Month: January 2021

Haunting the hushed night
Hallucinations of swirls
Insomniac drain

Motorcycle revs
Imaginary owl hoots
Insomniac strain

Shadows swelling in
Merging with the popping swirls
Insomniac pain

Countless words passing
Of thoughts never heard again
Insomniac brain

Will the world quiet?
Will nothing be heard somewhen?
Insomniac dream

I wish to recognize a world
Of three generations prior
Behold willed ignorance
prefacing
the beginning of the end

And what defines a generation?
Tragedy—around which we organize
Well, cheers to progress!
Emerging problems and modern answers
Cycles of collateral damage
We’re dying to overcome

Because when the smog clears
I am a great grandmother
Glimpsing the Tatra peaks from Krakow
And swans parading Italian canals
Intoxicated by a fickle hope

That momentary reprieve
As we advance our chaos
Sheltered away—always drifting
Further, then hurtling
Fateful comet or
Weapon of mass destruction we are
Killing ourselves with knowledge
Flinging solutions and
Waiting

Disappearing into thin air
Perhaps I should
Because I became a ghost

People walking through me dressed in coats of fur,
I can barely feel
The warmth.

In the cool night,
I wonder through the paved streets
With no goal
To occupy my empty mind.

I’m withering away.
The wind blows, dissipating my shape.

And yet
I still see
I still hear
I still smell
I’m still here.

And never will I want to leave
Thoughts are flying through my head
I need to return.
My shoes need to finally touch the cobblestone of the pavement

And with this will all changed
There would not be an epitaph,

For I had spoken with the homeless man on the beach,
For I had fed the larks pieces of bread,
For I had managed to talk to one of my forgotten friends.

I’ve been brought back into the world,
And it drives through me
All the experiences flood my mind

Singing songs,
Forest walks,
Conversations long,
Perusing streets,
Eating treats,
Greeting friends,
Swimming deep,
Feeling breeze,
Hearing birds,
Holding hands.

I wish to recognize a world
Of three generations prior
Behold willed ignorance
prefacing
the beginning of the end

And what defines a generation?
Tragedy—around which we organize
Well, cheers to progress!
Emerging problems and modern answers
Cycles of collateral damage
We’re dying to overcome

Because when the smog clears
I am a great grandmother
Glimpsing the Tatra peaks from Krakow
And swans parading Italian canals
Intoxicated by a fickle hope

That momentary reprieve
As we advance our chaos
Sheltered away—always drifting
Further, then hurtling
Fateful comet or
Weapon of mass destruction we are
Killing ourselves with knowledge
Flinging solutions and
Waiting

Covid,
You can’t see it and yet it manages to kill people.
It surges through the world
with its wings flapping on it’s back,
silently doing it’s work to the innocent townspeople
like a black bird soaring through the night sky looking for it’s next kill.
You lost everything to it.
All the big leaders can talk all they want but they don’t know what the pain feels like.
People behind the scenes are risking their life everyday
and they get no credit.
It spikes.

You open your mouth and scream,
you scream for all those who didn’t get justice,
you scream for your mom.
Your scream
pierces the world with a sense of lost hope.
But a glimmer of light shines through the once closed doors
Hope is finally spreading its wings
You know the future will be better
Covid,
Silent but deadly.

Why am I still sitting?
It’s far to late in the night to be up.
To be aware of your how your toes tickle on the soft part of the crunchy brown carpet.
Sitting and watching.
Like a cat, staring at a bird.
Unbeknownst to the four confining walls around her
And the deceiving glass, mocking her.
Laughing at her.

I sit and I ponder;
How does time pass so perfectly?
Minutes, hours, days, weeks, all line up so neat.
Numbers
And seasons
And night
And day.
All blur together and make the universe seem effortless.

