Skip to main content

A Recent Development

If you were a dandelion flower
how would you wilt?
like all the rest? Fragile
and weak, lost in these words
A confusing prison
mistaken for freedom

Quick sex of spring brings freedom
To these shivering acres of flowers
dribble their seed on concrete prison
floors. Caught in the wind, they'll wilt
And wallow, with hard worthless words
Stuck in a structure so fragile

What feeds this pitiful fragile
Growth? A sad hope towards freedom
Where no one rules but your words?
Has no one told you? You're a flower.
Beautiful but brief. You'll wilt
Like the rest. A cycle, called prison!

We'll live and die in this prison.
Together, inseparable and fragile
Til the end. Here's where souls wilt
Into each other. Passing this freedom
Onto the next bright yellow flower
They'll scoff at the seeds of our words

Begging and searching for the right words,
They'll whore themselves out for a prison
Wet with dew, sprouting a different flower.
The soil's all the same. Give into fragile
illusions, a shallow solace - this freedom.
Accept the clouds for what they bring, and wilt.

Weary petals, only last so long until they wilt

Throw your words
like paint to find freedom
from this prison

But remember. You're fragile
like a flower.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Inside

"There's a chaos inside that 'll not die down." Unsteady gale wind whips at hair rips souls from their bones leaving corpses of naked bodies curled and crying, wet and muddy Blackness, sound of breathing a scream that wallows, tares from the intestines spewing brown bile, lead heavy words "You'll not drown in a wake of your own making." Shoving gravel through eye sockets, dreading tomorrow caught in a web of mucus, rotting tobacco leaves, dust of glass sprinkled on tongues Empty bottles of fire sing heavy somber tunes, tumbling off the end of the earth, cutting the heads of goddesses bathing in the stars "Turmoil inside suffocates tomorrow and the next." "I know."

Rusty Muffler

My roommate was nearly killed by a rusty muffler. My rusty muffler. It tumbled, and ricocheted off wet pavement right at her She laughed. Brought the broken pieces by hand, said I'd fix it someday Radio's never worked, orange lights illuminate buttons that have no use, they're pretty in the night reflections Broken knobs flick them on and off on and off on and off on and off Before my muffler's attempted murder a chorus of tired pistons, rubber belts, fluid cylinders, mechanical leavers and stuttering window wipers occupied the cabin hall Now there's only a rumbling to be heard beneath my feet, loudest in every gear rattling organs under thin layers of fat It chokes the need for talk We are taken by the roar from place to place, I flick the orange button lights on and off on and off on and off there's need to yell at times "stop it..." I follow the white lines with my eyes until home, the howling dies, our voices are left to fill the void We listen to ...

Unknown Person Shot

“This is the path that a Pennsylvanian man took to shoot and kill Magic. There was no justice. There was no reason.” All there are are rows and rows of houses. Like the streets of Selcuk. The wind is blowing a slight dust. The light is silvery and grainy. For some reason there is a kind of music in my head. The beginning lines are being said by a narrator. As if I am part of a movie. Or as if I am the Pennsylvanian man, who's shot Magic. I get to Magic's families house. I met this family before on a mountain. I was on it with Kent. It was an amusement mountain. Only. There weren't any rides. It was all about people hiking up to the top of the mountain and taking anything they could - bikes, moccasins, unicycles, inter tubes, one girl with a blown up dinosaur sitting on a castle with goggles and a mouth guard - Kent was there with me. At the base of the mountain, was a castle like structure that skirted the base of the mountain. There were showers and places for peopl...