"Don't put things off…it may be later than you think."
“Ago”
Electric purple travels my skin.
Thinking of past promises whispered.
Excitement to the point of an anxiety attack.
Perspiration delivers me undone.
Hanging on the suggestion of a validation.
Your choices maneuvered me into this second life.
Living purple electric,
until the batteries run out.
“My Tired”
My tired stretches outward, and underwhelms.
Staunch narcoleptics, snoring pots and pans to beat the band.
Slumber robs youth of steady confidence.
Methodical metronome,
cadence of an old age home,
waiting to retire.
Sweaty yellow pillowcases carry the weight of the world.
Quiet, tenderest of moments, forgotten when memories are remembered.
Life, per seek, per chance, a dream of waking sleep.
Lost, recovered? Abruptly.
Dream-weaving steampunk.
Eyelids sealed, a treasure trunk.
Deep oscillating breath,
skirts the breadth of death.
“Fugue State”
All of a sudden,
somehow,
detachment is necessary for survival.
Topsy-Turvy,
sailor’s scurvy.
There’s no one in the crow’s nest.
Uncharted course approaching,
at breakneck speed.
Seasick,
Netflix and spill,
your guts over the Starbucks side.
Waves are swelling.
But, if you focus on the horizon,
a tidal wave is building,
Momentum gathering at a point.
When will it get here?
Waiting on the coastline for a Tsunami is tremendously boring.
A great scourging purge will claim the abomination we dreamt,
and teach us new universal truths.
Wandering, faces aglow.
The aroma of Huxley’s soma,
drawing us further into ourselves,
without hope of surfacing for air.
It was tech’s JOBS, to imprison us behind the GATES.
Barbarians are we, gates or not.
“Lost”
I feel the confusion in your kisses.
Open mouthed and adrift.
A beauty when your sweaty,
you drive my madness swift.
A desert expedition,
a traveling caravan.
I’m a gypsy in your harem,
a crusader in your land.
Your heart is fixed in motion,
why the need, to act so cold?
a chance at your devotion,
is worth its weight in gold.
I huddle in a dungeon,
a prison meant to keep.
you liberate my passion,
and set my soul at ease.
Image courtesy of L. Alvarado
“Packed Lunch”
Cherry tomatoes, celery.
Mini-carrots, stringy cheese.
Butter crackers, square Cheez-Its.
snack-sized baggies, so it fits.
Raspberry juice box, flexi straw,
ice pack cooling, as it thaws.
My day brings many, many things,
while you’re at school, I’m in meetings.
The only way I get to be,
there for you, is when you eat.
So, look at each and every piece,
and know I put my love in between.
When I make your lunch for you,
I’m hoping your day goes smooth.
We’ll meet up later,
to hash it out.
And you’ll tell me,
what to keep out.
And when I go to make it new,
I’ll remember the revised menu.
“Low Battery”
Where went the urgency we once had?
What happened to our fluid flow?
Life got a hold of both of us,
and placed passion in escrow.
Get getting gotten gone,
resolve to start again.
A Once to hang Upon,
beginning nears an end.
The daily grind of living,
smothers spontaneity.
A self-imposed life sentence,
oh, dream of liberty.
End of days, dark silence.
Sitting hand in hand.
A quieted alliance,
is what true love demands.
“Excuses”
There is no excuse.
I simply did not do it.
I am not ashamed.
“Phantasmagoria”
Dish soap mix melting on paint can lids.
A siphoned sight of dreams develop over the frame.
Bright and muted colors muddle the lens.
Forearm hairs prickle and goose flesh pop, pop, pops.
Crackling tissue paper stuffed in used cardboard toilet paper rolls.
While the smoothness of pouring honey is ruined by fly paper fingers.
Breathing is labored, then rhythmic.
Electric caresses shoot out to nerve endings, and back again.
Looping lull.
Then, all of a sudden:
BEING!
Standing diminutive within a black hole.
Looking upward, outward, inward,
but not downward.
As soon as you do that, you become unmoored and move through space-time at a speed faster than light.
Which is a construct that is yet undiscovered and deemed impossible.
Yet, it is, was, and forever will be,
despite our best efforts to derail dreams through the application of reason.
Whoosh!
“Hickarado Incorporated”
Thirteen years of friendship.
Partnered by choice.
Three testaments to teamwork.
A dog, a girl, two boys.
A house once, now a home.
A barking business in the wings.
School runs and droopy diapers.
Life’s marrow, these little things.
Regardless of the ledger,
and all that we’ve been through.
There is no other human,
I’d do it with, but you.
Thank you for your attention,
and continual support.
Life’s easier to weather,
With you, Lissette, I’m sure.
“Downward Spiral”
Turning my back on derision.
Facebook clap backs are no longer important.
Moving through the virtual landscape.
Teflon spawn.
Sorting through distractions,
pausing to catch a breath.
Meanwhile, sands slip silently into the collection reservoir below.
Last time I checked, there wasn’t as much sand remaining.
