24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
to be is not to be
that is eventually the answer
to know that I will not be
because you are: Death
already you sing my song
and I meet you in the harmonies
I see there is a coda ending
wrapping it all up on the theme
of me
and my living
and my loving
and my singing
the Breath within my breath promising
to be the Breath within my death
still singing
harmonies;
why do I always let you have the lead?
This too shall pass
Like every sunrise or sunset
It comes and goes.
There will be another tomorrow.
Even behind the clouds
the sun rises and sets.
As years move on and
age increases.
Every morning begins with eyes upon a dark ceiling, mind shrugging away from the slumbering fog, searching for clarity, What time is it? Where am I? Instantly immersed in the accumulated web, mirrors, and books, carpets, cushions, windows that contain a controlled perspective. What is true about the running water in the sink? And the sigh of metal ventilation passing air into the room? Or the fading sirens swiftly passing down the streets beyond this house. And in my own car, a mechanical construction, glass framed movie screen to capture The rolling cityscape Sparkling in the sun, grid lined electrical wires crackle, grinding engines of cars on all sides. Billboard signs selling an image of society, Bumper stickers, radio station chatter, swarming noise of human-built unreality, yet sold to me every day. Provided for me to consume, to take part in, to carve into, shape, contribute to the illusion, to feed the farce society. None of it is real. But it is real. This is my American life. My world. Our collective offering of the functioning economy, spellwork on a mass scale, artificial, counterfeit life, a system of fuel burning, production, profiteering. A veil so thick I measure myself by it every day. seek to find my purpose within, deluded as any other, satiated by motor oil, imaginary numbers on electronic screens tied to the idea of my worth, increasing, decreasing without ever holding a monetary note that proves it is tangible, just an agreed upon representation of the force that continues to consume us as we consume it. Unattainable beauty, sugar, sodium, Virility that doesn’t age, triglycerides, children breathing carcinogens, caffeine, cancer, anxiety. Pointless noise.
Skyscrapers, their feet
Set in concrete,
Watch over the smoggy city street.
The needles of factory chimneys
Spin fluffy cotton clouds
Into dreary mundane grey funeral shrouds
To spread on the city street.
Only the gaudy glow
Of neon-lit store fronts
Pierces the murky smog
Of the grey city street.
I once dreamt of spending days
In a green and gracious place
As a forest ranger,
I now face a different danger
Of drowning in the grey
As a cop on his beat
On a grey city street.
Things that should not be compared in bed.
…Thoughts that hang like pearls on a pear tree.
Remnants of what used to be…
Things that we should not compare.
Past had face to resurface,
To check if wounds are fresh,
Found them to be gone,
Was trying to move on,
Dulled all grace,
Lastly had tears,
Wounded,
And it,
Left.
Out in the country I hear the birds
chirping before the dawn’s first light
waking me up with their songs.
So many melodies
I wonder in awe
and mystery
the lyrics
to their
songs.
A normal, regular cup of coffee to me,
means no sugar, no milk or cream.
Yeah, my first order of coffee
wasn’t what I wanted.
A cup of coffee, that’s it
nothing added, nothing extra.
A normal cup of coffee.
He was gloomy although was the nicest of them all.
He knew she was the light and he was darkness.
He also knew she was the one that started as sunshine.
He was the one that ended as nighttime.
Like a relationship that ended he was there for comfort.
She had left them all behind for someone new.