remember sometimes and unfortunately for the more hopeful of the two, a couple can and do put all their eggs in one holey basket .................................................................................................................#NaPoWriMo2016

photo by JJ Harrison ©

" ... And if by chance 

there is still a here 

to be stilled against 

in the time we wake up 

from our nationalism nightmare, 

will there be piles of bodies 

and uniformed citizenry 

burning them to keep warm 

while turning their ashes 

into the histories 
of fertilizer 
    and feed fill ... "

I was a squirrel once 
roadkill too 
will you remember 
anything about us 
or is this what you do  
counting sheep 
to lion fed ...

shock show direction 
weight in slow motion 
slippery slope apathy 
a demise launching  
surprising staunch 
sky believers into 
a falling mythology 
of hymns, spells 
written in 
our own 
private Bibles

we made life here
strung moments 
painted them 
rife handy gods 
and leggy wombs 
they served ... 

since though 
I've learned 
to keep my lips 
in shades of pilfer ...

what I do is lie in shape 
of the arrow that suits me 
in order to fly 
not giving a fuck 
getting out of dodge 
before any real 
bitterness takes hold 
of my ability to see past 
my even if caught 
ever so fleetingly 
ego tripping self ...

you/they/us/we 
once were all hive-d 
together can/could/now/
connives, rain to see immersion 
techniques fail to take 
and since then 
there has only been me 
big ass whoop-ing myself 
quietly between breakdown 
and parlance-d insanity 
survive it some time 
I dare thee ...

because I am certain 
of my readiness to fall ...

now ...

could you
shield me from 
conversation 
near what construes 
a truth 
or what you 
declare reality 
to you might be ...

and is that 
a somewhere 
in bound to me 
from your phalanx 
of journals, incense, 
collected tears earrings and stones 
your whistled quiet calculations 
of every spill of joy 
versus the logic 
and lament 
of Pandora-n regret ...

is it on your scratch paper too
I've already figured you 
to work redemption maybe(s) 
into someday again stilettos 
from a box of number 2 pencils ...

... what a mess 
it is we can 
make 
blessing 
ourselves 
in this kind 
of wake 
some of us 
bear more 
fault of pain 
explaining foolish 
nature as inclination 
to give in 
to a mad smile
because we're convinced 
we all know  
in this day and age 
with miles of road 
and no where to go
it is so much easier 
to place blame 
on others for being 
stuck-nest 
and loveless ...

                  who wants to eat crow 
for decades before 
       you think that 
"you stole my life away" 
scab goes away ...

... because I am sure 
I am not 
the only one 
who hungers 
for reason 
to believe 
in a blood 
to beak magic 
past these days ...


EJR ©