What Does ‘Now’ Hate Know of Love

So commonplace now, the trickle down gun shot tears…from a mad clown.

Only means of recourse, to recover the slanted mind from the sand…

somehow.

No vacancy messages.

Airwaves telling of what is to come.

myra evans disappointed

There are three crows circling from above.

What does NOW hate…know of love?

I could walk the tilted land endlessly searching the heaven’s below.

Rummaging the hell above.

The question will remain…

What does NOW hate…know of love?

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Coloring Heaven

When heaven can manage to meet me.

In a crowded with goodness, forest.

Or, perhaps, beneath a cloudy sun.

In a mysterious alcove with lost souls bouncing off shallow walls.

History dripping like spare change to the tin floor.

Framed pictures of loved ones…with two feet or four.

 

When heaven can manage to meet me…

I would sit leisurely in a recycled Adirondack chair.

Pondering bubble thoughts.

Dreaming of forgotten factories and their avenues of broken schemes.

Mystical back woods.

Inflating woodsy possibility.

Bliss dripping in black and white.

With moments of color keeping score.

A Ruthless Chair

If I sit alone with that…which does not shine.

The chair twists over.

Carefulness and intolerance.

Than become a seat that binds.

As ruthless as heaven above…

And, hell below.

There soon sits an awareness…

Pay no heed to an inner franchise.

Until I have learned all there is to know.imageedit_15_4802653979

 

In My Heaven

Within such a short period of hours…Pieces of me.  Slices of intersections that I have crossed in the shadows of friends.  Persons who have entered my heart and soul; if only for a small stretch of road.  Have gone.  

They left for different places and other landscapes.  These are the loved ones who have found greater and less fragile fields to roam.  

And, in my awe, there is a blank space.  Bridges that at one point, came full circle with glamour, hope, personality, both good and bad; now fall short.  Just out of reach to the…other side.

Nirvana, neither frightens me.  Nor…does it lay before me as though, a blueprint to a perfect acre of love and beauty.  However, to my chagrin.  No matter my depth.  No matter my deep thought.  I mislayed the greatest gift life can give…’the ability to take nothing for granted!’

My Heaven

Nothing shatters.
Nothing brakes.
Nothing hurts.
Nothing aches.
We got yourself one hell of a place.

Looking down at the world below.
A bunch of wine.
Fighting schmoos.
Up here we got none of those.

There are pools and lakes and hills and mountains.
Music, art, lighted fountains.
Who needs bucks here, no ones counting.

No one works, we all just play.
You can pick the weather everyday.
And, if you change your mind…that is, okay.

Grandmas up here.  Grandpa too.
In a condo with “to die for” view.
There’s presidents and movie stars.
You just come… as you are.

No one’s lost.   And,  no one’s missing.
No more partings, just hugs and kissing.
And,  all these stars are just for wishing.

There are little white lights every where.
Your childhood dog… in dad’s old chair.
And,  more memories than your heart can hold.
Leave us singing fields of gold.
There are neighbors, thieves and long-lost lovers.
Villains, poets, kings and mothers.
Up here… we forgive each other.

For every soul that’s down there waiting?
Holding on… still hesitating.
We say a prayer of levitating!

You can look back on your life and lot.
It can’t matter what you’re not.
By the time your here… were all we’ve got.

IN MY Heaven

 

Walking By Heaven’s Door

 

Just one of those, where the rain barely keeps you awake, moments.

Seconds with my life for life’s sake.

Hidden in the foggy valleys of every god forsaken town.

Storybook ghosts walk by without any sound.

Every now and again,

I cling to these forcibly sad days.

The ones so silent they dare not get in the way.