Poetry Month

Hello, and welcome back! Once again, National Poetry Month is upon us. I know that some of you are following the plan where you write a new poem for each day of April. Let me say that this is a noble undertaking, and I wish you all the best.

As for me, my daily creative energy is currently being applied elsewhere. So I’ve decided to post a few relatively recent poems all at once instead. I’ll be back with another installment in the continuing saga of the Bear Team soon. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy these little moments, frozen in time. They certainly mean a lot to me.

 

Dead Raccoons

Curled on the shoulder
Washed in yellow light
Quiet
and still
Eternally

Off  the pre-ordained track
Floating in the stratosphere
They’re nowhere
and everywhere
and HERE!

Avoid the end result at all costs                  
Don’t take the time to stop
and smell the roses
For the scent you pick up
can indeed be fatal

Huddled on the asphalt
like a stillborn fetus
Covered in tacky fur
Another piece of the landscape
and an afterthought

Dead raccoons
by the light of the moon
unfulfilled promise
and unrealized potential
Crushed under destiny’s ever turning wheel

Decay
Disease
Insects buzzing in the heat
Sunlight
shimmering on blood spattered paint

When the going gets tough
the tough become roadkill
What lesson can be learned
when your only mistake
was crossing the street at midday?

Curled on the shoulder
Teeth bared
and claws extended
Mad at a world
which has already said its goodbye

Destiny
Oh destiny!
What  a bitch you are!
Filling the world with death
for reasons so fickle and vain

Murder
Such a narrow word
Who’s to say
where the blame should lie?
We are all guilty HERE!

Slumped in sickly grass
rotting in summer’s hellish grip
Can there be an aside to the pain?
Who’s to say?
We are all prey in the end

 

Twenty Miles to Barstow

Fifty miles to Barstow
and the sun burns overhead
When I left, the night was quiet
but that was so long ago
By now, they’ll have forgotten
I guess that’s just as well

Forty miles to Barstow
and sand rains against the glass
I whispered in her ear
things I could never say to her face
No one will ever know
that I was even there at all

Thirty miles to Barstow
and the wind whips across the plains
It was cold, oh so cold
on that February day
A moment frozen in time
Now it will never be cold again

Twenty miles to Barstow
and the glare blinds my straining eyes
Everyone used to try and sway me
from the path I chose
But the fire that burns inside me
will turn to ash before I change

Fifteen miles to Barstow
and the grasses bend and sway
It has been so very long
since I called a place my own
Drifting aimlessly from here to there;
a tumbleweed borne on an endless storm

Ten miles to Barstow
and melting asphalt clutches at my tires
She yelled at me that day
when I came home at dawn
I turned and went out again
and left without a word

Five miles to Barstow
and the temperature is in the red
I went inside that night
and watched over them as they slept
It was the last time for me
I’ve never been home again

One mile to Barstow
and the desert swallows me alive

 

Moths

Moths fluttering around a distant street lamp
They are my own thoughts;
jumbled and frantic in the dim light

Lights and sensors
filling the world with inevitability
Powerless to intercede

Once you’ve begun down this path
there is no turning back
It’s only a matter of time

Falling numbers
and fading hopes;
disappearing one after another

Moths fluttering at an unholy hour
thick as thieves
All is still in the vaccum

Shorter breath and slower heartbeat
Prayers are fewer and farther between
as the train nears the end of the track

Life grinds to a halt
No one knows what lies ahead
Silence, the only sound

Falling and falling
dropping, dropping
then stopping in the flourescent gloom

Moths fluttering around a distant street lamp
gradually dropping out of sight
never to return this night

 

 

 

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