Home

              The grass in vacant fields,
trees abandoned to sorrow,
know nothing of green.

Sparkling, flowing, river,
azure morning heavens,
know nothing of blue.

             Unstable and wandering,
Perilous solitude,
I know nothing of home,
Until I come back to you.

               Lonely winter nights,
and the thieves it harbors,
know nothing of cold.

                        Rooms filled with friends,
                        the hearth blazing,
                        Know nothing of warmth.

            Shifting shores,
                        and lost at sea,
                        I know nothing of home,
                        Until I come back to you.

             My journey has led me astray,
                        My ship docked at strange ports,
                        The dirt road only goes two ways,
                        A sign labeled home and sickness.

          Shifting shores,
                        and lost at sea,
                        I’ve now found home,
                        I’m coming home to you.

On Eternity

On Eternity

Wrapped in layers of darkness,

A search cut short.

Unfinished business forever,

If we could truly grasp forever.

Fiction will tell us that utopias always fail.

Heaven is alluring to some,

But all I see is the eternal punishment of life.

Tears may fall, but like the rain

They will disappear on the morrow.

The sun may set in the west

But only a closed eye can

Witness a supernova.

Benevolence

Benevolence

The air’s concerned murmurings

Turn into explosions of greens and violets as

Excited radios can barely keep up

With the panicked voices.

Black dread creeps up on the masses

Like an army of centipede legs

Moving out of order, confused.

Seconds mean nothing

The meaning of time, time lost.

The flashing of teeth, white in the sun

Wrinkles of experience can’t save us now.

The little boy threw a tantrum

But the fat man, benevolent;

Ten thousand degrees of God

Gone wrong.

Nature’s Fury

Nature’s Fury

Nature’s fury forks through the air,

Deafening lonely souls below.

Trouble sires three not only a pair,

Boredom or deception, a third cock will crow.

Moisture will seep in the tightest safe,

Corroding the most faithful heart.

Unwanted and abandoned you left me a waif,

You turned betrayal into an art.

Suits and Ties

Suits and Ties

            The only marks were twin tire tracks leading up to my car. This is technically considered a bad neighborhood but the iron gates encapsulate the compound like a fortress. I’m the first person to show up. The cold is refreshing on my face and I can feel the snow crunch under my boots. My door banging shut seems to echo a few times before I’m completely enclosed in peaceful silence. The lamplights emanate cool glows that create circles of light in the otherwise twilit parking lot. This is the Ford Research and Development center where I plow snow for a living during the winter months.
            A good deal of snow has fallen tonight and it has created a flat mantle over the streets and sidewalks. The sparkling white hides what’s really beneath. If one didn’t know the area, they wouldn’t know if they were on a crosswalk or even if they were walking atop one of the two ponds. After carefully salting and physically walking along almost every inch of pavement, I have come to know this place intimately. It won’t be long till the rest of the snow crew shows up to shape the land for the morning workers. We are like poets who take the obvious and form it into something beautiful. Not like the workers themselves. After we are done they will come through and turn the snow to black and brown with their exhaust and cigarette butts. They never see the raw beauty of nature and take clean sidewalks for granted.

            They don’t have time to exchange pleasantries or “good mornings” and they’ll even go to the other side of the street just to avoid looking at us. Sometimes they even take out their phones and fake conversations just until they pass me by. I’ve never met such a rude group of people before in my life. They seem to be miserable instead of content to be working at a high paying job. They can have their suits and ties and their corner offices though. I will continue to be behind the scenes and smiling. If they are drowning in what nature has thrown at them I will learn to swim and be one with it.

Derailed

Derailed

As the train rolled in,

In perfect time,

My penny of thoughts,

Derailed it to the cadence,

Of a funeral drum.

The thumping of the drum,

Evident in your chest,

Hypochondria now justified,

My digits deliciously at fault.

Rain may fall,

My forecast says sunny skies,

It’s all conjecture anyways,

Officials dictate our lives with uncertainty.

Lightning strikes up,

Tearing the heavens in two,

For an instant,

Everything is lucid.