Blue, Bare and Bitter

Blue, Bare and Bitter

Past frigid air, definitively and dark winter,

the icy gales haunt the Hornbeams with force.

A graphite sky clouds thought, and sentiment.

On Russell boulevard, leering creatures lurk.

Passing from strangers to wet street corners.

Cars stay right on their cloudy track, unaware.

Herons probably migrating, anxious this season.

In evening, an Inferno will lash out and lick the

Mediterranean, until it burns bright, bright blue.

Bones will be stripped bare, until ivory white;

Hearts will mortarize, and burst forth like shells

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Left Behind

Left Behind

Everything is shiny, spotless and new

The past has been completely wiped away

A sense of dread creeps up my spine

My gears are corroded, and rusty

Every time I see tattered photographs

Of those years of ageless gold and splendor

Not for youth, or lost abilities do I mourn

But for a beauty of fading collective spirit

Everything is rolling right on past

And me, I feel left behind, and far away

 

 

Life in a Market

Life in a Market

Seeing drab supermarkets like no other, with creative lenses

Looking at those same dreary aisels through pastel, cleanes

This landscape and shop of steel and glass, melts my misery

Through it, every human story walks in and checks out

And through each laugh or petty frustration, inspiration sprouts

 

Not to an ultimate truth or meaning, but something better:

We’re all insolvents here, but we can live as more than debters

Seeing feelings and souls through each other’s doe eyes,

There might be more to our knotty, difficult lives

Nothing deep or complicated, just something to help us be

A little less frustrated

 

And it’s through this camera, one rooted in heart

We record our basic nature, until we all part

 

Beneath all the garbage, written on paper and plastic wrappings

One can see what sustains us, beneath all their trappings
It’s nothing special, just life in a market

Where we blend our existence with a strange machine

But between the wheels and the grind we can still live through our dreams

Don’t Let Go

Don’t Let Go

Weary, near the mountaintop

Bones, grinding against the rock

A bloody ascent, a steep climb up

Cutting the rope is an easy descent

But the gales and my spirit are mighty

So my flesh firmly holds on

And my hope soars high with the winds

Swan Song

Swan Song

There is beauty in the wounded bird

Shimmering with bright, red blood

Essence dripping into the ocean

Majesty in an off-kilter flight

Fading life mixing with a deep, blue sea

 

It is this creature’s swan song

And it is as moving as any orchestra

No horns need to announce it

No strings to add texture

And no drums to shake the earth

 

Falling from grace seems so wrong

But this bird is returning its gift

It made no error in it’s flight

And yet it is falling from so high up

It only needs to dive to tug at one’s heartstrings