I have feelings like: bursts of not being lonely.
But mostly lonely.
Zaps me.
And I’m covered up in a tarp, almost.
Withering.
I have shivers like using my teeth to tear old cobwebs.
Horrible.
But my strong eyes lasted this long.
My “worn out” is shuttering.
I do have feelings of not being lonely, sometimes.
But mostly that strong, tattered, withering, strange feeling.
I toss the lonely into the dumpster.
My blank stare takes me home.
I have strawberry hope and dandelion love.
Sand, whimsy, and other bouncing stuff.
Drooping, sagging, begrudging down my long sleeve shirt.
This smile doesn’t work anymore.
Patience.
Except, she threw a tarp over me.
This smile is like an ant clamoring.
Or faceless scarf around me.
This smile doesn’t affect the grass growing too tall.
It’s easy to offer help to someone who fell into a puddle.
Inside my face.
Is a larger skeleton as radioactive dust.
This smile doesn’t work anymore.
Like sandpaper to a seashell.
Looks at me sailing toward the first planet I can find.
Starlit moments on the heart
lost in space across all time and essence
Planets turn, stars shine
and the quietude of space,
resembles my own beating heart...
Blue sapphire dreams violet wishes,
beneath the tarp of heaven
Inside the milky way the light of the breath
softly blowing,
like dessert winds, on a wild summer day...
Soaring higher then the eagles,
flying straight into the galaxy
I hear the resounding echoes of silence
and I smile, for here in this wonderful haven,
only the angels seem to exist !
Piano keys and red red wine, I sip slowly,
the April moments of a lifetime,
and when December comes
I will float across the Universe as if I were
a beautiful snowflake,
falling falling falling
into His love and grace.
Silence kisses me and suddenly,
I am more than the sum of all my years
less then the stars and moon.
I sit and wait, into the ether of my being
love grows and flows into my veins,
no one knows, ...but me.
There’s a faded blue tarp
On an old pile of wood
For a fireplace no longer used.
Though my hearing’s not sharp,
I thought maybe I could
Hear a strange sound that got me confused.
So I opened the door,
Seeing if I could find
If a creature was making that scritch
And before I looked more,
There to pay me no mind,
Was a squirrel, his jaws all a’twitch.
He was ripping at holes
In the tarp that he’d made
And from out of his mouth dangled blue.
Seemed that one of his goals,
If attention was paid,
Was a nest of that very same hue.
Now I’m searching the trees,
Gazing up through the leaves,
Trying hard to discover that nest.
So if anyone sees
Something that he perceives
As bizarre, he can let his mind rest.
Tympani, beat tremendous!
Like thunder roll above!
Dark matter a-tenebrous;
Knowest thou of love?
Ah, young master. In good time!
Riddles, rivers, rhyme!
Griddle, fiddle, sugar, slime.
Covert cold cut chime.
All right, sir, but in earnest;
Full, brass bull, trull, wool?
Summertime, hot clime, addressed!
Roundabout red rule!
Well, it's you two! Black and Blue!
So, what else is new?
Eggs a-light, serpents a-few?
Kittens blind that mew?
Knights of the nebula pond!
Elders strong and wise...
Mighty warlocks, wave thy wand!
Prize? Between the eyes.
Adepts of tomorrow!
Always? Skies and greys.
Surcease, students, all sorrow.
Living for todays!
Miles are marked for travelers?
Yes, and reason thus:
Reality whirs, then blurs.
Black and Blunderbuss.
Rain, pour poems on prophets.
Nerves heal as they warp.
O floodwaters, try Tophet's.
Sailors, tamp the tarp...
And writers their disguise
Some traitorous tirade of tongeu twits torrentially
pouring their page on their hearts
Some surprise
I am the largest collection of leaves
Be leaf me
Wither the spoon
Killed with a knife’s
Thrust never gave me the push
What if gravity decided to let go
Some would twist like thinnest thread in tendrils of
terror
Pity seldom used
Justice lies beneath a tarp slowly gathering dust
Hope has changed to less
Love no longer shared
Heroes stopped their fight
Where are you when I am in need?
Where were you as you walked past me?
Scraps of food from trash cans I partake.
The wind blows through as the cold penetrates.
