Every day is a swim in a vast ocean….
one day i was a fish
swimming with many other fish
within an arctic sea.
there were so many lines;
they came from the sky
and went down
and ended in cherry plastic.
fish who bit them were pulled up
into the surface
(where we were told never to go)
i’ve heard it’s a whole new world up there.
the red was beautiful
the surface was new
(i couldn’t help it)
and rode a hook to the hole in the sky
out i shot.
who knew the surface was so free?
it’s a shame i’ll need to breathe soon.
but it’s alright; i’m just dreaming.
nobody would want a fish like me.
Like a bird, set free from my cage.
A rat who just escaped the death trap.
A lion who dodged a bullet.
A deer who outran his predator.
A sheep who outsmarted the wolf.
A dog who just gave out his first woof.
A cat who caught a butterfly and then let it free.
A girl who’s found her soul mate.
A warrior who’s come home from a bloody battle and lives to tell his tale.
A mother who holds her first child.
I feel, I feel, oh so lucky
to be born into a world
with so much to offer
with so much of depth
with so many stories
that it makes me almost miss a breath.
‘I have found a home in myself’….. says a lot
i have long fingers
yet cannot gouge my eyes
remove them from my face
place them blinking on sticks,
to see myself,
would i seem more different than by reflection
could i gaze past that aura of mine,
with crooked nose and empty sockets,
eyebrows that move often with emotion,
cheeks still broad enough with flesh
to make a face round,
hair never fashioned in any style,
attraction is a composite
would i say i was handsome or defined,
i had drunk from the social nectar
but did not conform to tradition,
i would not be photogenic
or adorn glossy magazines,
lips that kiss and hold the most warmth,
are the best feature,
once cracked and pale with cigarettes and ale
now are more fulfilled,
age has grey iodized me
salt tainted beard and hair,
my face would not be Che on t-shirts,
yet i am loved by one
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I saw cruel, cruel world & I remembered I have something that starts with Cruel, cruel Death too.
I call it DEATH… look it up.
So…I just found this poem in one of my many notebooks that I’ve filled, and it’s short but really…accurate. It amazes me sometimes, the things I come up with.
The frogs do croak
The crickets seem to chirp
As I ponder what goes on
And why things happen
In this cruel cruel world
Though still it turns
And still people burn
Because sin is but a word
In this cruel cruel world
Without a doubt we seem to ask
Why do our lives seem so vast
But when the answer is much too simple
Some doubt that they are still people
It was when you walked
alone, heels clicked
flakes of hardened skin on your lips
the little girl dropped her gummies
the mother unaware
you watched as the girl flashed
her gummy, toothless smile
her small eyes, tried to focus
on your face
out in the cold you watched the steam
rise up, people ducked and hid their faces
as you watched, it sunk in:
loneliness was again at your door
this time, this time, you welcomed it
with an open heart, it’s place
this time, it didn’t feel so bad anymore
it was freeing, it was familiar
you found, your happiness