Hot creosote & rocks
dark asphalt paved
over the earth’s meridians,
dragon lines absorbing aggression,
anger, machine roars and channeling
these forces into killing:
squirrels
raccoons
deer
opossum
wolves
skunks
coyotes
and each other.
Because all the best machinery
we have is born in blood.
Your garden
Thouroghly neat and tidied
All of your loves and passions
Lined up carefully in dazzling patterns
Flowers blooming line by line
Except for mine
For autumn has come
Though I am still alive and growing
My roots still firmly fixed
Just bare blooms this chilly season
I thought I was your prized flower
Your favorite plant in this massive garden
But as soon as I was no longer beautiful
With soft colorful petals
You ripped me and my roots right out of your precious soil
Thrown in the trash and never thought of
For you only loved my flowers, not my roots
So when autumn came, you didn’t know what to do
Inspired by unknown quote found on Pinterest: “You fell in love with my flowers, but not with my roots, so when autumn arrived, you didn’t know what to do”
today’s her twenty fifth
birthday and it’s incredible
the patterns of families
where we are
where we are going
all the crossroads
we have come a distance
all of us and she
she will continue long after the music to my song fades
which is how it should be
her brother compliments her and I know
I know she is loved
which is a good pattern
we have created something promising
not just the muck or sorrow
despite the setbacks and comebacks
we will march on
twenty five years since the beginning of her
so much yet to come
It’s the 13th of June, another currated cable channel news story day.
I am minding my own business, doing what is needed, trying to stay out of the way.
And at lunch break we all converge back inside the office for a bite.
Announcement on the intercom – keep political opinions to yourself – please be polite.
And then it said, we need to remain civil even if we can’t see eye-to -eye.
Today’s emotions are raw, both sides sure the other is telling lies.
But how can it be both sides are telling such grand and horrid lies?
Seems the moles can see better, and they hardly see the light of day.
The New Testament was ushered in a long time ago; we no longer take an eye for an eye. We all see a little short-sighted when we treat our fellow humans that way.
Don’t even start with me, I know Kindergarten taught you how to be polite.
That sandwich looks good, maybe go ahead and take another bite.
I once trusted, stayed neutral, didn’t see the need to fight, fuss, or bite.
You were my friend and ally before; I dont’ understand why we can’t let sleeping dogs lie. My silence may have said volumes – still trying to remain polite.
Finally, we rose speaking entirely different languages on that day.
Both fearing the others language, woke and queer words got in your way.
I have become invisible to you, and it seems you shut tight your eyes.
Business practice teaches us we do better when a team has all colors of eyes.
When we combine our clever coding singly into joint megabytes.
Contributing to the whole, learning from each other along the way.
The purpose and performance keep us focused; we don’t notice tangential lies.
I guess that is textbook theory created for a passed day.
Out of vouge ideals of synergy, ethics, communication, and just generally being polite.
When our blind mole friend wanted to be social he evolved to remain polite.
His nose became starred, and he no longer worried about his offensive eyes.
He learned to read electric impulses; he got better at it every day.
With twenty-two retractable tentacles he felt the vibrations towards another wormy bite. He just follows the electricity in the mud or air – the insects can’t lie.
Yes, when he couldn’t see it, he just developed another way.
Another taste of lunch and we realize we can’t evolve that way.
My opinions make me dumb, you talk down to me – it hurts and its not polite.
And that disrespect, I guess, is really the overall biggest lie.
Because you used to hear me without hate; you looked me in the eye.
You shouldn’t have to block my ideas; politics shouldn’t change us – this all bites.
What’s the point, I guess admit we are both wrong – yah, that would be the day.
But do we not make our own new day? And determine the best ways?
I will share with you my remaining bite for it cost nothing to be polite.
We can’t be harsh, look into my eyes – we all sometimes tell a lie.
The weather raw and damp,
grey sky, the trees a spring green,
aching in newness.
Ghosts at each intersection I pass.
Losses I can put behind me
while far away spring at me now
like cat’s teeth at my neck.
I could be in the tropics
under blue skies and a bright sun,
but I chose to be here, though
I’m ambushed at every turn.
Do I only imagine tears swelling
my throat? A sadness that would
drain me dry if I’d let it. But of course
I won’t, practiced as I am
in turning away.
I’m 23 years old.
I have no money
and no washing
machine or dryer.
I’m the only woman
at the laundromat.
And I’m frightened.
Everyone has
something to give.
Even if it’s given
haphazardly,
it’s more
than we had before.
You are a Pure Being.
Present, aware.
Someone is hungry,
give them food.
Someone is thirsty,
give them drink.
Someone is suffering,
help them.
You are
Great Love,
Great Compassion.
Taken from (OWW) prompt
What’s important?
