Bad Music
There is nothing worse
Than having to listen
To bad music
When there is
An entire world
Of music out there
To choose from
Perspective
red may be too bright &
yellow too glorious
some days are meant to be
muted &
delivered in generous blue
and soft spoken green.
The Tribulation of a Closed Heart
My heart crawled and circled, banging against the caged walls of your heart. It did this for years, not knowing why, beyond some “should” of commitment. Then it was time to release your heart and fall away. In the lull, I turned inward, digested myself, hanged myself from a tall oak. I spun my heart away, locked myself in a shiny chrysalis and as an amorphous mass of imaginal cells, I was over. Until I wasn’t, until I grew wings, a new body, a new everything defined no longer by you, but by sunlight and self, power and love. I emerged anew, whole and complete, reborn into sky.
Mournful
My heart cries
a quiet song
in the dark
of the night
where no one
can hear
but my soul
and my
God.
Eve Remillard
6/22/19
6. Bumblebee
They said, “Don’t worry, it’s a short drive.”
Yeah
Right
When you’re crammed into the “back seat”
Of a yellow 77 Volkswagon Beetle
Along with 2 boxes of random stuff, a few bags of odd smelling food
And a particularly friendly chihuahua named Gnash
A mile may have been a hundred, for all the comfort it allowed.
The seats smelled of vomit and old lady
Turns out the car was once owned by my “friends” abuela
Some 20 years before
It had sat dormant for the better part of a decade.
Try as I might, comfort was moot
As was the lack of drool and a sense of impending doom I felt
Every time I heard a rattle or felt the jar of deathtrap over tracks
The only solace being the tiny window I opted to peer out of as we journeyed
The view was quite pleasant; even soothing.
Especially that time an attractive woman looked at me while stopped at a red light
And she smiled at me, eyes peering over mirrored shades
I smiled back
Dangerous
The clouds huddle
While lightning strikes the ocean
With jagged fingertips
And sharp crackles.
The cliff crumbling,
threatening to dash you
upon the rocks beneath
Light a spark
Clasped within your hands
Singeing your palms
and scorching your fingers.
Be the first
To cast your flame
Into the ocean
Hour 6
I wait outside the door
I listen to the sobs inside
The door is locked, I cannot come in
Let me in, baby girl
Let me say it will be alright
Hour 7: Post 7: Unleashed
Look at you, coward over,
Searching for a way to make this about me
You foolish soul
Can you feel my resentment building
my anger toward your very breath
Can you not see what you have created?
The monster in me is eager to feed off your lies
All of your insecurities
All of your pain
You have unleashed the part of me that
I tried so hard to bury away
Yet you took your shovel
And dug me up just like the last bullshit you
Tried to feed me
Do not underestimate my power
Or my worth
I will demolish everything you ever Hoped and prayed for just so I can sit back and bask in all of my new found glory
while I watch you struggle and beg
Just like I have for you
Prompt 9, Hour 7
The infamous song prompt! I get so nervous every year when I post this one. The idea is to listen to this song while writing or before writing, whichever works best with your process.
Remotely
Torrential rain
Disquieted artistic endeavors
Prompted scrambling and disarray
Forceful winds blew in impatience
Impatience painted in grey
Grey shadowed a landscape
The landscape covered complained
The complaint reached the caretaker
The caretaker could only say
Thank you
Omnipresent for the artist
Is the creator of it all
Omniscient to matters of great magnitude and miniscule
The great and the small
Gifted and guided tenderly
Handled with loving care
Even in calamity and seeming impossibility
Be aware
The key locked deep inside
In torrential rain fall
Can be opened remotely
When
We
Call