Poetry, thoughts

Strange Rituals

Strange rituals
The beaked mask
Is donned no longer
In its stead
Plexiglass and cloth
The same wall
Between sick and well

Will the hazmat suit
Instill the same terror
Centuries later
As the plague doctors of old?

Poetry

Change

There is never growth
Where the ground is not readied
Untilled soil
Is never ready for change

Descale the heart
Raw and afraid
Is the only way to listen
The only way to pray

Feel more than you think
The fear felt by others
Making your own heart race
Your feet in the same place

Poetry

Other Minds

I suppose we all have visions
That we carry to the dirt
High minded goals and creative urges
Most of which never come to be
Patents that are never filed
Books that won’t be written
Dreams that leave with the oxygen
From brain matter, in the end

Are the thoughts we have
Those which crossed other minds before?
The only difference being
We take the time to write them down
While the older mind wrote down others?

Poetry

Role Call

A tentacled masculine life
Of backyards and meat
Grass tidy and neat
You found yourself a wife

Is it all so toxic
If you found peace
In a role call
To feed and heat
Not for you
Yes for me

It just ain’t me babe
In this we’re not the same
Maybe the only life I’ll lead
Is of anonymity and femininity

Poetry

Paperish

Every now and then
I find a balance
Optimism that’s paper white
Not yellowed by time
Or wrinkled by tears
My mind inside a paper lamp
Lifted by a breeze
Carried by the wind
I don’t want to come down
From that glowing height

Poetry, Uncategorized

Forgetting

Forgetting
Is a drug
A crutch
And a curse

It serves its purpose
Remedies the past
A prescription painkiller
A memory marauder

This crutch steadies the brittle
Weaponizes the worn out
Welcomes the willing

But it is indiscriminate
Tosses out the baby with the bath water
What’s broken with what’s whole
Until it’s all a wash
And nothing is dirty or clean

Poetry

The Dark Turn

My art isn’t inspiring
I’ve tried that
It isn’t me

My hands shake
Most of the time
From negative thought

Do I write for catharsis?
Or is it wallowing?
Are those any different?

I try to stay positive
But my writing turns dark
Like an unwanted sunset
Though sunsets are often beautiful

Poetry

Breaker

I’m just as much a force of nature
As that oceanic blitz
Just as hit or miss

Sixty percent water and forty percent pain
The embodiment of the thunder and the rain

I’ll always be this way
A torrent and a grace
Obsessive and compulsive
But secure in my own space

I’ll always be the breaker
You’ll always be the shore
You need the calmest waters
I’ll always want much more

Poetry

There is Rarely Finality

Maybe there’s a wrong way to do this
And maybe there’s a right
So wrestles my mind
As you lick the honey from your lips
Sweet-mouthed and sugar-eyed

I’ll wonder from this point on
If you made the right choice
Between my voice
And the words of other boys

I never got finality
I see that’s the problem now
Left hanging like a severed branch
Thinking it may still grow

One good gust and it was over
Every new day brings us closer
To finally letting go

Poetry

Can’t Forget

I have no words
When I feel this way
Sadness and angst
From you and for you

My hands go numb
When I allow my heart
To take the journey back
Towards the start of this road

I can’t forget the finale
The unwinding of the story
A frayed and tattered end

I can’t forget the future
Threads divorced from tapestry
Allowed to weave again