Words and Willfulness by the Wayside

Need not dwell on all that has vanished to the wayside…

all the pokes and prods…

all the worries on the doorstep.

Words and willfulness that weigh on my features.

Pen and paper missteps etched in hollow bark meant to…undo.

A drumming beat…that is not quite thunder-like.

Rhythm’s noise now…an imperfect blue funk mixed with classic hues and purposeful refrain.

A tune not a one can claim.

Divergence’s influence…small tunnels from matter to the mane. 

firing at trees
I would imagine it is difficult to stare into the woods…to see only one tree.  But then again, an     un-examined life is no small feat.

to What Women Say

I believed in what was said

Thou I wished I accepted less of everything

This book of gospel seeping into rabbit holes

Trifle left accept gritty, grains of falsehood

Reeling from inclement pavement

Reeling from obedient hearsayfeet on the beach

My becoming, a clay footprint, fragile, breakable when placed upon such an erroneous display

My first impression out…

A caged animal sedated nonetheless alert

Second step…

casting the shackles away

to which I held the original key…to what women say

 

 

Purging the Reservoir

My neck tarnished

stretches of veins collapsing around the dirt that holds fast to my collar.

Riches from a blue sky have deemed my whiteness in such a way that…I wish the lies to be truth.

white n black

And, thus I sit in my poor excuse at living unassisted.

A whitewash for my migrant legacy.

Opening a chasm between…

pools for swimming

and swimming pools to be emptied.

imageedit_7_3316433846

Pretend, Friend

Do they got a 57 Chevy in the yard?

Do they remember 8 tracks?

Do they say their Hail Mary’s?

Do they fear their environment?

Have they heard of sit-ins’ and Negros to the back?

Have they seen the needle in the spoon?

Stranger, stranger, where have you been?

Should I trust you?

What are the sacraments?

Will we both, continue to pretend,                             friend?

Life is Bad by S.Lynne

Waste away to nothing in a dark dusty tomb.  Looking for the traces of what used to be a room.  Wipe away the blood from a tormented brow…Solve the wicked problem…never asking, how?  Rock the sinking vessel until it rest on the bottom.  Count the waves of water…  Don’t remember?  Forgot them.  Taste the stench of living on thin dimes and a dream.  Opening an ear to a painful, silent, scream.
Oh, life is BAD!  The worse I’ve ever had.

Ache and writhe in agony like a vise on aging bones.  Tar and acid drip from an ice cram cone.  Holding onto a wind that chases the hell.  Falling  in the darkness of an inner descending well.
Caress transparent night as a demon with a sword.  Speak with an eloquence… never saying a word.  Look into the clarity then erase it with the muck
Lying in a pool of consciousness.  No such thing as luck!

To being a beginner, to inventing the end.  To living with a stranger… never a friend.  Saddle slobbering beast… trouble is abound!  Ride the devil’s bronco never hit the ground.

Oh, life is BAD!  The worse I’ve ever had.