WisdomOnce, long ago, I went toMore Like This
A place where none could follow.
It was a place between
Life and death,
Where all possibilities existed
Though nothing else did.
I wanted to go forward,
Beyond that full emptiness,
Into the world of death that followed.
But it was not my time.
I was so young when it happened,
And I didn’t understand
How much more to life there was.
I could not understand it
Until I lived it.
Now, many years later,
It seems that I can feel that place
As it comes to greet me again.
Old age is an interesting thing,
More interesting because
I did not quite reach it.
No, middle aged is what I am,
And it seems I will go no further.
This is no one’s fault,
It is just Nature’s will.
I cannot say that
I regret my life.
It was good, it was full,
I did everything I could to be happy.
I only achieved that occasionally,
But that was to be expected.
There are things that I still wish I could do
That will be forever denied to me.
Growing old with the one I love,
loyalYou found meMore Like This
at hell’s gate
tasting my footsteps in the air, your chin
raised and bobbing.
We’ve known each other longer than
the industrial revolution, acquainted
before I first wrapped my hands around a gun.
Sixteen thousand years
we’ve known each other.
In the winter, you swim in, I sip
steam-breathing primordial takeout
from thermal Precambrian hands.
Circling the dark earth, you finally found
the place I am to end and waited for me.
Your earth eyes closed, earth head bowed,
but still other eyes and other heads
blink and sniff at the air.
but you are careful
leading me away from the tomb.
DogAmerica is an overly purebred dog,More Like This
With rheumy eyes,
And a coat designed to be pretty,
But was ruined along the way.
The dog is ferocious,
A good hunter,
But with eyes so filled with overactive tear glands,
That it can scarcely tell the difference between
The decadent flesh of prosperity
And the rotting flesh of a broken society
Until it’s digesting it.
Its arthritic knees
Are twisted so strangely that it runs absurdly fast,
But, although it can tell that it’s going down the wrong road,
It can’t turn off of it.
America’s coat may be beautiful at first glance,
Convincing the onlooker that it is healthy,
But anyone who has ever seen a healthy dog
can tell that America is in the process of dying.
The swollen organs pushing at the thin, matted fur
Gives way to her illusion of grandeur.
God, how I miss the majestic beast of the past,
A grand creature that could snap a fish out of a river like lightning
As easily as it comforted every child that came
DiaryA book filled with memoirsMore Like This
It told of a concealed war
Somewhere behind four walls
A girl silently called
It spoke of a raging patriarch
A bloodied and beaten matriarch
A boy of kin under floorboards
The same girl entrapped by a nailed door
It said she woke to a blood-curdling scream
Outside her window the matron took rope to a tree
The patron stood and watched her swing
The girl pondered if she could such a thing
It mentioned his slow gaze towards her window
The sudden quick tempo of her blood flow
Her own painful and desolate
Everything she wrote until she died
FlourishMamas, Don't bury your babies out in the backyardMore Like This
When they grow old enough to disappoint.
When the sapling branches in the wrong direction,
Sever the limb, or support it with string to grow in a new direction.
If you're determined to bury them,
Dig a hole shallow to nourish growing things,
Plant a garden to help them flourish
Not a grave to simply forget.
Often I find myself wandering between tombstones.
Sometimes I think it to be true,
That the only way I could grow into something new
Is to be planted in the earth.
My soul would rise as a stone, strong and without fear.
My thoughts just a marking on the earth
For some to be reminded that I ever walked here,
Forever an emblem, scrawled with just my name and a date.
Each stone and cross a memorial to someone's stolen identity,
No one would remember any of the bad about me;
Just the recycled letters forming the words of my claim to fame.
A date to timeline my life and death.
Some days I wonder why the young so often cease to exist,
Not All Wings Are Made to FlyShe is small:More Like This
She cannot reach the top shelf where her dreams are stashed
She is foolish:
She thinks that by flapping broken wings she will defy gravity
She is selfish:
She doesn't realize what she leaves behind the instant her feet leave the ground
(not that it matters: they wouldn't notice her absence anyway)
HumanityThe two roamed through the skies,More Like This
taking glances here and there.
"Don't you reckon that was a tad unwise,
and a little bit unfair?"
One glided forward a bit,
squinting at the people fighting in the streets.
"Yes, this is something we must not permit,
but haven't they learned? Why must all of this repeat?"
It huffed, "We saw this last century,
when many were killed for one stupid reason.
Where has it gone, all their purity?
They're calling for a terrible, rainy season!
"Where did this hatred come from?
We've been here for centuries, and I'd thought we'd seen it all!
Look at what they've become,
they're too much of themselves. I recall...
"...I recall when they started marching one time
for what seemed to be the right for marriage;
marriage of same-gendered couples. They did shine!
All the colours, all against those who disparaged!"
The other one glided around gleefully,
"Yes, I do remember! What a ball, I thought
there'd be no more war, no more treachery.
Oh, but look