The Rock

                                                      

There lies before me

A great boulder

I stumble upon

Blemished  yet smooth

Primed and ready

For me to take the fall

This meandering obstacle

Bold and obtrusive

Lewdly it awaits

As I plunge and purge forth

Blinded by misdirected zeal and passion

Rebellious and undeserving

I placate

Appreciate the chill

Of the soft smooth surface

The cold against my cheek

I weep

And clasp the crevices

Pondering the purpose of this slab

In  my path

I waver

Succumbing to the hunger

And tears.

Remedy

The haunted mausoleum

Where prayers are numb

That's exactly what it reminds me of...

The damp dark-lit place

We traipse to every Wednesday night

Hobos and seekers alike

Grimace through the halls

This time

Tie dye clown colors

Splattered and wearing nary  a sheepish grin

Rather a desolate heart-sick cry

I drop her there

To share the secrets

Of a thousand walls

Where a thousand lives went before

If you listen carefully

You hear the voices

And see the doe eyes

Of wanton bodies

Shrieking before

Yearning for someone to give them a glance

Just a chance

As they continue to grapple with their world

Lips locked in secret silent solitude. 

Crippling Composition

Life is hard sometimes

It just is

When you get behind the glitz and glam

You realize it

Complicated and rambling

Pieces of a jigsaw puzzle

All mixed up and scattered

One corner trying to fit into another

A jumbled cardboard pathetic mess

Frayed edges and subdued colors

In a hue that doesn't make sense.

Aren't you glad that you are not the one

Who is called upon to make reason of the shades?

Tumbling and frantic

Sorting trying

Trying so desperately to put the portions

Back together

Transforming them into a formation

Of matter

Which matters.

On days like this I'm glad I'm not the

Head Chef

The Judge

That I don't foresee

A representation of the future

What I can do is tenderly sigh

Knowing a hand is at work

Not mine

Putting the formats into array

And sequence.

Orchestration production

And melodrama at its best.

Unknown

The elusive trees speak to me

Under the black ice.

Strictly forbidden

Do not enter.

Do not pass go.

I dare not venture

Out into the  evasive forest

The land of the desolate .

An ostrich speaks.

Buries his head in the fast fallen snow

Frozen

Unable to immerse

Drowning in its sorrow.

Pure helplessness

As she trots down slippery slopes

Not trudging

But slickly sleeting

And speeding

Into the snare

Human lust

And control.

Unable to regard

Or behold

The branch above

Ready to pounce

And slice through

Cutting the skin.

Dare not tread tomorrow.

Laundromat

                                                                                                            

Yellowed limestone cracked tile tinged with yesterday’s mildew.

Cramped sweaty waiting for monotony to begin.

The sound of coins crashing,

Agitation rotating out of control.

Throbbing and thrashing against the revolve.

Voyeur mind wandering tomorrow’s prospects.

A hint of seduction, the mind pants…breathless.

In an attempt to sit surreptitiously among the onlookers.

Nondescript nonverbal body craving for but a glimpse.

To envision prominent pinnacle amid the heights of attraction.

Sweet, sinister fraudulent conversation.

A gentle laugh, a flowing of the limbs,

As banter embraces the moment.

Snow Globe

Deception, Distortion

Conceptions alike

The Fun House Mirror

Glares at me

But I refuse

To fall into its perception.

A sphere of myths

The bitter gall

Is tasted in my mouth.

Feet planted firmly

I press forward

Unwilling to believe

To perceive.

If one could learn from the stallions...

Enfold life with innocence and hope

Unemcumbered

Refuse to throw the Cinderella Ball

Abandoned

And let it come tumbling

Down the stairs

The glass shards a paradox

Of delusive crystals.

I want to believe in the delicacy beyond

To preside once more

The quiet sprinkling

Of a soft shimmer

A whisper of harmonic refrains

Supple to the soul.

                                                

Cantina

Ahh the sweet smell of salsa!                             

A dark room of forlorn smiles.

Women lost in a world of confusion.

Embracing a celebration.

Yet  enamored by the glimpse of another.

A kind one reaching out.

To bridge the gap of a young lady.

A melodic gentlemen.

Sharing his heart if just for a moment. 

Hidden in a napkin the depths of her soul.

He shows interest in what will never be. 

She seduces.

Deducts without reasoning this road will not travel.

Sounds of Latino music fill the air.

Chatter of the present. Heartaches and hopes.

Subtle smooth flowing. Quiet din in the air.

Dark tables, hands touch.  Warm fingers.  Caress the soul.

Memories of another time, another place.

Such contrast. Such similarity. 

Held fondly.  Never spoken.  Never shared.

A number secluded in the past of the road less traveled.

Forever in the clasp of her hand.