No Need to look
I’ve wandered off
as I sometimes do.
Though Death is near,
I greet him now
as a friend past due.
So when I leave,
do not despair
I go to lands anew.
We’ll meet again
on streets of gold
by inns of molten blue.
Living on the edge.
The cliff dweller,
it has been said.
Watching the sun rise.
Mystic colors,
fill my eyes.
A kaleidoscope of hope.
The emergence of dreams.
Yes, I can, I can cope.
TiltedOne
On a pearl-husked helmet rolled
The ladybug arrived in red, of course—black spots
like sequins. Ladybug had read the invite twice
and dressed to match the brief, not knowing red
was the one thing its body knew how to weep.
The mantis came in green—swept Ladybug
straight from wallflower. They danced the way
you dance when someone’s watching from the balcony:
tucked, calibrated, small talk pitched to the room.
Ladybug practiced in the mirror for a week.
The mantis clinked a dewdrop flute all night,
bent the stem toward certain guests before they landed
and away from others—nothing heavy-handed.
Ladybug was good at being held.
Mantis kept his hands in the position of prayer
even while dancing, even while he praised their
multitudinous eyes. The band began playing
something slow. They circled round,
Mantis and Ladybug a blur. The balcony agreed
they made a lovely pair. Mantis asked Ladybug to hold
I’ve been living 2 lives since elementary school,
trapped in my own world.
and you may think I’m a fool.
one life is enough right?
It seems that nothing is enough for me.
So I began to see into another light.
In life, I double the stresses.
But its the only thing that seems to be enough.
and it continuously triples the sucesses.
knowing I can decide my fate,
brings be freedom.
And it feels absolutely great!
In the life I’m supposed to be living,
It seems like this is the root of my problems.
But its so much easeir to be forgiving.
A life where I can break free,
decide whats possible, whats not,
and who I get to be.
yet I go through so much shit
It’s hard to think,
But I got to decide it.
His boots stuck out from under the sheet
The day’s dirt cracked in the lugs.
Worn leather, worn in his last moments
With no time to unloose the laces before time ran out.
Still.
So very still.
We stood unable to breathe because why should we when he could not?
While his tomorrows ended, ours have not.
And now we are left to live them
It’s like the ringing in my ears.
It gets louder when you enter the room
with heals clicking and hands swinging
by your side, then shoved into pants pockets,
pulling out fluffs of lint
like the stuff that comes out of your mouth
in little catlike balls.
I called the doctor once
you coughed then finally
cleared your airway.
Choking should have clued you in.
You should have known then
how your phlegm, like dragon spit,
was brimstone and would eventually
burn you alive.
Cowboy strides through the shadows, twelve string on his back, red hair flowing free.
