Jack in the Box
Stuck inside
Four walls
With no way out
But it is where
You put me
How nice and neat
For you
To keep me here
But I
Don’t belong here
I ain’t no damn
Jack in the Box
Where you can shut the lid
On me
Whenever you want
Hour 6, Prompt 7: Love’s Charade
Trapped in a narrow and hollow abyss
As the time slowly tick-tocks away
The four walls grow smaller, the scenery dulls
Each minute, each hour, each day
There’s much time to think about life as a whole
The journey of trials and truths
As the cool, darkened room eats away at his soul
Its glory, its vigor, its youth
Where once a young man had casually stood
Professing his will and his way
A graying, balding and beleaguered soul
Stares stoically forward, this day
A product of errors he made in his past
Repented but alas still his own
His sentence goes forth; his judgment long cast
As he lives out his days all alone
A murderer, yet not in the known sense
A soul that left his family
Or did they leave him for being so dense
To disrupt their love and harmony
His wife and his kids, collateral carnage
Tossed away for his mistress, M.J.
The drug of his youth that led to his habit
Of harder drugs along the way
He now spends his days as the four walls grow smaller
Alone with each what might have been
A longing to change the past as he knew it
And to start things all over again
But his home’s now a prison, where love once existed
A penance for each choice made
He’ll live out his sentence and carry his burden
Regretting love was his charade
Time Will Be Less Kind than Money
Friends don’t let good friends
Out the door without saying
How each is perfect.
Inhabit
Tarry here
My dear
In this story drenched night
Delay your hurried pace
That moves you past
Mystery’s exuberance
The breeze call to curiosity
Dwell on thoughts sweet and unsolvable
Stray from the plot’s steady line
Choose again to inhabit
Your fine and fleeting senses
Your body’s lacing melody
Let the pleasure of incarnation
Live in your savored seconds
For where you lay your attention
You write your life
Post 7 hour six… Find Me!
Fun is in the finding.
Fun inside an old ice chest.
Fun is in the finding.
Baby sister’s guest.
Babysitter wonders,
Where has her charge gone?
Near to death, he smothers.
Gasping for each breath.
Prayer slips from his conscience,
Pleading to be found.
“Please come now and find me!”
But there comes no sound.
Babysitter questions.
Where can he be found?
Then she sees the sister
On the chest, she’s crowned.
Quickly she discovers;
Little charge thought lost.
In her fear she quivers.
By my game the cost?
It Was Quite Humorous To Me
I giggle now at crazy times long ago.
You’d locked me out thinking you were so smart,
Not so!!!!!
You changed the locks on the door.
I climbed over the railing of the porch,
Into the house and through the sliding glass,
I was inside once more!
it doesn’t matter now, but a bit of advice I could give you on your past endeavor:
Next time, check all the locks and try to be more clever!
Locked Out
Locked out
Locked out
In my own space
Echoes of my voices rebound
Making tiny holes
In the great soul of mine
From whence escapes
Lithe songs of innocence
Alas!
Time is oddly spaced
And there’s no way out
Hour 6
Hour Six
On three square blocks I’ve lived a good life
Home, work, grocery, liquor, books, clothes
Everything I need I can get on foot
Everything I don’t need too.
2019 #6 Escape Plan (Small Part 2)
If I had my way
I would expand the box around me
Right now it keeps me in
So small I lie in perpetual fetal bliss
A state of constant contraction.
To flee-
I might blow gently at the corners
Letting the womb’s edges rise against their weakened seams
Worn by time and inaction
Until I sailed high enough, so like a delicate bubble
It pops, oh so softly, leaving me to drift in midair-
But if it were so easy
I would have surely done that by now.
Instead, I would be better to fight
Unwrap my legs and smash the sides out
As if my life depended on it
Because it does
Because there is no life inside this tiny box
That contains my tiny life.