A gaggle of poetry

Sapphire sunset,
Ruby red apples float down thru the mossy clouds
I can’t imagine what happened to the other planets
As they rotated around Alpha Centauri for a week by mistake

A grove of smiling reeds danced in the wind
But it was really too cold to smile properly
So nothing between us matters


Approaching the crumbling stone wall
I see that there is a sparkling lake on the other side
But I can’t make myself climb over the disintegrating rocks
Even though it’s so hot I can see the sun dipping ever lower in the sky, igniting the tallest of trees

As I see the wall,
I can’t open up to the possibility
That I could ever cross it
Or walk around it

Something tells me that I am stuck,
in this well-world of sorrow and missed chances
I am sailing in a boat with no mast or cover
There are glittering rocks across the way and I am so tired.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A tank rolled over top of my head
And it hurt
For a long time
Until it grew back and I was afraid to go into the street again
So I sat in a room above the garage and watched
I watched the days go by
Some things never changed
But the leaves came, and then there were the flowers
And then the wind and rain and the leaves fell
Snow covered the ground for a long time
But the same people passed below my window everyday
My head was supposed to be better, but it really wasn’t
Everyone thought I should go out and play – But the bruises never heal.



+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Painfully...
It seemed that nothing would slow.
Not the branches,
not the rocks,
not the frenzied memories.
Welcome to the ground,
welcome to the land beneath your feet.
Finally arrived.
Twisting, grossly bending the chance
to survive.
Nothing would slow.
Nothing would register on the eyes.
Cloth tape around the mouth,
blood on the very corner of the crease.
Underneath the cool dirt was madness,
cool dirt was madness
was madness


Nothing would slow...not the afternoon,
the afternoon that held the sun drops
the sun drops that held captive
the imagination,
the imagination that would not slow.
The dreadful days that imagination made fast.
The fast days under the sun,
the sun that would not slow,
the angry wolf within.
The demon that had nine eyes, and the demon,
the demon with a cloth tape gag,
the demon with the sun in it's eyes,
squinting, though nothing would slow.
The sun and the demon and the dirt, captive,
as nothing would slow.