Freedom…Just another word for nothing left to lose.
As the season’s merge…
I cannot help but think of how it is with us.
The inherited panic and fear.
The constant need to disappear.
Just when a trail has been laid…
Just as time has been weighed…
Our over shadowed life becomes displayed. ∞
And, with that knowledge,
we continue to bear the fruit.
An oath to a world of soiled roots. ∞
It is an overcast day.
Guess, sometimes it has to be that way.
Civilized words for a shut book.
Theology has yet to devise a means in which to get you…
off the hook. ∞
No matter how much I scour my mind…
with the salts of the earth…
The winds of change have not stopped.
They take comfort in the calm before the storm.
Yet, they are never completely gone. ∞
And, so the story goes,
some hostages are held by fear and dread.
Others by a custom-made bed.
Which form of abuse is to your liking?
The choice never had been yours
to make anyway…
Though it had always been your voice at stake
Just another orgasm faked…
Choices, options, delusions of narcissistic grandeur…
Why not a familiar bent take on beat her down pleasure?
They all say twice more than what they hear
Guardians of hand-me-down fear.
Everyday serving up a family owned tactile recipes
Everyday reminders turned mystery thrillers.
Everyday the salts that eat the pillars.
I wonder if you had been frightened staring down the barrel of a dark tunnel
Now and again, I sneak a peak to where you have gone
I grance and wonder
had the bleak scope made an impact
Did you understand where you stood
had those faint and painful smiles been a matter of what we have always done?
Lying there with your god and your rosaries had there been relief or repentence?
Tunnels have a way of squeezing out the memories
Memories, so long over looked.
In the end of your travels could you stop worrying about that which has not happened yet?
I thought like you…I had been raised to
Not once did the light at the end of the tunnel open up to anything new
Glancing up and around, and threw, as you did, could there ever be all that you wanted to do
Cedar Wood Courts, me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me
Cedar Wood Courts, Me Cedar Wood Courts, Me
A memory jogged itself free.
It had been Cedar Wood Court…
a family of flashes absconded with the longest day of the year.
You are after all, old Irish, dear.
The hide and seek…whiskey laced
A game of our Father falling from grace.
Cedars lined in a suburban roe
a piece of country amongst
An isle of make believe
A day trip tuned in to…
indignant baritones housed in Mother’s shoe.
Loaded guns, stolen Winston’s and relapse debris…
Hangin’ from the memories of Cedar trees.
One for you
Two for me.
Walkin’ the dog, climbing the trees…
Cedar Wood court…
Childish, isn’t it?
To want to believe.