The stream (all workshops)
Shadows now stain the wall
where his precious painting
used to hang -
Sunrise
Spring
White Dogwood and
Bright Poppy Fields -
the feigned promise of love
he created for her on canvas.
He hung it on someone else's wall
by mid-autumn when withered leaves
insulted the welcome mat,
as the heavy sunset
scorched the frigid room
where vibrant colors
once lit the walls like flames,
brazen
sordid
pompous...
unfaithful.
Ah..., how I idolize the days of yore
before June twentieth, and twenty first
two thousand twenty three
when utter senselessness wore,
a trail of woe brutally
ravaging and savaging mine psyche,
yours truly attests gullibility tore
and rent asunder
leaving cumulative finances
decimated, pulverized, and frankly zapped
rendering me poor
as a Unitarian church mouse named Kishore
dirty deed done dirt cheap extempore
courtesy yours oblivious to "red flags."
Changes
The roads are here and there to direct the way
And nowhere are found trees coloured in hues of grey.
But the songs posted on the roadside slowly become unfamiliar
And the forest’s attire suddenly doesn’t look all that similar
And theirs plenty more fish in the sea,
Kind souls that will make your heart sing with glee;
But, how I loved the old school
And the way they made me laugh like any other fool.
I slowly stroll in dark of night
down a concrete city walk,
not another soul in sight
no one at all with whom to talk
no throb of life just silence.
these canyons of concrete and steel
nearly block off all the stars.
Neon signs flash their appeal.
So late the streets are bare of cars
which reinforces all the silence.
My hearing expands as I go
searching the emptiness for sound.
I strain to hear but even so
there's naught but darkness all around
which absorbs everything but silence.
Soft Rain
Comes in small drops
Feeding grass and flowers
Along with our minds and souls
Relief
The damsel
Sought out dragons
To rest beside
Trusting that the knights
Would arrive there in time
And time after time they did
But one year ago
The knights arrived
Mere minutes too late
And my daughter lay dead.
I know that success is not certain,
But I smile, as I brush my long hair,
And I still stand up in the morning,
But I feel both rage and despair,
But I will get up in the morning,
And I know that success is not certain,
But I will not give in, and they will not win,
For the sake of our forests and oceans,
But I am sad and tired and broken,
And I know that success is not certain,
But I will stand up in the morning,
And I sense both defeat and despair.
People who count to hurt,
don't usually end up in style,
but why not.
Let's kill him,
hurt him,
disrespect,
and damage him.
Nobody gonna be like us bullies anyway
Murderous skies drip
Crimson drops forming
Puddles of heartache
Beneath a ravaged sun
Dried and withered
A raisin of a human
Drained of all her senses
Emotions and finances
The past was a nightmare
The future looks bleak
The present is hopeless
There is only one escape
Curling up beside her father's grave
Heaven and Hell echoing
As the hallowed wind whispers
Time to go...
Break down these walls,
The thick ones that surround me,
Trap me in this suffocating coffin,
Truth is this is a wound self inflicted,
Looking through a distorted lens.
Give me the key,
Unlock the breath of life for me,
Allow your eyes to see it,
Gaze upon the gift someone gave.
Am I even sincere when sorry is said,
In the moment it is,
But the action is overwhelming to me,
My body refuses to give it's cooperation,
Resists with force when I try to force it.
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