Missed it

We set out to cross the country in three days.

Three of us and

a new boyfriend in his car

a sack full of cassettes

And barely enough prerolled joints to make it all bearable

We made it all the way to the canyon just eighty miles out of the way

dates, and destinations aside, the Grand Canyon calls any plan to distraction

many plans

but not ours

The vote won to meet a date set in proverbial stone

i considered setting out alone

Never did

never made it

 

 

Drug induced

My brain is mush

Muddled with thoughts of yesterday and the tomorrow that hasn’t quite made it to the day’s rays of sunlight .

My mind is clouded with sleep- the cobwebs outstretched their tentacles and I know it won’t be long til I close my eyes

The drugs take over and sleep I gloriously find.

I have no idea what this I’ve written

But. We will say sixteen has been submitted

Officially.

And tomorrow when I wake

I can only imagine my dismay

As I revisit this poem I wrote

About sleep filled antidotes.

 

Map

Without a map, you can go anywhere,

but you might not want to be there.

With a map, you can choose your destination,

but you might miss lots of treasures on the way.

Without a map, you never know what’s coming —

fair weather or foul, faithful friends or scoundrels,

delicious food or piss-poor cooks.

With a map, you can make reservations,

let them know you’re coming, that you expect the best.

I traveled sixty years without a map.

For my last forty, I’m choosing

where I go,

how I get there,

and whose company I keep.

Last Call

Surrending to the chaos we wait for the call.

The destination predicted to end us all.

One by one we look up towards the sky, many still questioning why.

There is no fire, nor storm, or rain just simply pain.

Cascading around us like a dance.

Finally connected in our humanness.

Neither fortune nor fame will save us from the rapture of going insane.

Bonded by one another’s thoughts.

We now see the true results of greed and envy.

The end of us all presented in the form of a child, looking down at us from a great mountain peak.

We wait patiently to hear her speak.

A hum escapes her lips as the end approaches with the flick of her wrist.

We all will evaporate into the abyss.

She smiles as the tears roll down our faces.

What if we decided to dismiss the idea of separate races?

She shook her head with dread, preparing a funeral for the dead.

What if we undo the horrors of our past and all take a sip from one cup?

She sat down and crossed her legs to move into a meditative state.

We all knew by now it was too late to negotiate.

As her eyes close our minds deteriorate.

Finding Home

Belabored breaths beat out of my chest,
There is no end to this forest in sight.
Sore soles scuff against the soil,
I fear I cannot take another step.
I wander through the wild wood withal,
My only company the susurrus of leaves above.
And leaves surrounding
The quiet is maddening.

Hours pass
Coherency is just as lost as I
Somehow I still stumble forward. 
 
 


Prompt 20: The Way Of Cosmic Thought

I am on the way

Traveler of thought.

I am on a mind ship.

Timeling, on a dot.

Intersecting points in space;

Infinitely lie.

I am on the way to being.

By cosmic thoughts, I fly—

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brother Dear

 

He was the first to join me in the ranks of sibling hood

Two years my junior, we shared holidays and suckers

We nurtured the two that came after and showed them

The ways of the world of brothers and sisters.

 

As teens we tolerated each other which was par for the course

He had his interests, I had mine.

“Your brother’s the one with the fro” they’d say

That was him, the only white boy at school with a fro

I guess he realized if he showed up in high school with those tight little pin curls

He was born with, they’d probably kick his ass or give him swirlys daily

He changed to survive.

 

His announcement to go to college was met with some skepticism by the family

Mostly due to the fact he nearly flunked out of school

But he showed us, he showed us all what he was made of, what he could do

 

Honored for his achievements at halftime at “The Shoe”, he almost didn’t go

He loved what he did, how could that be so special.  He was the one that was special.

 

Things became hard for him and harder still.  He tried hard to fight anyway he knew how.

But it wasn’t enough, even with help, it just wasn’t enough. We rallied around him, remembering the times of ole, the holidays, the hair, the love hidden under all of the typical sibling bullshit.

 

We stayed with him days and nights until the call came that he had taken his last breath, peacefully, alone and on his own terms.  There would be no more hard times, no more changing to fit in…….and no more Bob.

 

Miss you brother!

 

 

Hour 16 A CAVERNOUS HAT

To sit is a blessed thing

To sing a song while you sit
And put out your hat while you sing

Wearing dignified clothing
While people fill your
Cavernous hat with silver

To be naked beneath those silken clothes

To grow feathers through your nakedness
Launch into the air singing
Like a meadowlark
Like a chorus of geese
With water in their migratory eyes

To sit on that water wearing your hat
Your hat full of coins jingling merrily
That awful melody that took
Your naked beautiful body away from us

A Kiss of the Wind

She locked herself away,
In sadness
Over him.
This never was,
Is a never will be
And her heart broke
A million times
When they spoke his name.

She had this idea,
About him.
This idea
About them together.
But he found another,
And she is left crying
Over updates
And memories.
A life without her.

She curses this woman,
Who stole her love.
Hates their,
Happiness.
She curses a fantasy,
That never was.

A love that was written in her mind,
And sent to her heart.
Love’s lonely fool.

Hour seventeen: What the dead would say if they cared about us

When I die, paint wings
across my skull & lipstick on
my smile. Death is awful,

but I do not want to be
a reminder of the inevitable,
the unknown, the void

that calls from busy
intersections, high places.
Imagine me as an angel

in whatever religion brings
you the most joy. Believe
that I watch over you,

that I am the reason for
your last-minute parking spot
on the day you’re running late,

the butterfly that lands
on your shoulder. See me
wherever you need

& think of me only
as much as brings you
comfort. Let memory

press me into whatever
shape you need me to occupy
in your mind, because you

are the one who has to
keep living. Whatever you wish
you could have said, I already

heard it. Know that you
were right. You did
the right thing.