Off the Wall
Off the ceiling, off the road,
Off to the left or right.
Bounce a ball off a bald man’s head.
Try to start a fight.
Bleed the blood of a martyr’s cry
Tempt the siren’s beckoning call.
Keep the spirit if the fight
Comes flying off the wall.
Heed the cries, absorb the pain,
And let it drain to dry.
Scratch and claw back on the ride,
Unafraid to try.
Beat the odds when challenged to
Step up and take the fall.
Winners are survivors who
Come crashing off the wall.
It sprawls without boundaries
Mixing and matching the matchless contortions
Maligning its meaning, the interlocking pieces
That just don’t fit. Turned upside down
So you can’t see the picture,
Can’t match the colors.
Where are the corners in this portrait puzzle?
Show me the borders. I’ll find the rest
As time permits and patience allows,
If patience enters the picture at all.
Who cares if it’s flawed, in need of perfection?
Who holds up the mirror expecting to find
Not a sign of a blemish, a scar, an enigma?
Let washed away tears stain all yesterday’s sorrows.
Tomorrow’s the promise,
The ultimate prize.
It comes without knowing, a constant
Companion. The only thing sure in this free-form existence,
This life, this cathedral.
Today is what brings us to hope for tomorrow.
Maggot in the Morning
Getting past this point is the
Hardest part of the night for some.
Those mealy-mouthed minions
Sucking away the resplendent nourishment
Given of sleep.
The rejuvenation of darkness,
The silence, the stillness
Recharging the senses to speak.
Waking falls hard when the maggot
Consciousness fails although consequence knows
It’s responsibility waiting the morning.
The maggot keeps feeding, eating the darkness,
Filling its’ belly to the point of bursting,
Denying the light for as long as it can.
The Blushing Groom
You do not come to this day without fear,
Without trepidation, without doubt or woe, but
You cannot imagine your future without her,
A chasm so deep that you don’t want to know.
Who is this siren whose song so enthralls?
Whose wiles have enslaved your resistance to naught?
How have you fallen to her bold enchantment?
Is this the world of perfection you’ve sought?
Questions come quickly while answers take flight,
Slaving your soul, an unquenchable quest.
But all doubt is squelched by the lilt of her laughter.
The answer is simple. The answer is yes.
She waits in the wing, demure in her beauty.
You stand at the ready, a bundle of nerves.
Trying to catch just a glimpse of her ankle,
Knowing she’s more than you’ll ever deserve.
Somewhere there’s music to coax in the background.
Everywhere smiles adorn faces with love.
You at attention, a blush on your cheek.
Waiting. Adoring. Blessed from above.
The Weight of All Evidence
Innocent! I cried. I am the victim,
Bashed and abandoned to deep wells of scorn.
Notice the scars left to blemish my spirit,
Violent cuts my soul to adorn.
Where is the justice? If justice be served.
Who’ll cleanse my wounds and lay bindings upon all the Bleedings? The pleadings? Who stops the tears?
Where is the solace now all hope is gone?
You were my hero, pedestal-rider.
You were the pinnacle, my source of light.
Steadfast and solid, a human Gibraltar.
How could I know you would ever take flight?
The scythe of the Reaper has torn out my heart,
Hidden away someplace I may not know.
Hopeful that someday I’ll see you again.
The weight of all evidence tells me so.
Brushing Up Against Evil
Bring me my sweater to break off the chill,
Maybe a blanket to cover my shoulders.
I think I may never have felt so alone, so abandoned,
The steely breath bolder and colder.
Clenched teeth do nothing to ward off the feeling that
Something is somewhere, nowhere to be found.
Fist flexed in anguish, pumping, unpumping,
Ready to fly at the slightest sound.
Where did this come from? Where is it going?
Where can I hide til it passes away?
Ill winds, chilled winds howling in sorrow,
The voices of millions lost an afraid.
Flight would seem futile, nowhere to hide
From this eminent creature, this demon, this saint.
Pure in its way to the aspect of evil.
Searching, seeking, devouring the untainted
Hearts of the masses, one at a time.
Needing and feeding, then feeding some more.
Shield me, oh Heavens, from this branded torture.
Help me to win this battle,
V is for Vacate
I was minding my business
When all of it started,
Had no intention of mixing it in.
Had no Illusions of being its Marshall.
Wanting instead to be left alone.
I am no savior,
Not from Samaria,
Not some vast organization of charity
Bent on saving the world in its suffering.
More Mother Hubbard without a bone.
So, why was I tagged? Why me the target?
Was it just happenstance calling my name?
Much more comfortable as a mere witness,
Innocent bystander, uninvolved
In this chaotic measure thrust on my shoulder,
Caught in the middle of conflicting views.
Next time I’ll walk away, vacate the zone.
Let someone else find the strength to resolve.