Up-Cycle Pop!
Closet full of CDs
broken jewelry pieces
old clocks
radios
flip phones
paint and glitter
waiting to be reborn
as the most fabulous wind-chimes and Tchotchkes
Gift shopping dilemma solved
If I could just find my glue gun
Sleep-Deprived Truths and Risky Musings
I didn’t want to feel so much;
And, maybe, it’s imagined, construed
But it’s something to have a thought jump to mind
And it isn’t, by far, the only time.
I feel easily, it’s true;
And I’ve been hurt so recently
That maybe I’m latching on
Because you’re gentle, kind to me?
Dare I tame it, call it ‘friendship,’ first?
Withdraw my attraction; place it in chains?
I might drive emotions from bad to worse
If I do or I don’t grab hold of those reigns….
In truth, I love spending time with you,
If this is who you truly are;
I love the work, the story,
And am intrigued by the one whom I imagine.
I resonate with the words that spill forth
From wherever in the world you are;
It takes a rare and empathic person
To formulate such thoughts.
I thrill that you’re an artist, finely-honed
And magical in your ways –
I’m grateful that you’re now so often there;
That I’m not alone in this.
And I know it’s likely only this COVID isolation
That has allowed for time, like this.
Write to me of most anything
(Now, there’s an old idea) –
It’s surprising to me what has become
Because I thought I sensed something else, at first –
And honestly? I’m still unsure whether to believe or not
But here I am, in the early morn, blushing so hard, it hurts.
And you don’t even know that I have this sudden thought of you –
Unless you’ve picked up on this fact in the last day or few –
But, it’s easy to feel for someone who is real
And so easy for me to accept whatever I may feel:
It’s is a gift, not a demand, of course –
A statement of value, not a challenge of force.
landscape of existence
humanity manifest its works in all arrays
seen in every possibilities working for goal
marvelous movement for lifting times
covering the landscape for human development
still caring for the life stories of every creatures
calling the life coveted plainly speaking
connecting lovers delight
converging thoughts often clashing so desirous
moving in the riptide of encounters seen
sequencing in the worthy times covering anew
connecting in the life coexistence
Poem # 14
Forbidden (10th hour) prompt
He reached to touch her existence but could not further his cause.
She was far beyond his reach in a place that was forbidden,
in the stars that was never written.
Across the sun and upon the moon
Her shadow will forever be in tuned,
with a fate of a love that would be forever doomed.
No open skies
No songs of romanticism
He cannot be held accountable for trying to reach her prism
A rainbow of colors to hold his desires prison.
Yesterday
Like fashion,
worst form of ugliness,
it disappears into oblivion;
trashed newspaper,
rustling headlines in derelict
non-descript parking-lots.
If you did not upgrade, you are history.
Don’t Twist Snap
Fail more fail better
Bend it till it breaks
Ancient Irish wisdom
Fail like you’ll die as soon as soon as you win
Your gottdamn life’s at stake
Too bad about the girls though,
Sex is too expensive
and comfort sits out until it gets cold
That’s why god invented whiskey
It never gets old
Fail so spectacularly
That half the people at your funeral fucking hated you
And the other half thought you were a hoot
if anyone remembers to show up at all
F
20~2
Under my fingers
I feel his heart beat
Inside my skin
I feel him within
Merging souls
Into shared bliss
Lighting me on fire
With his softest kiss
My head on his heart
With my ear to his chest
However does he know
What I like best?
Inked
Stayed and settled, desperate refining pained rapture,
Crushed neglect, conditioned to not seek my peace,
Violence against self to hem-in,
Back to those old school days
With a Sunday letter written and master checked,
When all is but debris, return to a familiar act.
Craft and recraft at first one then more and finally six.
Hundreds of hours, multifaceted paradigms to contain.
Reshaping on spinning lathe, carving off myself, give smooth outside.
Taking back closure from no body ever buried.
Lest recipient as feared, a gift of pure sight, regard and cherish.
Only an elevator pitch perspective – cable cut, hurtling sobriety.
In swipe dismissal junk folder mute,
An object marked with purpose deliver,
To continue existing drawn on if needed future,
Marked with scent personal shared distant encounter,
Cultivated as a last intent to see if love ever was.
If love was it will melt and if wasn’t then closure taken.
Received stand out shock – who else in a moment,
Only time a letter crafted months ever gifted,
Few others return a thumb tap screen,
Yet scorn justification condemn the offering,
Ripped in situ whipping boy effigy,
Yet in magic talismen destroyed to enter unconscious and manifest full.
Just my type
It only had one font
though two were available
make an error, you’d
have to erase it or
simply start over again
It had bells to warn you
of impending
margin disasters
clicked like a zipper
when aligning or
removing paper
There were
‘portable’ versions
that induced more hernias
than Pulitzers
And yet
and yet
Rrrrrrr – ca-CHING!
Next line, please.
– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd
Too Much
Too much
A lifetime of vows
Sharing of unmatched feelings
Emotions deeply attached to each other
Things left unsaid
Aaah! the sighs of longing
The same-time-same-place partings
Too much…
Aren’t we, aren’t we the destiny?
Hour 16
@varenyas