Monthly Archives: May 2014

Disposable

He framed only twelve lines, each syllable counted.
Precise.  Just exactly what he wanted to say.
The pain, carefully measured, evenly sounded.
Cold logic, rationale, all and none were betrayed:

“No one cares, none will notice, no one notices.
We all hide behind the thin veneer of caring,
But it’s all talk, the empty words everyone says.
Life, and driving, are all about ‘me first,’ daring

To be first, forgetting those who are left behind,
Who ask for help, and are given barely enough.
Work the hours at the jobs we are able to find.
I tried, failed, and found my life filled with useless stuff,

Broken, used, tatty things, no treasures.  Just like me.
Money answers everything, but it’s whispering.
When I need a hurricane, I get a soft breeze.
Because nothing, not even me, is worth repairing.”

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When Love is Sleeping

There are no perfect words to say to you,
No blessing, compliment, or sweet refrain,
If I could say it, it would not ring true,
As words are not enough, cannot explain.

Stronger than any fast-tempered alloy,
It grips tighter than love, possesses me,
My very soul is longing for your joy,
And wanting, at whatever costs may be.

Though I could die to purchase happiness,
I’d rather stay and rest in your delight,
The grave, infinite cold, but your caress,
Leaves me warmer than lit-fused dynamite.

So why, when I need you, is the door closed,
As if my presence, burdens should impose?

Safe Drivers and Traffic Accidents

My perfect, adored and adorable wife kissed me softly in steadfast ardor.
It’s been a perfectly adequate life, though I frequently wish for more.
And if passion, steady, can decline,
I could blame hers, but she could blame mine.
I fought the traffic and got in late, I reached for the door at the office’s entry.
My hand brushed another, hers acquiesced, mine imbued with chivalry,
And I held it open, “ladies first.”
Her full length skirt brushed by, my eyes, immersed,
In Springtime beauty: wood grain printed, slow turned gentle symmetry.
Her eyes noticed mine and I noticed hers, with mutual curiosity.
She must have seen my admiration,
Noticed reverent fear, sensed temptation.
I have been on life’s road in this direction, long enough I do not want to turn,
Says the conscience I’ve listened to for correction, my own spirit to discern.
I know the right things to do and think,
But my eyes never know when to blink.

Drip

My soul is ripped, broken, torn, shattered.
No rhyme or reason, as if it mattered.

The fear of failure overwhelms the fear to never try,
I sit alone now, watching life so slowly passing by,
I pray, but answers do not come with angels on the wing,
If hope and energy renewed, I could keep on trying.

But there’s no love to cast out fear or give hope back to me
The seconds tick as drips of blood, time killing me slowly

I touch and my touch damages, or speak, words take their toll
The youthful hope I knew has passed, and sadness fills the hole
As on the beach, the sand and water, tides, crushing the soul
Some have a purpose, seek, and find, press on to win their goal

Some ride waves, easy, find life’s treasures, like shells on the sand
I’ve never had a treasure not slip from my clutching hand
I find treasures that others hold, knowing joy just denied
If it weren’t a waste of tears, I might have grieved and cried.

The fear of failure overwhelms the fear to never try,
I sit alone now, watching life so slowly passing by,
I’d try again, if I knew I could win, find wings, and fly,
I’ve failed so much, I’m tired of that, so why bother to try?

My soul is ripped, broken, torn, shattered
No rhyme or reason, as if it mattered.

Love isn’t real, only the fear.  No dreams.  I am lonely.
The seconds tick as drips of blood, time killing me slowly.

Forbidden Fruit

Oh, I can see it! The fruit of the tree,
I know it’s death, but it looks good to me-
Just once, to taste it! To savor a bite!
I know the consequence, it isn’t right,
Why is it beautiful, and forbidden?
Why is it on display, and not hidden?

Oh, I can smell it, the fruit of the tree,
I know it’s wrong, but its perfume smells sweet.
Everyone else says the fruit tastes divine.
They seem all right. Why should I not have mine?
Do I hear whispering? “Come and take me!
What’s the harm in giving yourself a treat?”

Oh, now I touched it. That soft, tender peel,
No one would judge me but God. Is He real?
And if He is, He should forgive me, right?
Why is it called darkness? It looks like light.
Where is the point when it’s actually sin?
How close can I get without falling in?

Zea mays

I am part of a lovely and talented writers group that meets about once a month.  I’ll leave it to the reader to decide whether I’m one of the lovely ones, or one of the talented ones.  The assignment for this coming meeting was to write a poem or short story or article including the words:  Pop, corn, Change, Female, Alcohol, Time and Mortality.

Here, then, is my 5/6/14 Writers Group Assignment: I love it when this happens– I just noticed it’s May, and the scientific name is:

Zea mays
Corn is versatile, grow some more, please,
I like caramel, she likes cheese,
Hot for dusted peppers, salted butter?
Garlic, lime, set your heart all aflutter?

Change your mind?  Just pop some more.
Buttered on the cob, salted, score!
Corn can even be cooked into liquor,
(But they don’t usually serve that in bars),
Or wasted, to make gas for cars,

Gluten allergies?  There’s no need to run
If we grew enough we could feed everyone,
Let’s stop wasting time and food, making gas-ohol-ine
And instead, stamp out starvation’s mortality!

Each kernel is an ovary, with silken tail,
Who knew the flowers were male and female?
Are the boys blue corn, and the girls yellow and pink?
That might make the scientists think,
But I’ll just try some moonshine.  Pass the drink!