24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
We who love water calm and still
Shatter like glass with unexpected waves.
We who love rapids raging chaotic
Drown in the stillness of the ordinary.
We who seek fullness and the shine of the sun
Diminish and wither in twilight.
We who love starry night and velvet darkness
Burn with the sear of our souls.
Beyond the battleground
Beyond the war ground…
Is the power of the mind
The greatest mankind war
Was first fought in the mind
David first defeated Goliath in the war ground of the mind…
From the boardroom to the war room
The mind must first conquer
From thought patterns to practical execution, the mind is the heartland…
“He can who thinks he can”
Here, the “mind-room” wins
Against the odds!
The mind carries enormous power
Waiting to distill
The mind packs a punch waiting to discharge…
From legendary gladiators to Pantheons of distinction
They first understood the war of the mind to conquer the physical threats of their oppositions
Dominate the mind game to dominate your territorial sphere for strategic takeover…
Welcome to the labyrinth that is my mind,
An ever-changing maze that has walls of doubt,
Ceilings of regret and doors of reflection.
Welcome, dear maze runner,
Welcome to a place I have never been to,
But I wish I could go to.
A place that had pandora’s box modeled after it,
Constantly has suffering, anger, and sin
Pouring through and out of my mouth.
With Joy locked away like a skeleton in a closet,
In fear that unlocking that door would mean losing her completely.
The streets are paved with memories,
The boulevard of my broken dreams,
Two roads down memory lane,
You can find a lover’s bay and there a broken-hearted boy will be your guide.
This place has a new system installed for security purposes.
So these insecurities will not believe a word anyone says,
Even if I look in the mirror the man in it,
Will never accept what’s inside.
As you go deeper,
You will find a sunset of dreams,
Kissing the skyline of opportunities,
As it sets to rise on a new day.
Fall in love with the moon.
As it gives you hope that you can escape this labyrinth.
And unlike Greek mythology,
The longer you wind the rope,
The deeper you venture and the more lost you become.
So string it around your neck,
It looks better there.
So welcome to the inescapable labyrinth that is my mind,
Tell me what you see,
Because that is the one place I would love to go,
But have never been.
Hey Hollywood, way out west
golden highway, you hot mess
have I missed your glam, your impersonators?
glitter like a tranny golden apple?
I want to know your drag, your yellow bricks
I want to know your bowl, your bright sequins
tassels and tiny light bulbs
cowboy hats and dirty diners
I want to sit in your greasy spoon.
Have I missed the neon letters stacked
the search lights holding up the sky?
The river of street light on the wet boulevard
Cinerama and celluloid?
Is there an old movie for us to hide in all afternoon?
Tell me, Hollywood, is it too late, baby?
Hour 11: Date Night
We called for reservations—
a table just for two;
arrived ten minutes early, but
we didn’t have a clue
that the crowd that gathered at the gate
was for 8:30, too!
Fifteen minutes past our time,
I had a little frown.
My tummy started rumbling
as I paced around.
A half an hour later,
we checked in with the host
who confidently told us
“10 more minutes at the most.”
50 minutes later,
I had had enough.
My boyfriend couldn’t stop me
from demanding what was up.
“A glitch in the computer app,”
he’s all apologies,
“It isn’t anybody’s fault
just bad technology.”
Every other party
was seated getting food,
but even with our table cleared,
I wasn’t in the mood
to let this guy quite off the hook
I need to make him squirm.
Being much more honest
is a lesson he should learn.
Looking back on date night,
we really weren’t surprised.
If not for the bad luck we have,
we’d have never realized
all we really need
to get along just fine
is something mostly edible
and a bottle of good wine.
You take me by the hand
and lead me to the moon
There we ride low to high and loop de loop
Through the crowds, you’re by my side
I never have to worry
We take our time,
there is no rush
We let the others hurry.
Back down on earth, we hear the notes
from The Palais and the Espy
We feel the beats move through us,
as your arms, they circle ‘round me
They sing of love, they sing of fear,
they sing everything we’re feeling
Your eyes meet mine, I know what you mean,
it’s no chance that we had that first meeting.
Down at Claypots we switch to jazz
your smile has me entranced
We feed each other succulent mouthfuls
you laugh at my sensuous sounds
As I enjoy the flavors, you wonder aloud
if you could get me to repeat them elsewhere?
So on to Beach Road and the dream house you built
with the hidden library built just for me
The answer is yes, it has always been yes
Since the day that we happened to meet.
Whose tears?
I think the ghost has been crying.
My house is full of sadness.
Like walking along the bottom of an anguished ocean.
Grief making the water cold. Dead but undulating pain.
Sonic waves echoing the wailing. Hollow sound filling each room.
Shaking my lungs.
I can still breathe because
Spirit tears are not wet to the flesh though they are drenching my soul.
Real tears (my tears) answer the howling specter as I experience its sorrow,
Taking over my home.
I am in danger.
My air supply being cut off by my own foolishness—
Commiserating with the ghost that’s going to kill me
If I let it.
Scared of drowning on my tears, real and wet,
As they’re flowing through my mouth and down my throat.
Now gagging on water. Salt or spirit?
I don’t know whose tears I speak of at the moment.
I don’t know the worst thing that is happening.
The phantoms’ pain or the pain of being quarantined with the phantom.
I am desperate to stay alive.
The ghost is something . . . more than desperate.
One of us probably won’t make it out alive.
But the ghost is dead already.
2020 Hour #11: After Alice
I went down the rabbit hole
Following the heroine’s footsteps
But I didn’t need any magic potion
To measure my insignificance.
I settled in nicely at the Hatter’s Table,
Not taking up too much space
From the more honored guests at tea that day
As that would be impolite.
But the Cheshire cat saw through my act
And threw me a sideways stare
He knew I was a fraud, and with a flick of his tail
Sent me on my way.
At the palace I faced the Queen of Hearts
The execution to be swift and clean
But please she said, explain yourself
Before you end up dead.
My Queen, I cried, I cannot lie
I am hardly a valiant Alice
I wanted only a taste of this magical place
And for that I am willing to die.
I think maybe I am a fool.
I wanted to say, “I am a fool” with an exclamation point.
But, as I began to declare it, I thought
“I think maybe I am. I think maybe I am a fool.” exclamation point.
I am often fooled, so maybe by definition, I am a fool.
I am fooled by sweet faces and kind words and promises not in writing, and even promises in writing that are unenforceable. I am fooled by those kind of people who fain self deprecation when they show you their ugly insides. I am fooled by the dissonance of their words to their slightnesses and ultimately their true behaviors. I am fooled by kindness turned to raging victim stances. I am fooled by people who say they are one thing to the world and reveal their viciousnesses in private to me over and over and over.. simultaneously.
I am fooled by the vast pendulum swing,
and how desperately people hold onto their side.
I am fooled that I might be welcomed at either end.
I am fooled by the mianspiritednesses of people
who will not stop until their way is the only way.
I am fooled by my need to believe a person who says they are good, and does not practice being good, but continues to say they are good. I am actually completely baffled by those, so maybe I am a fool… a simple fool who trusts people to be who they say they are with corresponding energies, not the wink wink nudge nudge ones who laugh a bit under their breath when they promise to annihilate you for calling them into the light, who do annihilate you when their cover is pulled off.
Exclamation point.
Elizabeth Fellows
6/27/2020, 1pm.