You love me,
but somewhere along the way,
I couldn’t keep up, couldn’t stay,
your words stopped meaning what they once did,
and I felt lost in what we hid.
You gave me all, I couldn’t give back,
I thought I was ready, but I lost track.
I tried to make it work, tried to find the key,
but the truth was clear it wasn’t meant to be.
And though I wanted it to work,
we didn’t plan, we didn’t see,
I loved you, but I couldn’t stay,
so I had to turn away.
I loved you.
Tightening our grip
we enter life unready
to conquer it's feats
The ancient four legged poem
had been premeditatedly cut loose
and now it haunts
the unready, frail and ailing poet.
It barks abruptly from underneath the lush hortensia bushes
shocking the blue light of an unready poet observations,
casting impetus over the faux peace,
rolling around aimlessly.
An apple of discord, fallen
from the mischievous bosom
of a spirited muse.
In the midst of the night mist
A lone blackbird sat
Considering his options
Knowing he had choices
To bring death or silence
Or silent death
Unready to decide, he sat quietly
Surrounded by swirls of confusion and fear
Loving the consternation his presence brought
Listening to the howl of a lone wolf in the night
it’s an endless void of emptiness
in a starkness filled with play
it’s a synonym of every dream
in an antonym yet to try
it’s a darkened apron of inkiness
in a sparkling bejewelled sea
it’s a long in-tangent monologue
in a verse-laden melody
it’s the flailing arms of solitude
in a crowded room of song
it’s a screaming siren tempest queen
in the court of an unready king
it’s high above what I can hold
in the grass I lay my head
it’s a dry old gaze as I’m looking up
in the forming dew before bed
Keyhole dreams floated out into the world
Butterfly wings, powdered sugar, dots of monarchs
Faerie magic might have brought this on
Even the fey were not certain how it happened
The world was unready, confused, consternated.
Keyhole sent out the colors orange yellow and pink.
Reminds me of the sixties, someone said
You are starting to get there, replied another.
Peace signs and tulips arrived in hot air balloons
Unicorns and faeries floated out into the ether
Cinnamon and sugar arrived on rolled out crust
Keyhole dreams floated out into the world
now that things will end
I realise I’m not ready
to do anything
Butter the toast, butter knife, bread.
blue plate, no sunlight, short-sighted blue night,
electric rings of silence.
Breakfast is slow,
not that hungry but there is honey
and I am lonesome in a tired body.
Soon, hands will press the tabletop,
will rise up, push up to lace-up walking shoes,
enter the coming light
that unsteady, unready light
with its slippery yo-yo gleams,
enter it all; the concrete hills,
the leaf and branch, the cast-up legs
of the still twitching,
the buoyant tumbling of the living,
the pumped-up throats
of the starry-eyed singers,
enter it fully, growing less unlikely,
enter myself as an unrepentant prodigal son
returning home.
A man reached me at the market that day.
He lifted two handcrafted seats on his head.
He urged, "Won't you buy my chairs?" Today.
Nobody took my chairs. All moved instead.
I recall helping others with daily duties in life.
If you find a poor partner, avail him in strife.
None are so flush that they might not borrow.
The fate of the poor may be our lot tomorrow.
Look, these are the best things I have made.
Please buy my seats. I slum my children frayed.
He seems gloomy. This person is my age.
Words nag me. I gave him cash and change.
I echo helping others, even when being mean.
Do not judge your pal's deep suspicions, lean.
No fine, people can avoid shame or misery.
Lift others in the race for a swathe of glittery.
I replied, "I need one seat, but sell the rest."
Kids are waiting, and I wish you all the best.
Thrusting his hands to pray, I was unready.
For me, it was an incomer with tears already.
I never lost the venting of the chair salesman.
It may not be a lot to exalt others when we can.
If it turns on a brother, do not let envy ruin it.
We pray for each other's rightness, joy, and grit.
Written: November 28, 2022
The day I had pushed away and buried
Hidden away in the depths internally, I couldn’t hide that
I wish you were for eternity
Inevitable, and unforgiving
A swollen heart unready to let go
Life had said too soon that
Your last breath was overdue
I had watched you slip through my hands as
The ocean mourned through my eyes, death to withstand
Frailty soon to be over lament, crushed entirety
Where am I to find you, you cease to exist entirely
To think about the day, you hadn't had a choice to speak
Death of life, I am incapacitated by grief
For I can not surrender
there is a party underwater
nobody is really celebrating
i swim amidst the decay
very soon i will be a member
there is a party underwater
the mold is so overwhelming
i swim amidst the apparent danger
very soon i will be a perfect match
there is a party underwater
many unready poems from broken spirits
i swim amidst the toxic stench of creepy cold regret
very soon i will add my similarly unread collection
The bones are loud and heavy
they don't like exercise anymore.
The treadmill chugs along
while vertigo topples unready toes.
Nothing can push these bones along,
time has filled them with concrete,
the rubble of marathons once run.
A young woman sprinting effortlessly
beside me smirks my way
as I stumble through a flat-footed mile.
Maybe she cannot see her future yet
while mine is clearly
painted on a wall I will soon hit.
during elections,polla colla is sprayed
people abstains from voting or
cast vote to all of the above
like putin war machine
phantoms defeated in failed state
during elections, polla colla is sprayed
people abstains from voting or
cast vote to none of the above
like putin war machine
phantoms defeated in failed state
during elections, polla colla is sprayed
people abstains from voting or
cast vote in vote unready dead machine
like putin war machine
phantoms defeated in failed state
They create a terrible monster of him
So that they can easily destroy him
Dangerous is termed the word from him
Because it pierces deeply from him
Annoying the unready listening to him
So they never can withstand him
And they choose not to know him
Because they are not sure of him
Unchanging every time you hear him
Alas, those days are gone! So long Argentina!
Deprived by vaccine law! Must do or be fool-dead!
Viral fear so rapid, the gene-techs’ in fast rev
Ending the long debate, big pharm governs mandates!
No talk of tried and true, gene-play is in fashion
Though it has been decades, with research showing naught
Usurping panic won, in careful thought’s adieu
RNA induction, into cells muscular
Everyone producing, proteins of a microbe!
Spike me with this logic, for I’ll become hostess
Stranger no more to me, I make the antigens!
Of nucleic acid shots, none are like polio…
Now the scientific fad’s gene manipulation
Even in infant phase, unready for the stage!
(12/21/2021: Meridian 342 Bethel Island)
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