He sat in his car and watched her struggle like one watches a fish drawn from water. Not an ounce of support did he offer, not even the lift of a finger to relieve her from her trouble. While she beat her chest in sorrow, he adjusted his mirror, tuned into the radio, and shook his fist at the world’s problems. Not once considering the solution, was as simple as helping your fellow.
To the brink I was dragged,
carried along blind and mislead
to stand with you upon the ledge.
To play amidst the cobra’s head
I was happy and glad.
Free of bond or gag except for
that choking thread, a gullible
lamb I followed where you lead.
On the cusp of ruin you had me
hedged, a pleasant wedge of
selfishness and beguiling demand.
Left with out a leg to stand into
your chest I plunged my hand cutting
off the devil before he had me damned.
Then over the edge and into the abyss,
I tumbling heel over head.
Revolving around a moment in time,
for a love not real you still pine.
While the one you love to another binds,
you’ve anchored yourself to
the things passed behind.
The world and your dreams no
longer coincide, for the love you
imagined forever at your side, said goodbye.
While you think your words have flourish your listeners have deemed you foolish. Spewing pseudo wisdom not fit for a goldfish. An ounce of knowledge and you believe you’re accomplished. If you have something worth while to say, then say it, other wise remain silent, for that thoughtless comment, is just unwelcome vomit.
He looked at me and said, you mustn’t be afraid to sparkle a little brighter darling, and with that I stepped forward a tad further so that the light from above would glint strong enough to blind the audience, and make rainbows dance before their eyes.
She used to say never put anything in writing,
but without the written word
there would be no self expression.
There’s this innate need deep within that I wrestle.
Speak my mind, or pay heed to her lesson?
Its more then a need, the consuming
desire to write is vital.
Words, and their beauty hold weight,
set the imagination on fire,
have power, is a force not easily toppled.
The simplest of phrase opens
the door of the impossible,
and makes any and all things probable.
The thoughts are always a jumble,
over my own tongue I often stumble,
but with paper and pen I’m invincible.
Within the linear motion of time is the orbiting narrative of our lives. Circles of repeating patterns that we imagine can be traversed, but we’re loath to escape the loop. With each rotation our circumference becomes smaller, and smaller, spiralling us downward until we’re wound good and tight. Only at the bottom do we resist the tangled heap. Hence, the webs we weave.
It’s a sorted story the business of laundry, one could even deem it dirty. If I told you the truth you’d question my sanity. You couldn’t comprehend the complexity. The whole affair is a pile of misery, stained with grief and tragedy. It wouldn’t take much ingenuity to burst this soap bubble conspiracy, but with out quarters honey it’s an act of futility.
You the potter I the vessel.
On your potters wheel I lay
delicate and fragile,
waiting for you to imbue me
with the strength of metal.
In your hands I’m made to
feel special, a work of
art fit for a pedestal.
“You gave me the wrong amount of change! It was 8.53 I gave you 10.00, so I should have gotten 1.47 back! All you have to do is count up till you reach ten, 2 pennies brings you up to 55 cents, 2 dimes brings you up to 75 cents, a quarter makes a dollar, and another dollar makes 10.”
“Thank you for the life lesson, and for publicly humiliating me. I actually do know how to count change, I just miscounted because I don’t get enough sleep at night. You see after I finish serving all of the kind and respectful patrons of this establishment I have to walk five miles to the nearest bus stop where I head to my other minimum wage job, and stand behind another counter until 11pm, then I take another bus home where I sit in front of a stack of books trying to cram in enough head knowledge to earn a slip of paper that will afford me the same opportunities as you have, so please forgive my error, and have a nice day.”