The Golden Years

They sit in their electric chairs
like ignored marionettes
and if that switch did more than lift them gently to their feet,
it’d animate them more than they’ve been in the last 10 years
They’ve grown far beyond old;
their eyes, Dali’s clocks
drooping from their twiglike frames,
their old oak fingers, twisted and gnarled 
around their rubber stoppered third leg,
their proverbial leaky faucets dripping odes 
in the key of Chinese water torture…
They’ve lost their grip on life,
too tired and weak to clasp the hand of death
Every prayer is a plea.
Although they are slow and decrepit
they want something swift
that comes easy like dawn
but it’s long past dark
and it has been for sometime
still shuffling, unseeing
with their knobby, arthritic knuckles
full of pills, 
their silver crowns adroned with geriatric mange
their mortal masks, sliding
ever closer towards hell
mottled and be-moled crusty brown
Have you ever spent all the seeds from an apple,
cut it open 4 times and put it back together
and left it sitting out for 1,000 days?
Published in: on September 27, 2011 at 5:18 pm  Comments (2)  
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The Hearth in my Heart

Published in: on September 14, 2011 at 1:01 am  Leave a Comment  
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The kind of trouble

that comes from solitude

is the kind you should worry about most

and also the kind you can best control

Published in: on September 11, 2011 at 10:04 pm  Leave a Comment  
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Lack of Vision

Hell is what you see

when the rest of the world is blind

Let us not pretend

that we cannot see

and become silent liars

muted into cotillion manners

dowsed in plastic frill

and bound by bleached teeth handshakes

History is written when thinkers speak

visible truth goes streaking

shocking habitual deniers into sight

There is hope, yet,

of gradual human progress

without concealing,

open dialogue

without a script,

and building relations

without fumbling for a light switch

Published in: on September 11, 2011 at 9:03 pm  Leave a Comment  
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