Walking into a new year is like a movie never ending.
You expect the problems to solve,
The credits to play,
And then everyone leaves the theater.
But what if things keep going?
What if you’re trapped?
They lock the doors while the movie plays.
To keep everybody from missing the end.
So if the end never comes,
Do the people just sit and crumble and slowly loose their minds?

I don’t understand how everyone makes these jokes.
About how ‘I survived.’
And ‘can’t wait to leave it
all behind
when the clock strikes twelve’.
As if the entire world’s scars would heal
Pain would cease
Minds would calm
And missing would be found
Once the year just ended.

The sky is bleeding
And throwing away our calendars won’t seal the wounds.
We can pretend things can go back to normal.
Plaster on fake smiles
And watch as the seconds line up.
Watch as nervous laughter fills our streets.
Watch like the red will turn green.
But wouldn’t it be funny…

If the people all said it was over
And acted like they didn’t just witness
A downpour of chaotic pain.
They cheered
And hid their hurt.

But the sky still leaked red?

Valkyries escort you across the Bifrost,
The snowflake landscape burning exhaust,
Melting to a continental empire of desire and oil,
Bow down to the same blue veined, bloodstained royals.
Shrouded in the veil, snow kissed of the Eldrich mists,
That false creed only persists with narcissists.

So order your stained glass manors by the dozen,
I’m sure you’re secure in your decisions,
It’s not like you’re held to repercussions.
Weave a tapestry of a hero to be worshipped,
Formed in the image, The very visage
Of her Highness, her Grace, her Lordship.

I don’t need grand estates or feudal titles,
Adorn me in Brussels lace and vicious cycles,
The wheel still turns, so surely it isn’t broken,
London bridges burned and I have spoken.

Cheese:
Ugh everyone eats me WITH something.
They put me on sandwiches, crackers, and even pasta.
Sometimes they just melt me.
It’s crazy. Who wants soggy chips?
It’s like I’m not good enough.
Why doesn’t anyone just eat ME.
What’s so wrong with simple by itself Cheese.
There are so many cheeses,
Why can’t one of them be meant
Just to eat with nothing?
There’s Blue, Colbyjack, Monterey, Swiss, Brie, Mozzarella…
And we can’t forget Cheddar.
I miss the old days when I was milk and
Everyone would just drink me.
I did love those cookie crumbs though.
I am like a sauce,
No one wants just me.
They put me in a dish to serve people and
Nobody even tastes me. Ugh!

Black silk paired with rose colored glasses,
For to see the wounds she herself buried deep,
Soon enough, enough time passes,
It’s as if she’s woken from a hundred year sleep-
The small and flattering waist,
Beloved by all in her glory days,
Unceremoniously replaced,
With an extra helping on a silver tray.
Every trend she had worn to conform,
Hideously out of style,
Her only accessory besides her pearls,
Is her stained and crooked smile.
Her youthful voice stolen like the mermaid,
She who once entranced the sea below,
Has rotted and hollowed and chosen to fade,
She who ran swift now hobbles slow.
“Madame Grey, I am at your service,”
Her newest conquest pronounces with pride,
Paranoid, she retreats- blushing and nervous,
Closely- too closely- he sits by her side.
They discuss the state of the world nowadays,
They never disagree.
Emotions stir within her, Madame Grey,
Perhaps a bride to be.
Spiderwebs decorate her once-stately halls,
Her formerly flawless mind- fragile,
States that he loves her, serenades her, undoes her,
Brittle laugh and that fanged, tainted smile.
On a fine spring day, a young lady arrived,
Young enough to be her daughter,
The spawn of her sister, and how she thrived-
Off of the flattery of Madame Grey’s lover.
Drama ensued, the niece pursued,
She who captured the concubine’s affections,
They sought out her blessing and received the next best thing-
The gift of her passing, freedom from her obsession.
They would never know how her wails pierced the ears,
Of the ravens that she knew, loved, and fed,
They would never know her deeply rooted fears,
Or the taste of the belladonna, or the grey ichor she bled.