Writing, Ideas, & Stories
every little sweet picture
every little diction
on trial while promoting
voting for office-
all eyes on me;
figure eight on the side of my brain
reign over my body
and i don’t sell the tickets-
they’ll challenge but i won’t shrivel
the sight of fright won’t make me swivel
and we will
stand up together and give an acceptance speech
to have a say over yourself
forward- all forward
away from the santic minefield
the shadow of a lesser form
frantic heat shield;
you walked a lonely road
the day is now red
halted on tolerance avenue
left pondering your world view
i counted
all the way to one before i got lost in your eyes
at the tip of your lips you are mine
and i am yours
at two
i fall all over again
lost count
and started back at one
the experience breaks fear-
found the experience at the tip of a card
now knives break against my skin
folding full houses and straights down the drain
but my knees still shake in the rain
quivering at the memories
traded for guilt
measured in nightmares,
at the tip of the card was a jack,
and now inside this club
try to scrub this sleep clean
before the fear breaks loose
nothing on the docket
guilty from a mile away
judge on vacation
jury marked absent
executioner on duty;
trial by society
fire and brimestone
hung from a gold star
walking the streets with their head in a bag
marked failure
perish.
the back of a billboard read- perish.
lined in black paint and red letters
the chalk outline read- perish.
i didn’t know martin- that’s what i decided to call him
for he has no name other then- perish.
a lasting snapshot across two metal pipes
a slapshot in my memory filed under- perish.
i wrote in my journal to make sense of it;
to find lines to read between to justify time of life
and it all doesn’t just round up to- perish.
so i’ll give him a line, the least i can do
too see that red and black paint
didn’t erase your name
but will live on in mine,
a statue called-
perish.
one way you’ll find yourself on your own
nothing wrong with that sitting from your ivory throne
just don’t phone home
with that stray
around your festive sleigh
carrying him over that archway
he’ll never be on broadway
i see tomorrow in your eyes
as i stare deep into the morrow
hands entangled
stars spangled
this is freedom;
i see shadowless plains
flowers in vases
paintings of cotton candy
a type writer by the window
newspapers on the table-
i sometimes see neighbors
i sometimes see a river;
a stream and a swing under a tree
free from social pressure and this is a refresher
theres us; theres us, just us
i see that;
a tree with a heart carved in
the honey in my tea
the treasure under the river
all in your eyes
a wall of mirrors
and i am invisible
raising my hands to the drapped ceiling
gold and silver
gods that saved me
but placed me here with no exit-
not a fun house or silly games
just a thousand me’s
that can’t be seen
sheen tipped arms
pressed against an isolated mirror
screaming for a handle;
taunted by gold
laughed by silver
a game
in their fun house
don’t let me get in the way
like a door stopper
just take your time;
but we see the inside
joy and love all in a single package
that isn’t on sale when I go to Target
but it is here,
trying to sign the papers to take part
but their eyes will take me apart
they know i don’t belong
just a possible gateway drug
to ruin their perfect world;
so they don’t look at me
just stand outside,
just watch
like a puppy waiting to be pet
watching her sister go instead
Saint's Muse 