Everything so much slower

Almost boring

Thoughts now easy to filter

The bad ones rarely escape my lips

And when they do

A quick lie can cover it up

Pretend like it’s all okay

While waiting for the decay

What do you want me to say

This game I don’t want to play

Keeping the image up

Smiling constantly

To all those who don’t matter to me

Trying to keep things moving

Momentum is all that keeps up this mask

So if I keep up the tempo

And no one will ever really know me

The Dance

Eyes lock across the room
Like magnets
As if seeing one another
Through a mirror
The serenade of steps
Echoing through the room
Mimicking each other
Almost mechanical
Yet as fluid as water
Until they encounter
Face to face, hand to hand
Time stops for an instant
As the tune fades out
And the next dance begins
The two appear as one
Indulging in each other's flesh
Without a care
For the observers
Enjoying the unequivocal spectacle
Of love at first site


A one-word mantra repeated
Regardless of the surroundings
And actions of others
Expelling the negativity
The foolish thought that the ability to write
Has expired
With each exhale
Blocking out the world and time itself
Hesitant that truth lies even in a breath
Until there is no choice but to gasp vehemently for life
Every sensory input overloaded at once
With only the eloquence of oxygen

3WW-Erratic, Luminous, Omen

The night before had been dark as pitch
But the moon this evening was luminous
As if it had skipped several phases
And the sun was just around the corner
Shining brightly and reflecting off
A giant mirror hanging right above our heads
Possibly a bad omen, possibly not
We began to look for anything unnatural
Overlooking perhaps the most obvious
The erratic behavior coming from Jack
First it was simple short spouts of noise
But as the light grew brighter so did the volume of his howls
Until he began to jerk back and forth
As he ripped off his clothes and sprouted long course hair all over
The transformation was sickening yet hypnotic
We watched our friend run off on all fours
Into the hills behind the tall Elms
Never to be heard from again

Carry on Tuesday #107 -So little done, so much to do-

The speed of life for many
Seems to be at one extreme or the other
Flying by so swiftly that we can’t keep up
Or creeping by so leisurely that we become uninterested
With no happy medium in between
Is it really life that changes pace
Or our perception and state of mind
That make it what it is
A depressed person might ponder
So much to do, so little done
But are they really making progress
Past that which is simply necessary
A manic person similarly always stays busy
Yet is never caught up
So much to do, getting it done
But is staying busy any better
There is always something else
Another thought that needs to be addressed
In between you will find those
Who have learned not to worry
Finding a balance in the middle
The porridge that was just right
Without having to go into the bear’s house

Sunday Scriblings #269 -FLOCK-

Animals follow in suite one after another
Having a leader but at the same time all equal
A flock does what is best for the group
The leader at that time staying rational
With us, the number of followers
Often fuels a leader with a power hungry addiction
Propelling them forward in bizarre directions
Both dangerous and devious
Much more preferable to see a flock of geese
Fertilizing as they walk through a yard
Than a flock of soldiers
Pillaging and bringing death
Mindlessly following the orders
Of the dictator who happened to be
King of the mountain for the day

The Cycle

Day after day things just seem to cycle
This silly circle of life where days are good enough
But never outstanding
And never sad
I still long for pain relentless enough
To bring forth a shower of tears
Wiping this repetitious and deliciously boring existence away
To make room for something more real
Why should my life be so easy?
Why can’t I prepare some now for the inevitable drop off?
Of death, loss, and disappointment
Curious if it will bring forth laughter or loathing
The only thing I know
Is that I won’t be ready

Down the Drain

Hard to believe what I found out on accident
The reality of this truth seems so foreign
Innocence drained away so quickly
Like the water twirling down a drain
No matter how careful I try to be
It’s obvious that there are things that I can’t see
Back to tiptoeing and thinking three moves ahead
And praying that things don’t get more messed up than this


Phony people collected in a room
Wasting space and breath
Longing to maintain the status quo
Taking turns regurgitating information
Never wanting to actually listen
When something worth saying is said
As time passes the lies mount up
But no one seems to notice
Each stuck in their own self-hypnotic trance
Paying too much attention to themselves
Selfish phony people
Will they ever learn

That Place I Loved

I remember a time
When you looked at me and smiled
When you would lose yourself in me
When we were so in love
We could not stop saying it
Now after a long time
Of dreaming and praying for things to change
It seems we are headed back
To that place I loved
I imagine warm embraces
Your fingers on my skin
Your lips pressing against mine
And most of all
I pray for forgiveness
For all that I have done
For the first time in years
It seems possible
And I can stop crying long enough
To notice the present
Instead of focusing on the past
I hope it lasts

Seeing You Again

When I think of you
I look back ten years
To a time when I did not know what I wanted
If I had known then what I do now
Things would have been so different
You are like a memory of childhood
It’s been so long now
There is no telling if our friendship is based more on
Trying to remember the good times
Ignoring the bad times
Or just basing it on this long break with phone calls
And emails where we both seem satisfied
And yet somewhat dead
I don’t have to close my eyes
To picture yours looking back into them
And I am excited
About the chance of seeing you again
After all these years