Home, Hostile, Home

Home!

Funny, odd, queer, with its anger.

Ham fist-ed jokes never given in moderation.

Games of…

monopoly…no dice.

Frisbee’s tight lipped and tainted black for playing at night.

Puns? A lead pipe to encourage all players to…think twice

The, I Was Only Joking, trophy, next to Home, Sweet, Home, place-mats, to adorn the holes in the wall.

Mad Jester, the biggest joker of us all.

Pastime of full contact Slap Jack.

Paperbacks left in the rain.

Simon Says, it is a never ending riddle.

Wisecracking those who wish to remain sane.

Rotten Apples

My home…with no family tree

no roots to secure fresh fruit

no need to touch the log cabin frame

no sense in digging up roots with already stained hands

no value to picking forbidden fruit with yellowed nails

After all these years, the crows still circle above.

No mention of love.

Houses That Only I Know

 

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No spider’s web just chilled air and thought.

I pass homes.

Houses that only I know.

Me, myself, as I am…alone.

And, when the entanglement be invisible…

I fall

I fall with bruised bone.

No matter the acclimation,

home, sweet home is long gone.

Mine is a history that dares me to repeat.

Mine is a history that dares me to repeat.

Breaking the Back of Pavement

Little hut in the snow…made from wood and all her vices.

I zip up close to the vest…

Only when it is time to leave.

Of the earth…my door of entry requires less shelter from the weather.

A warm hearth draws me near.

hut 1

Breaking the back of pavement…I am back on the beat

Neon walks in as intruder.

Ready to confiscate my light.

Doorways to peep shows whistle out misdeeds.

Hunched away from wordy words…there is not much to be said, when the city is out on display.

The clouds move so swiftly among tall buildings…

It is hard to keep up.

imageedit__3296752031Yet, I do not hurry.

My only harried pace is back to the wooden hut.

The Weight of Night

The weight of desperation to leave…an elephant’s foot.

A heft of which… a granite wall…immortal, lifeless.

Little runaway, I tried, I tried.

Ravaged by midday hours…late twilight had been my hour.

I tumble as a result of…my own fall.imageedit_4_4797812923

Darting, dodging, I could only take the route practiced and untamed.

Stuffed animals in the trees…dangling echos…all about.

Deep in a true vault of pine and birch…both shedding onto my perch.

I tumbled…as a result of my own fall.