Spent Manic Blossoms

The few, short hours that we get
To sit upon the dying grass,
The days of sunlight soon to fade,
As they, like we, are born to pass –

Habitual endearing of
Those close enough to plunder —
And this, we’ve come to glorify;
It sort of makes you wonder

A song this morning played, a song
Of love that just went wrong;
It had a beat, we danced to it,
It didn’t last that long

Then guided by our appetites
We craved the beat unceasing –
And bought what wasn’t anyone’s
For having or for leasing

It’s only life. It’s only art.
It’s only six A.M. —
The sun is shaking off its sleep,
It’s soon to rise again –

I think the sun’s benign, another
Elementary blunder;
In days that butcher who they can –
It sort of makes you wonder

The girl that’s looking straight at me
Is only eight years old;
She knows no trepidation, she
Is wild as she is bold

How can the aging father say
The young should wary be?
I turn to go about my day,
And trust posterity

Will lead her to a world of light
The world she sees before her;
I won’t pour water on her soul,
Not badger, nor ignore her

Perhaps, she is a healer, not
One made to mar or plunder —
What she could be, we should have been,
It sort of makes you wonder

Behold, the living narrative
Is spun before our eyes;
It’s there to tell us how to live,
What we should hate, or prize –

But every kind of shadow blocks
Some other kind of light;
And wear whatever mask you will
It’s coming off tonight

Insanity and vanity,
They’re our one legacy;
As we will follow slavishly
Our prized un-parity –

It kind of makes you wonder;
Then again, it just may not —
The few, short hours that we get
To sit until
We rot

I Wandered Into Poetry

I wandered into poetry
Since little else made sense;
For all the clots and retinues
Grew steadily more dense –

But here, in this reality,
I’ve found it to be true
That where ourĀ finest speech does naught,
The slightest touch
Might do
 


 

(“I Wandered Into Poetry” – 7-17-2015)

Beautiful, Sad

i see it as i wander by…

the world is beautiful and sad,

i see it as i wander by;

the good things that we want – so bad –

our reason – just an alibi –

 

the aching heart will know no peace;

the tired soul will find no rest —

the world is beautiful, but sad:

our worst is so mixed up in

all our best

A Litany of Slightest Madness

I have no idea what I just wrote…

I’ve always seen what isn’t there,
And so, I’m under doctor’s care;
For through my window eyes I see
Far, far beyond reality

I see the workings of your heart,
How love leaks out in midnight drips;
And how you’d hide it, if you could –
But will and tongue have frequent slips

I’ve felt you kiss me in the night,
In circles all around my face;
But yet, we have not spoken yet,
I guess you need your breathing space

But yet I see the world set free,
And through stone portals, one lone tree,
A sky of blue, a field of green,
And no more bullies. No one mean.

The doctor says I’m very bright,
Her thoughts will be with me tonight;
I view them when she’s not around
You won’t believe what all I’ve found

Her fantasies are very great,
And sometimes, inappropriate;
She also sees what isn’t there,
So maybe my gift’s not so rare —

But you, blog reader, don’t you know
We all have been afflicted so?
We’re mental patients, all of us,
Who blog for therapy. Discuss.

But still, I see inside your head,
Where you would rather be, instead
Of glimpsing what now you full see:
My steadfast, bald insanity

But maybe that’s not there, as well.
With crazy folks, it’s hard to tell:
Tonight, what isn’t there I’ll see,
And aren’t you just a bit
Like me?


 

(“A Litany of Slightest Madness” – 8-7-2015)

Beguiling Anonymity

I’m guessing a lot of people have felt this way.

Have you ever been afraid
to meet somebody in person
for fear of what they’d think
if they ever actually met you?

Maybe it’s your appearance
Or the sound of your voice
Or some special mannerisms
That are the focus of your fear

The belief that we will not be liked
Does two things, usually:
Inspires even more doubt and fear in us, or
Turns us cruelly indifferent

If you are one of those who doubt and fear,
You may feel a desire to hide from the world
To remain anonymous, or to
Pretend you are someone other than you are

But you must be yourself

For the only love you can truly feel, or know

Is love of truly-you