do you see me imperative for me yet improbable I dance the dance around mediocrity drowning in apathy I appear forthcoming inquisitive to you because I must I crave freedom this imagined freedom a clever guise surrounded by others I sit alone waiting for something
Month: March 2017
waiting still
patiently no impatiently I wait for the tides to change cliche perhaps but they crash around my brain I smile because i must disguised in the veil of hope I trudge on convincing myself simple pleasures are enough
her
small bent not big enough they say silent smiling she pushes on her twisted foot raises her head still weak our lives are constant worry and joy watching with her giant eyes she waits for her cue to cry
the funeral
father was angry that I wore black nail polish, my first funeral unceremoniously torn between grief and fashion I donned all the black my closet could muster grandmother was my tall redheaded alcoholic rock that stood firm bwteen father and the war that was us, protective and silent her will against his as I glanced dry eyed at the bonnets dusted off and carefully displayed atop aging heads, grey faces I wondered who would protect me now
aging – the inevitable
intellect screams supposedly to live large when the beginning is a fading thing run and dance and play when your body is able to be joyous where there is joy and perhaps wear silly hats and get tattoos depends on you don't live in regret don't regret living fuck what others think or say this is your one life such a cliché
elusive
ever elusive love hated and desired in the same breath heartbeat disguised as lust desire often overlooked because of vanity pride love is pain awash in our hearts blood ever elusive
darkness
sets in ears ringing hollow thoughts fragmented the thunder grounds the electricity in my mind momentarily fingers working typing i can see them aching bones elderly and i wonder who they belong to
remembering
the good ole days we have all had them times and places dust and memories sounds and faces that make you smile or events that are best forgotten drunken nights silly behaviour unapolegetic or embarassed tastes and textures that stay under your skin for all time remembering
waiting
always waiting for the right moment for more time for love to find us waiting takes the place of living and doing despite the consequences forever waiting to have fun to dye your hair platinum and cut it all off to wear that silly hat to not care what others may think of you waiting to be hurt again the inevitable glancing at the beauty of life ever so briefly while waiting to die
Poet not poet 