Disconnected

Disconnected,
Adrift in the gray.
Bright colors of life
Muted by dense fog,
Murmuring voices
Talking around
And through,
But never to me.

Seeking, searching,
Screaming out
In silent prayer
To be seen,
To be heard,
To be healed.

6/21-6/22/18

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Vacuums and Scars

A living nightmare
From which I cannot wake.
Coming apart at tge seems
Like an ill made scarecrow
Left in the weather too long,
Portions of my past
Falling away to dust,
Leaving sucking black
Vacuums,
Bending light,
Distorting everything they touch.

Souls slipping away
One by one.
Time’s tragedy:
Entropy increases.
Some vanish quickly,
Some fade over time,
Still here,
But not the same.
All leave black void scars
Like the aftermath
Of open heart surgery.

6/14-6/20/18

Sweet Surrender

The world can
Wear you down,
Like a slow steady stream
Of liquid bullshit
Grinding granite to sand,
Over the years
With obligations, obstacles,
And obstructions,
Violence, destruction,
And hatred,
Egotism, isolation,
and dumb-fuckery.

Even just surviving
Every day
Can be too much
A burden to bear.
Weighing down
Like a fifty pound rucksack
On a 10 mile march
Through the Missouri wilderness
Under 95º sunshine,
Sweat stinging your eyes,
Salt water on your lips,
Burning between shoulder blades,
Pain spreading out
Like cracks through a windshield.

How easy it would be
To drop the sack,
Fall down
In sweet relief,
And surrender.

6/8-6/12/18

Always With Me

Not a single day
Has gone by
Without me thinking of you.
Not always consciously,
Not always clearly,
The thoughts hang
Like a cloud
In the back of my mind
Behind the whirlwind
Of work and responsibility,
Seeping in around
The daily tasks
That don’t always get done,
Casting a shadow across
The random facts and trivia
And that song
That I just can’t get out
Of my head.
Lingering fog engulfing all,
Reminding me randomly
That you’re no longer here

4/6/18

My seventh poem for National Poetry Writing Month.

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Unanswered Promises

Walking nameless streets
In uncertain times
Among sunken eyes
And gray faced vagabonds,
Down dark shadow alleys
And deserted dead-end streets.

Gleaming glass towers
Rise above
The vomit filled sewers
Of a more common life

Clutching precious possessions,
White knuckles in the rain.
Losing soul and sanity
Standing waist deep in gutter sewage,
The promise of salvation
Left forever unanswered.

3/23/18

A Touch Away From Dust

Its all falling apart
Like slow cooked rib meat,
Sliding off the bone like butter,
Leaving it naked and exposed.
Once strong protector of heart and lungs
Grown dry and brittle,
A touch away from dust,
Under the noon day sun.

3-13-18

Isolated and Alone

Disconnected,
Isolated: Alone.
Solitary confinement
In a crowded room.
Avoiding eye contact,
Yearning for a touch.
Afraid of contact,
Of judgment
When they realize
What you really are.

1/14/18

The Cold

Thick clouds and fog,
The color of sun bleached prison walls,
stretch from street to sky,
An unbroken blanket blockading
Sun, Moon, and stars,
Flashes of electric light
Randomly illuminating darkness and dusk.

Cold bites flesh
Like a swarm of ravenous
Blood starved mosquitoes in summertime.
Ice encrusted trees sparkle diamond skins,
Under twilight skies at noon
Frigid frozen bones wonder
If summer warm will ever come again.

1/5/18

Laying Awake in the Darkness

I’ve felt old and ancient
Since I was 12 years old,
Worn out, road weary,
For reasons unexplained
Living in the Cleaver household
In an idyllic isolated Oregon valley.

It made me want to believe in reincarnation,
The only explanation for the
Spread thin butter feeling
That started in the 3rd grade
When I reasoned out
That death meant oblivion
Not fluffy clouds and angels,
Training myself not to think of it,
To fend off the icy black hole
Opening under my sternum,
Crushing everything within its event horizon.

I lay in bed, tears streaming cheeks,
meaninglesness pressing down; suffocating
I start to scream,
Pretending to have had a nightmare,
So my mother will come, hold, and console.
Unable to articulate the existential crisis
Of an 8 year old boy.

10/26-10/28/17

Reflection (Senryu)

Hollow haunted eyes
Looking back from the mirror
A ghost wrapped in flesh.

10/11/17

This is my response to Colleen’s Weekly Poetry Tuesday Challenge No. 54: GHOST & HAUNT.