As I shiver on the steps of an abandoned Inn.
I cover up in a tarp, so tired, I can never win.
I am never safe on the streets of the night.
The rustling noise suddenly made me frightened.
The noise fades away, leaving me alone.
The weather changes as it begins to snow.
I could not stay warm as the wind started to blow.
I sat up, grabbed my matches, and lit one, watching it glow.
Shivering, I huddled close to the match's meager heat.
As the night wore on, she felt her fingers and toes freeze.
The weather increased as she ran out of the last match to light.
The next day, the child was found frozen during the cold night.
Compassion Fatigue
Resentment looks a lot like Narcan in a sharp
and feels like it’s forcing out my will.
I grab them both; Naloxone and the tarp,
the outcome undetermined by my skill.
Same guy, same place, same drug; third time today,
his unresponsive body cold to touch.
Compassion has fatigued and crawled away,
when I see something tiny in his clutch;
A crucifix, a cross is glinting gold.
Immediate withdrawal floods through his veins;
I’ve plunged the needle, and I tightly hold;
his bloodied eyes snap alive with pain
despite the death wish of his toxic dope,
a Savior finds him worthy of His hope.
A faded tarp, hiding such a multitude of sins
Actually a weathered hulk, with broken shattered limbs
Forgotten craft beached up high, safe from the rising tides
By wind and weather every day beset on every side
Skies grow dark and thunder cracks, the canvas tears away
Spreads its faded wings and flies, far out across the bay
Exulting in another life, another chance to be
A flag, a tent, a sail and more, just wanting to be free
The wind abates, the canvas falls back onto solid ground
And now it waits with bated breath just hoping to be found
Perhaps a child, or fisherman will find it on the shore
Some loving care, a wash, some paint - it will be blank no more
Art of the heart
Heavenly true blue
A neon Noah's Ark
Of love letters to you
Saving in part
Holy heart from doom
Or drowning in the dark
Missing the warmth of June
Starving Amethyst Artist
With much soul food
Life of the party
Satin smile soft cool
Tender turquoise tarp
Housing lavender love
Sculpting in the dark
Indigo intimacy from above.
Your kiss is a love letter to my heart
In bliss receiving with open arms
The purple pen you use rights all wrongs
Connecting me to you in a soulful song
Why is it we struggle within love
Embraces double like winged dove
We find a feud to be a tarp
In an hour or two making love like art
If we can find us over vanity
See green four leaf clover of sanity
Rainbow brushes beneath the waist
Passion gushes like water from lake
Not defined by lowest denomination
Black love in prime a tribal celebration.
11/24/23 Kandle Karen Jones
My first sleepover
was when I was about eight:
tenting, with a friend.
Our tent wasn't store-bought:
just a tarp thrown over some
stacked-up bales of straw.
We lived on a farm:
did I mention that before
or did I skip that?
Anyway, we did.
And that's how we went tenting:
when I was a boy.
We'd got our tent set:
when it started raining hard:
we were getting soaked.
My friend's mom found us,
and rushed us into the barn:
all muddy and wet.
She told us straight off:
we'd have to sleep in the barn:
so, I ended up
sleeping in a stall.
I still smile when I recall
that experience.
Verse
wiped angst
from life's tarp
Erased all Grief
And gave them a long furlough of absence
Written: February 12, 2022
tarp test tapestry of blue
a curtain of nature's hue
hanging over the environment true
as I inhale and exhale the breath given to me
the air I breathe created by God that I do not see
inherit verse the clouds burst
as the rain falls on and around me
is the wet dawn moves on
flame on vapors hues
clouds roll by
angels shed tears raining here
birds in mid-flight dread
while over my head
airs the tarp so true
9/1/21
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr © 2021
Like thunder scolds
the big trucks roll
eighteen wheelers rumbling
turning, rounded tumblings
static cling above the blacktop sounds;
each load heavy and unmarked
catastrophic diesel sparks,
rhythm pounds loud along the tarp,
tractor trailers clapping along the ground
from the midwest highways bound
slipping thru the backroad byways,
juggernaut bartering the tolls on a skyway
four wheelers piggyback tows
convoy escorts ever on the go;
beating down the macadam and concrete
trucking down the inner streets
transportation, what a feat.
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