I feel my heart
Shattered beneath my skin
My arms aching, calling out for you...
Who..?
Here I lie, shattered
crying out for sweet release
Or sweet embrace...
A guide or a lover
whomever matches the pace...
Of the raging fire in my heart
That burns for no one
Yet burns just the same
Not caring to spare my soft soul from it's pain.
Soft like cotton...
Not strong enough to shield
Not strong enough to steel my mind,
pick up and grind...
Like tomorrow is all that matters
even when all my yesterdays have left me in tatters...
Moving through every today as a ghost
Unaware, unrecognizable, unbeknownst...
Making it known in the twilight zone,
an unknown, error-prone player reached a milestone
using follicle stimulating hormone
to produce a phytohormone clone of Alicia Silvestone
honed from a fully grown breastbone and stray histones.
Above the wind blown ozone- a moss-grown millstone
the well known capstone of a milestone not foreknown.
Better known was Paula Poundstone
for taking growth hormone when fully grown
who could hold her own against the overblown overtone-
of reggaeton,
to win a starring role in Philosopher’s Stone,
You may think this poem is overblown
An alphabet kaliedophone.
A mining of words that are super unknown
And bemoan its pretentious overtone.
A poem that’s nothing but shadow and stone
Contrived to tickle your funny bone.
i watch this kid write a simple poem today
just two days ago he was in a coma of a mysterious sort
here he is now laughing like nothing ever happened
his little heart is on green light now
concern has a wire hanger in the closet
i watch this little kid fly a kite on a windy, but moderately warm day today
just three days ago she had IVs like indecisive mazes unaware of movement or position
here she is now running carelessly with warm blood flowing freely
here little heart is on green light now
worry has a hook of immediacy in the mudroom
Cherish How Good You Have It.....
Sitting alone in silence, at midnight hour
I write thoughts in the bright of a candles glow
Unbeknownst what the future holds, I cower
Cringing, shrinking like the flame that's burning low
Is there reason to this madness, sadness...our
Oh lord, Please tell me, for why? I need to know
Has Satan gifted us this covid weather
Or, is it you lord, bringing us together
I was looking
for meaning
in my life
the looking
became
the meaning
in my voyage
I came upon little things
of interest
these little things
became the meaning
along the way
I appreciate
little things
along the way
move on
and
I keep on looking
the looking
becomes
the meaning
Unbeknownst To Me
Unbeknownst to me
He thought that reality
Was not meant to be.
I float
above it all
my eyes closed
my heart wide open
fingers crossed
breathing slow.
Calmly I try not to
get immersed in you.
your aura surrounds me
just like purfume
and it's far too personal
for me at least.
I'd give anything for
this urge to cease.
It's calling to me
and even the bees
can sense your honey
they flock to you like
congress men to money.
I even tried plugging up my noes
and standing on my tippy toes
so that I wouldn't fall unbeknownst.
But you, look what you do to me.
I counted to ten and damn it all till
infinity. Can't you see what loving
you does to me?
O what forgotten providence,
to which my soul falls victim
on and off and on again,
indecision marking each page
with dog eared brutality.
Know not, want not, we
could never truly return
a moment as inconsequential
as that which marks. . .
Providential Dreams whose ends
are more mutably cataclysmic
than their begins.
Can only be born of indecisive
wonderlust,
Impendent scenes are nothing but
Providential Dreams
As providential dreams are nothing
But necessity.
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