Versmilitude

I have 3,463 reasons
to hate me
as seen through the spectacled
looking glass
learning pupils of others eyes
believing in
All truth be told

From inside the fishbowl
a ripple effect goes nowhere
waves of distortion
roll by in wakes
blown out of proportion

To see is to know
What you Do shows
I suppose
better than what you Are...
barely there
thin as a rail
hardly frail
by contrast
and that pale glow
(if you would like to know)
ghostly ashen skin
is not so thin.

Deemed some dame or debutante
with nothing to flaunt
talent, imbalance,
withstanding-
Despite the empathetic understanding
I squeezed into the mold
(as I was told)
now my metallic blood runs steely cold.

I tremble
at your thoughts of me
and the terrible what nots you see
that I cannot spot
any resemblances.

A two-way mirror
absorbs one reflection
shattering a reality
piercing in severe observation
a practice in futility
noticing the nothings
lacking depth perception
merely a dimension of what
you thought you saw
was me
was you too.



Image Guillaume Bodinier [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons. (Confession c. 1826).

From Wails to the Shuddering Sea

When I wonder

do we first think

we Are

welcome to the world?

From the abyss

of a watery womb

we hear

outside

of Us

we know

when words fail

we wail

upon arrival

into blinding light

from maternal night

Immobile and trapped

in our scaly shells

worn by the tides

we call Time

we wither

from glass to grain

too small to complain

anymore

utter

nonsense

We forget

Shards and slices

pieces of Us

that cut to the race

humanity

drops of sea

expire We

at the finish line

of memory

shuddering 

blindly

in our final victory

drowned 

in revelry.

Image By Koga Harue, Koga Harue, 1929 (died in 1933) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

How a breeze can bring you to your knees

On olfactory memory
that can catch you unawares
at the speed of smell
which is faster than that of sight
I thought
while caught
today

How the waft
of a good mood
is heavenly perfume
(or juicy fruit gum
fading with every gnawing moment
sucking it in to sap the zest out
savor the sweetness
by drinking it in)

The scent radiates below
detection, rising up to your nostrils
in a pitch to high to hear
a good mood like the tireless Sun
penetrates past pores
gets under your skin
fingertipping, taps your soul
on its sleeping shoulder

I am happy
being optimistic
letting the pessimists
handle the problems,
carry the lead
drug like dead weight
some call “fate”

I am always positive
things will work out
for someone's best
as a selfless test
whose answer is always True

I am even
elated
elevated to cloud seven
by not relying on heaven
for a hand
it doesn't have
to help me up
or out or
the 7 billion and growing
people
being negative
obsessed with doom
(chewing on juicy fruit now bland
gnawing and stewing on doubt,
instead of just spitting it out)

I often smell something burning
that's toxic
commonly applied as a caustic
solution

Then
There are days
just like these
when a single gentle breeze
suggests a smile
drips drops of adrenaline
across my bumpy skin
letting butterflies go
in dark places
where beauty should be
places nobody else can see
released and increased
the passing smell of happy
arranged amidst
a mixed bouquet of crappy.

My soul remembers
smells like these well
made of unmemorable stuff
that never lasts long enough
like fading flavor
tasteless and gone
with the wind.



Image By John William Waterhouse, 'At the Shrine', 1895 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The Fall (Haiku)

Inevitable

the onus of gravity

facing Truth and Time




Image By Kusakabe Kimbei [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Cue the line (Haiku)

Hung in suspension

a marionette of me

doing the limbo




Image By Daderot (Own work) [Public domain or CC0], via Wikimedia Commons.

Thorn Tree

I see the lack of resemblance
like you
I am nothing like my parents
despite always wearing my favorite genes
that fit like a glove
I still love
them
like kin.

Inherited place cards
occupy our dwelling
in life
and death,
where assigned
I never did mind...
until the differences
became clearer
than the need to be near
the trunk of the family tree.

Oil and vinegar
I live separate and away
in my own impermeable cell.
Peaceful and joyous, limitless,
I stored no blame
that my aim was just further
than their eyes could go
Alone, I continue to grow.

Mom made her bed
I said in my head
noticing her envious stare
his following her with a glare.
Stepdad's always mad,
but I'm glad for what I had-
pushing me far away,
finding my freedom today,
to say
it couldn't be any other way.

It is said I will turn into you
by the age of forty-two,
but my posture is still perpendicular,
my vernacular is particular
to my own family, future forward
I step into the newest version
of heredity conversion
with relational aversion.

The carving of a new generation
an artistically starved creation
the recipe for degeneration
juxtaposed by gestation
inherently bound by cessation
the state of our familial relation,
recessive by genetic translation.


 Image credit: By Luca Galuzzi (Lucag) [CC BY-SA 2.5 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.5)], via Wikimedia Commons, Thorn Tree, Namib Desert, Namibia.

Dinosaur Footprints

I have been gone
I was here
there
and
then
returning around
full circle through the loophole
suspending my rate of travel
to notice
now
anti-matter
wrapping my grey matter
around black matter
warped by white
the speed of light
taut with tension
pulled along a string
holding onto an inkling
a rope, a noose
to the letter T
a man hangs
swinging on his vine
ape-time-pendulum

I glance back
after collecting the
pitch morning dew
stuck on my soul and shoes
I stare intently
fixated
casually noting
the wide open gait
a first impression
that lasts
until
the mark
I made
is swallowed by exposure
atom slurping condensation
rising under pressure
of erasure
immersion
absorption

Then I was never there
I see where my wide left stride
travels through time
traceless
all over the space.

Back to reality,
the boomerang wanders
where I vacillate
and see
saw
between
cat gifs
and hieroglyphics,
making long To do lists.


Image By Augustus Binu/ www.dreamsparrow.net/ facebook (Own work) [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0)], via Wikimedia Commons.