,
forever two in heaven’s own duet.
Present tense says we are in a struggle
to find that which makes the two of us trill
in harmonic peace with celestial view,
perhaps with freedom from mortal trouble,
but real life needs working through .
.
dark
spread
fat
*mine saxist fellowz
know mine think
,}
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