Poems

Struggles with an open heart

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Some grow wild
Untamed by neither wind nor rain
Roots sinking deeply

Some grow by roadside ways
Hardy and beautiful
Pulled up from the ground
Given and discarded
Seeds of self grow anew

Some are plucked by hands uncaring
Trammeled underfoot
Hurting they grow in ways unimagined
But still they grow

Some are replanted
In soil unsuited for their growth
But still they reach and strive

Sometimes they are replanted
By hands soft and hard
Allowed to grow as they will
Beauty remarked on
But wild and free

Sometimes they adapt
And become what they were meant to be
Despite all circumstances

In the solitude ache
Of a quiet stroll
The urge to find fertile soil
For those which struggle
Wars in the heart

Perhaps to fall
And become soil

Shadows of the gaslight

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Normal is a false front
A dream held out as tangible
Flaring to smoke when we touch it
Dreams make the world go round
But make sure its your dream of a better life
Not their dreams of another yacht
Which you buy into
Voting with your dollar
An American terminology
Even now I here it whispering
Not just products but politicians
Corruption at a level so fundamental
That it’s systematic
We two party system and vote with our team
Rather than with our conscience
And all the while they whisper
Normal is a new car
A new drink
A nostalgia trip designed to make you feel comfortable
Normal like it ever was
Normal like that is what you want
We normalize exceptionalism
As if yacht dreams were true
It used to be a chicken in every pot was prosperity
Now its a Tesla and smart watch
One feeds the body and keeps the mind ready for a new day
The other says more is the way to go
It’s that siren song of new and better
That dream of the future
We mortgage our present for the intangible
All while we are assaulted that this is normal
That the consequences of our reality are not what’s real
It’s all fake news
The mantra of the child
Sitting in the corner
Ears covered
Eyes squeezed shut
Screaming over and over
‘Fake News’
Who are you gonna believe
The man trying to give you a normal life
Or your lying eyes
Nostalgia is a lie
Normal is a lie

What was is never again
And the only way forward is with
Eyes wide
Ears open
Hearts heavy but accepting
Don’t allow yourself the cozy warm blanket of normal
It’s made of asbestos
The past was never the place we remember
Try not to forget
This time

Too tired for laughter

Pelgris5 Comments

Waiting for the hammer fall
Anxiety cripples
Stress piled on stress makes mistakes
And each mistake feeds the certainty that job loss is around the corner
In a economy not hiring
Isolation becomes depression
Sleeping all the time
Uncomfortable in my own skin
Wanting extended conversations about nothing
About everything
White noise
Heavy heart

Slowly building rant

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I want to say that we’re all in this together and that we’ll get through it together
But I find my faith in humanity has faded
As my contact with those people who make existence worth living has also faded
As the pure loneliness caves in my walls
I find myself seeing the self delusion for the bare knuckle fear it is
I see the desire to categorize people as other
To separate and in separation create the cult atmosphere of us vs them
I see the herd mentality breaking systems which were never envisioned to sustain assault by the herd
I see greed eat philosophy so much that the philosophers give up on philosophy
Instead calling out the hypocrisy of cloaks of gold draped over “common man”
I see rebellion fomenting but leaderless and rudderless
Just a stampede waiting to break
I see people living for a past that never existed
Yearning for a truth that was always built on a lie
Prosperity begins at the bottom not the peak
You ask me to drink from some stream you dammed
Calling it trickle down
While you swim in your lake
Too much for you to ever use
Too much even for you to invest in people and ideas
So much that even if spend every waking moment finding worthy causes, you still accrue more wealth than you spend
How then am I to ever get my fill?
If all I get is your scraps
This delusion that you will someday be rich so you safeguard the wealthy is directly making us poor
Burning our infrastructure for profits
Voting for less say in our own prosperity in the hope that those greedy enough to take more than they will ever need will share that prosperity with us
Delusion upon delusion
I once thought that in humanity there was hope
That the craven depths were outweighed by the glorious heights
That the predominance went to beauty
Instead
Sold to whomever promises magic beans to be delivered at some vague future date
And not today’s magic beans but from when magic beans were great
We’re making magic beans great again
Don’t you believe me?
I’ve got hats

Civilization blinks, breaks, like dust, gone

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We stand as trees
Proud and varied
Close but still breathing
Still strong
Nestled in our branches the edifice above
Creaks and groans
Held above by log and lies
Blood coagulated
The soft peace of a life without struggle
Ok is good enough
Grows heavier
Boughs break
Weight settles
The sky breaks through
Around us
Once tall and safe
Lay stumps
Shifting shivers bark
Fear begins to sway
Waiting for our turn
Waiting to break
To burn
Or merely to fade
As hope fails
As last light
Which
New found
Now fades
And into the unknown
We proud
We strong
Roots deep
Shiver in fear

