Fodder

Fodder


I know he's in there,
Head bent over his ragged notebook
Pencil flying
Letting lose his inner turmoil
Or inner angst

Fucking poets.

I'll bet my name is nowhere
On those many scribbled pages.
And if it is,
If it really is,
I'm sure I play the tormentor.

Never mind the truth.
Never mind his lies, his wounding of
My heart.

Or how I'm standing in the rain,
Neon shining off my face,
Knowing he's in there sucking off our
Ended passion
For sympathy, and in that,
Ecstasy.

I'm only fodder for a lyrical vampire.

Summer Day

Summer Day


It's a lazy day in summertime
And everything is fine
I'm sitting on my porch swing
Holding a glass of wine.

My kids are being rowdy
In the yard just over there
And gentle breezes blow around
My wisps of sweat-curled hair.

I've got dirt under my fingernails
From gardening all day long
And behind me in the trees the robins
Sing a happy song.

My husband's in the back yard
Fixing something old
I'm watching him and waiting
For him to ask ask for something cold.

I rock a little, back and forth
And smile just a bit
These are the days I hope and pray
That I will never forget.

Fruit In Autumn

fruit in autumn

fruit in autumn
plump and straining at its skin
remnants of rain
glistening on garish, desperate color

tense moments, now
sighing, sinking, fading
in orange and fire
the setting sun bestows it's eulogy

then cool and violet silence.

Suppression

suppression

some memories are wet
with purple fear
and gray regret

some are silver
masking aching, glaring red

jump over the spaces
the blanks and hidden, empty places
and close your eyes

fill them in with dreams
and lies
and other people's stories

if you believe it
long enough to make it real
you might survive
and never know the cost

The Soul Near Desperate Waters

The Soul, Near Desperate Waters

The roads we travel, burdened with life's battle scars;
our trials, tribulations, terrors
etched in trenches, carried forth on tired faces...

The roads we travel, trudging onward, carrying our loads
and looking just a step ahead, our courage
left behind in tatters; left abandoned, dead.

The dust of past pains, grit of life's strains, echoes burning in our ears...
Our throats are dry and we stopped speaking long ago.

At times we raise our eyes in hope, to gaze at the horizon
but it's so far, and we're so small;
that distant sea of rest and calm is farther than eternity

But on we go, on burning feet, with leaden legs through scorching heat
convinced that if we just keep moving, just keep walking,
just keep trudging, just keep breathing,

one day, we'll feel the soothing wind inside the soul, near desperate waters.