And The Walls Came Tumbling
Up
No, not much, I said, straight
faced and bland as dietary fiber.
Oh good, she began to waiver,
sitting across the table from
me; I guess the others had left
for the family room. All these
years I've worried about what
you might have been carrying
around inside of you. I only
remember a few things mom,
I told her, don't worry. One is
the time when we were three
or four and you left us out in
the car in front of the hotel
while you zipped in for a quick
drink... I did ok didn't I, letting
you know that Chris had eaten
all the aspirins from the first-aid
kit, tucked in Tupperware under
the front seat. Not many others,
I carried on, mostly just some
tears in bed at night listening
to the yelling and one big one
in the dark just outside my bed-
room window. Maybe I was six
or seven when I woke up from
the fighting and got up to see
both of you outside naked and
he had you pinned backwards
over the hood of the car...That's
when I left for good the second
time, she said, that night was the
corker when he split the stitches
open on my gallbladder operation.
Ok, thanks for piecing it together
for me, I replied matter-of-factly.
Oh, I'm so glad you don't remember
much dear, she sobbed, like when
he used to slap you for toddling
in front of the TV when his hockey
games were on... No mom, don't
worry, I blocked that out too.
Wrench of sanity
Such a small mind, so much enigma
to store within. An over flowing
basement wash basin, grimed from
environment before its time. Taps
carelessly cracked open by deviant
fault of others. Brother, boyfriend,
baby sitter, doesn't matter, threads
are stripped regardless, taps of devastation
flood body and soul. Spills of defiant
behavior, sexual intrusiveness, social
ineptness, compulsive taunting for attention
cascade endlessly over edges of logic
disposing bits of shard glass callously
thrown in to deepen wounds. Blood
and stagnant waters merge. One thing
left to do, sponge the mess, model
appropriate choices, replacing old worn
taps with new perspective ones sealed
safely closed with a wrench of sanity
for this seven year old to one day dry
the porcelain creases of his reason.
Illusions
She thinks she's young
So might they
baggage says otherwise
brimming with collectibles
strangely
... treasured
razor sharp images
angst
slicing the mirror
as a priceless diamond
insights
used, worn
yet fresh as clean pressed
hand-me-downs
often just as valued
esteem
built years later
block by precious block
like the pyramids
ancient strength
overruling realities of
crushed dust
solidified
vulnerable to winds
love
that needs no reason
Her inner child
now safe
wise
playful
but grown before her time.
He thinks he's old
So might they
stolen glimpses say otherwise
Despite the battles for peace
wars of drink, drugs
love, or not
hardened experiences
worn lines of life
weathered as a glove
yet supple
kindness prevails
the dam may not burst
but the leak quenches
his inner boy
lives on
victoriously
Empty Thoughts
The room
resonating abandonment
suspended
aching with silence
studded, drywall
air entrenched in gold dust
disarray
from the fog of sanding
...edging
...chafing.
Walls sigh...
teasing fresh paint to
splash
...splotch
mimic contours of life
utter voices of refurbishment
flair
Ceilings perspire with anticipation
awaiting winds of change
sprightly dawns
Hardwood floors
shine with ardency
footprints of
soul determination
Doors creek, refusing
oil of submission
Windows, unsuspecting
transparency
filter illusions
double pained
...To keep essence in, or out?
Eternal Timing
Trapped in an hour glass or is
it a three minute egg timer not
knowing which is less trivial or
more pertinent though both are
transparently concealing all within
not knowing which end is up
which end to adore the other to
deplore madly with tears and
fiery, the channel with a mountain
of crystal life beads to live by
to struggle with climbing never
truly succeeding reaching the
top victoriously relishing in smug
fulfillment, one step forward two
steps back sliding creating more
work the greater challenge to
accomplish whatever height stolen
moments of success we can manage
or to be stable flat on the ground
with the upside channel raining those
same pellets of life drizzle biting
currents of blood sweat and tears
not knowing where to hide, take cover
to go within for privacy because after
all the walls are glass revealing
pounding sands of emotion, attempting
to shield with arms over head eyes
and ears not wished for, mute from
the pain until enough has fallen so
the mountainous trek to a fallacy of
well being, a grain of self worth
momentary achievement begins upward
again until the world tips the hour
glass
again dumping on us once more.
Weekend On The Fly
Took a few curves in the road
A tad too fast
passed a dawdling truck or two
along the way
maybe it was to do with thoughts
of you and my throbbing
below for you
that took precedence over caution
but still, I wasn't ready to
shake hands with harm's way
slowed down for the night fog
and galaxy of white stars pelting
the windshield
I took care, dear
let my angels do the rest
and hoped you would not
worry too much
With the music cranked
kids snoozing
the long drive wasn't so bad
A night of silent passion
we have it down to
a fine art
as the boys lay sleeping down
in the kitchen area of our
trailer
this
your home
away from home
Then daylight
as they head out to explore
more time for us to do
the wild thing
no need to don that satin blue teddy
this time
the one that clings to my curves
only long enough for you to
romantically
lustfully
peel it off
one strap
precious fiber
at a time
as we eagerly await
the rise and fall of my sweet
hips to the rhythm of your
seasoned tongue
your devouring climax
deep within
falling asleep in the
crook of your arm
spooning each other
Funny how it's taken us fourteen
years of marriage
and a separation by economy
to feel this fire
savor in these
pendulous
moments of hungry
fucking and tender
love making
Then a day and a half later
the weekend is over
as fast as we came
I wonder about the drive home
what I don't have
to look forward to
there
alone
without
you
Addicted
to the Net he thought
or was it poetry boards
specifically?
regardless
I know the feeling
after a long day
kids and work and
duties galore
cutting loose
peach cooler on ice
whooping it up
snug social life
fine as wine
cyber as it is
click here, surf there
snoop around
laugh and wonder
piece together
debate this, banter that
voice a
welcomed opinion
butt in
caring one day
resident bitch the next
wouldn't trade it for the world
now that I have it
love it
knowledge and life
learning through
prattle
people
poetry
some friends distant
still worth calling
a friend
tighter bonds
closer few
I'd trust
with my life
as I do now with
my heart
You Never Told Me
I remember the last time
we were alone together
a mid summer's evening
my long hair tucked up
in a pony tail
and during that lingering
stand up kiss
that we didn't want to
let go of
you took down my hair
saying that you liked it better
this way
And now my favorite time
of having long hair is
moments when
we can shut out
the world
flow with the tides
make love
me gently on top
both of us lost in
mahogany feathers
falling
kissing forever
again
With A Twist Of Lime, Please
Country girl
Peaches and cream
Apple baked pies
Blissfully tarnished with
Remnants of city soul
Blazing stop lights
blowing in the wind
blinking green
charged at all times
Racing traffic
never reaching true aim
Incessant
purposeful
journey
Electric nights
woven with
sighs of regeneration
undaunted 'til dawn
A heart that bleeds far more
than scare crows and spring calves
toddling pace of life and back wood
musings
Instead, starch trickles of subtle necessities
Passion
whispering fiery
trudging through dead end
streets
of
complacency
contently turning
heads
unabashed
like a
high
priced
hooker
Paint The Town Red
Brushstrokes thickly coated
crimson
destiny dripping
fire licking up walls
of abandonment
after-glow embers
burning images of
misguided love
eye of the storm
red and weeping
blood splashed nights sliced
by surreal screams of
reality
obscure defiance
survival
dressed in heels
sleekness
grinding poverty of soul
painted nails raking flesh
shifty eyes of manipulation
overshadowing
shades of empowerment
breathless whispers of fiery
all painting
the
town
red
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