A pandemic is no time to be iconoclastic

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You roll the dice
Walking around hoping
Laughing and drinking
Why care
You fell ill but you were dine
What’s the big deal
Go to work
Scratch your face
Cough lightly on the water fountain
It’s fine
You feel fine after a few days
No worries
You hear that Kev in marketing who sometimes flirts with you is home sick
No worries he’s young
He bounces back and is in his cubicle the next week
You hear his grandmother is sick
Poor dear
You pray for her
But you know it’s not something you did
How could it?
You’ve been ok for a few weeks
A week passes and more people on the floor are going home sick
That Kev really gets around
Then you hear Kev is out again
Sick? You ask
No, his grandmother passed, the poor dear
Thats awful you say but she lived a full life
You watch the news and hear that this thing might be serious but the president says in a few weeks everything will be back to normal
He must know, though that doctor kept butting in
Another week and people can work from home but only if management approves
No one wants to be the one who abandons ship so you all stay
You see that a local retirement home has a bunch of cases and a couple more deaths
Couldn’t be your fault
You’re fine
You here Kev is back and his eyes are puffy from crying
He’s taking this very hard but then you hear his grandfather is sick and his father is on a ventilator
His family is having a hard time
But the country will be fine by April, right?

Sip whiskey with me, I’ll show you worlds

Pelgris1 Comment

I’m one part shattered heart, one part battered soul
Three parts protective, two parts sexy times.
I’m a clock wound so tightly for so long that I’ll never quite spring back. A timepiece built of hours devoted to love but in the silent lonely, to tears.
I’m a disciple of science and a priest of storm. I see no reason to deny gods; just to fight them. I believe in the philosophy of the human spirit and am woefully disappointed in its apparent lack. I know what it is to live without wanted human touch and what it is to drown in its addiction. I am always uncertain how my dreams and love will be received. So I will second guess and apologize, leaving you wondering if I really had done something wrong. When I love, it’s forever. And while that seems romantic, there are places in me reserved for loves which will never be. Places filled with longing and pain and almost and maybe. I am tears shed without regard to propriety or place. I feel and I will not apologize. If that makes you think less of me then I no longer require or respect your opinion. I am strength in weakness, bravery in fear, and hope without cause. But I am also unexpected fragility and hide myself in talk of blood. No one looks too deeply when they can’t be sure of the answer. I am wishes unfulfilled and wishes granted. But some wishes can never be. No matter how much you need them.
I am soft opinion and persuasive thought. And secrets never to be told, and secrets yearning to be believed. I feel old and look young. Stress makes me sexual, it doesn’t cause wrinkles. Silve hairs since I was twenty but deep brown for all that. If I were rich I’d be less wealthy because taking care of my people is my priority. I’d help them build lives of joy if I had the means. I am a shout made for joy. Of love. Of ownership. Of mine. But respectful of consent, I remain silent. I am pleasure made pain and pain made pleasure. I am two divergent and equally held beliefs.
I am
I am
I am

Think but this….

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Living in a tragedy gets old. Dystopian elections of battered hopes where men fall prey to honest ignorance and are pulled to pieces drowning out the message. Each rally set outside of an election year calls to mind another authoritarian in black and white; a dead mans message of terror spread out to the stars propagating at light speed. Years pass and life continues with battles and fights to hold on. With love and a renewed hopefulness and the crush of long distances. To hear her voice, to watch her dance in joy. Then a waking from a dream and a virus wreaks havoc, exposing the flaws in logic more boldly than a hundred hours of documentary and late night talk shows. But still conspiracy conspiracy conspiracy they whisper and while I speak only in shadows and darkness still my heart remains because of she’s there. Hair wet symphonies and silence. Driving to work for a company who has tenuous grasp on reality but the commute is short. Trying to convince aging parents to take this seriously but hearing Fox news reach up their spine and spout false talking points. Despair but with rapid eye twitches from lack of sleep. Still…I’m not dead yet. Time enough for love and joy. Death is coming and that’s no lie. But he is my brother. I know him well. And I am not afraid.

A ballad of lost starlight

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There are nights
Bright with purpose
Skies infinite voids dotted with a rage of long dead infernos
The soft crisp air dreams of you dancing as if in melody to the hum of the city
The hush of the world as it slowed and waited
A pause between inhalation
Drunk on the heady spice of a path unfolding
A future without limits
Nights found after the club
Before the cab ride back to your place
Moments in transition where the universe itself is unsure of what’s next
It’s not that these moments happen less
It’s that we aren’t there for them
As the world wears away
And we find ourselves asleep in the middle of splendor