Poetry


 

 

My mind goes wild and has so for decades. Posts here, however, are no older than 2013.

self-portrait - Copy (2).jpg

Introspection

 

Every few decades

In silent comfort,

I ask,

Who am I?

The response is like

Gunfire in a canyon.

Birds scatter, dogs howl

And a rescue team

Scrambles for answers

Until the search is called off.

 

Stolen Dimes

 

My jumbled thoughts inside

A runaway Mack truck

Plowing through a spent corn field

Just East of my childhood

And that damn soda machine

At the gas station

That stole my dimes

For the promise of a cold bite

Of a Coke

On endless hot days

Without school, a job

Or sense of purpose.

I close my eyes to the ping

Of hot metal.

 

    Nothing on TV

We stumble upon the graves

Of those who spoke up

When we wouldn’t

Listen.

Their words

Of justice

Fell silently

In this terrible forest

Of complacency,

Of convenience,

Of nothing on TV.

 

The Cats

 

Waiting

For her son

To come home

She said

Have the cats been fed.

Have the cats been fed?

No, they’re dead,

Have the cats been fed

Was in her head,

Have the cats

Been fed

Is all she said

Now that

Her son was

Dead.

_______________________

The Stench of an Unpublished Novel

 

The door opens to the stench

Of an unpublished novel,

Crumpled papers, scattered like tumbleweed,

Roll across the wood floor

Until they rest against

A barbed wire wall.

He raises his head from the desk and

Wails like a wolf hungry for prey.

—————————————–

5150

 

Out on the highway

A 5150 screams

Something about Jesus.

In a field a boy

Chases fast moving clouds

Pulling an army of shadows

Silently across hills,

Gently onto cars.

Imprisoned drivers

On cell phones,

Inconvenienced

Watch the boy,

Arms out like wings,

Drifting

To a flashing red light,

Officer hand cuffing,

5150 snarling

Boy fleeing

Arms down until there is nothing

But the distant bark of a dog

And the scent of a spent cornfield.

___________________________

The Victim

In the end

He lied in bed,

Victim

Of his own excuses.

___________________________

Shadow of the Butterfly

 

Oh, brave warrior of delicate means,

Dodging unseen obstacles

In a moment

Always to be,

The shadow of a butterfly

Coming to me.

 

Together you are so much more

Than the singular beauty I first saw.

My eyes cannot leave you

In this moment

Always to be

The shadow of a butterfly

Comes to me.

 

But alone you cannot exist

With your menacing form

That makes me look away

In this moment

Always to be

The shadow of a butterfly.

_________________________________________________

Free Lunch

 

I want the free lunch

No strings attached

Sirloin steak with all the fat

Leave the explanations for somebody’s cat

I want the free lunch

No strings attached.

_____________________

Mystery About Me

I am a mystery

In search of a clue

About who I am

And why

I do

What

I do.

_______________

 

How to Remember Me

 

I want to be

That last explosion at a fireworks show,

Leaning over the horizon

Glowing brightly

Floating gently

To the ground.

Look for me

If you want,

But I’ll be

Burned

Up.

 

 

 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s