ICU

I see you
You show me pictures of how you used to be
And I don’t care
I don’t care that you’ve changed because I’m here with you now
And still, I love you
I, too, look back and long for the me
Before the damage
I understand.
But I can’t stay there
And neither should you

I look at pictures
to remind me how good I’ve had it
And how I can make new ones to joyfully reflect on
As the arbiter of my life
I have sought and carried out
disseminating seeds of joy
For future me,
Who should love memory
Without bitterness

Do we not know that things wear and break?
And someday everything will have once been better?
When you lose control of what is happening to you
Gain it in another area
The person you were is still buried below your altered surface
And you don’t need a picture
to show me who you were
I see you

Advertisements
Published in: on January 25, 2019 at 2:15 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , , , , ,

I am a paler blue than you are used to

I am a paler blue than you are used to
I am milk from the breast
The blind man’s eye
The morning sky
 
 
I am a paler pink and it’s not like you think
I am the dead man’s skin
The winter cheek
Wheezing life, oblique
 
 
I am twisted spine wrapped in barbed wire and twine
The clink on dinner glass
The old barn in the wind
Weakened, thin
 
I’m a softer gray than I was yesterday
I am the abandoned school’s window
The late autumn fog
The belly-up pollywog
 
 
Trapped beneath ice
I am a horrid last gasp
The precipice teetering boulder
The secret the dying man told her
 
 
I am all that fizzles
The last millimeter of wick
I am the faint sound of haunting
That is actually nothing blowing in the wind
 
 
I am the last straw the cow devours
In a land of famine
Digested four times before
The final feast is never more
 
 
I am the fraying shroud
on the cold slab
the scratching dry quill
the unfinished words of the will
 
 
I am the ruins
behind the undergrowth
I am the ship on the ocean floor
a splinter on death’s door
 
 
I am a palor of green
A mold on the cheese
I am the child that floats
the hanged man’s throat
 
 
I am a gutter of leaves
after four months of rain
I am slime
I block the drain
 
 
I am ash on a bonnet
the clay on work boots
I am the broken ax
the recipient of forty whacks
 
 
I am all that decays
I am all that stops shining
I am all of the hues
of adieu
Published in: on October 9, 2013 at 2:00 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

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)  
Tags: ,

Geriatress

my grizzly bones
bound in this thick pulp
lumbering, laboring through this mill
grinding, shaving down
paper thin
remold, reshape me
into something useful
I am no sequoia
reconstituted
but a disposable particle, bored
reincarnated, someday
to something useful
my timber gone
a missing tooth in groves, green
my grizzly bones
bound in this pulp
bound in bark
withered
disintegrating
pecked
my canopy, sun-baked
dry
leafless
and ready for the first cut
Published in: on May 24, 2011 at 10:38 pm  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

Unaffected Fool

The feminine winter

it’s skin, tissue paper

legs unshaven

The masculine winter,

with his even stride

believes he can reconstitute her

Published in: on February 7, 2010 at 4:03 pm  Comments (1)  
Tags: , ,

Let the ol’ Bastard be lost

The tracks in the snow

are so obviously

those of a old man drunk on scotch

I can see the trail,

a staggered meter

of one-two, one nununun-two,

his decrepit left hip

hoisting the burden

onto the right

and a rift between he

and an old friend

sent him into the sleet and wind

Now we’re tracking him.

Published in: on January 5, 2010 at 1:35 am  Comments (1)  
Tags: , ,

Good morning, Dark Stalker

I know a couple
lived so long
long enough to know
 
.
as all the parts
start to fail
that soon it’s time to go
 
.
I can’t imagine their living
with a reaper
stalking their every step
 
.
waiting for their pump
to quit
or the draw of their last breath
 
.
How it leans in intuitively as they hack
hoping to drag them into the black
 
.
The reaper sits in a corner chair while they sleep
when the snores grow silent, nearer it creeps
 
 
.
It peeks as they shower,(do not slip)
soon to be his if they break even a hip
 
.
Oh, the young,
they don’t know
how long they will be
 
.
Hell, a reaper
could certainly
be stalking me
 
.
Those octogenarians,
poor dears,
he follows them everyday
.
It must be haunting,
CHILLING to be
at the ripe end of decay
Published in: on September 17, 2009 at 1:35 am  Comments (4)  
Tags: , , ,

Purging and Regret

Like many, over years I had collected things
bright and shiny, interesting,
some bits obtained on a whim,
items were inherited, or simply given
or perhaps were with me from the start
…until I fell apart
 
At some point in my discovery
of who I am, of my history
the good, the bad, the worst, the best
I stood back and surveyed the mess
And in paring down the the sizely heap
discarded what I ought to keep
 
Childhood memories were first
for those were best, I left the cursed
in the heap to dwell upon
for these were where lessons were born
Next I gave up hope because
It always collected static fuzz
   
Oh, how the clearing made me feel clarity
stripping down to the ‘barren me’.
a representation of what I thought I’d need
ready on the shelf for the very next deed:
my broken heart, aching soul, paranoia, distrust
pain, poetry, indecisiveness, and dust
 
Those comforting threads and trophies of mine
distinguished who I was at that time
flash forward to now, so plainly I see
what more I’ve discarded and kept within me
But daily I lose things I wish I had kept
I’m confused, my failing memory leaves me bereft
 
As I wander through thistles and brambles and weeds
Searching for remnants of the former ‘me’
I stumble upon one of my discarded trinkets
Knowing I know it, but just can’t rethink it
The familiar sight would bring back memories for most,
I’m defeated by shock in the undergrowth.
 

Inspired!

Inspired!

Published in: on March 3, 2009 at 12:26 am  Comments (2)  
Tags: , , ,

Your wishes, granted

let me
whet
your mind
with wonders of
what can be
and then, like a bright star
make these dreams, this telepathy
come real
a pulsing idea
that quickens
and with all the fruition
you can handle
exploding
overflowing
until your eyes, your mind
blind and swelling
have dropped from your consciousness
into the pan that I keep
under the bed
a collection
of spent dreams
to sift through
one day
when I am old,
dry, and have quit shining

Published in: on December 6, 2008 at 12:08 am  Comments (4)  
Tags: , ,

Rings

Tall and slumped like a tree,

My rings are like a diary

The chapter of my history

To document the memories

 

Harsh winters cold has come and gone

The thaw of spring, warm summer’s dawn

And time still hikes eternally on…

 

I stand in the company of many, who, like me

Have rings.

Published in: on September 16, 2004 at 2:54 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , ,

Maturity

Don’t go
Don’t grow
Don’t tell me secrets only I know
 
Don’t shout
Don’t show
It gets harder to feel and we just get further away
 
I give you a gift. I can’t take it away
You can’t hold it. You feel it
It gets in your way
 
When you remember, it’ll be there
And our distance will seem
More like a parallel care
 
So the cycle, it spins
And I took out a piece
Nothing has changed
But it feels so much better
And I want a hug that
Says you know
 
I won’t turn from the look that shows
You’ve grown
 
But stay close
Disclose
Or don’t, don’t, don’t
You know I love you
Published in: on March 15, 2003 at 2:41 am  Leave a Comment  
Tags: , , ,
%d bloggers like this: