2012年 May 12日 Saturday, 8:11

rock a bye infantile, tender to touch and voices carried heavily burdening this dark night. reading between lines for positive proof that actions were adequate. crowned queen bee, points and laughing to distraction, trips, sprawls out on the stage. no harness to contain her rage.

peacock fans florescent feathers on display. attention diverted like a small ditch to bring water to a thirsty nation. winding through dirty, dusty fields saturate with disease, quench throats in desperation.

trained monkey tricks eager eyes to clap when surprised, and amused… the jester back flips, picks pockets, performs for the court. stuffing faces just dessert. disappear in a cloud of smoke.

cram the knowledge in a knap sack, tied to a stick, thumb a ride, box car side door, leap of faith, heart raced. heads west, frozen fingers massage glass flask, whiskey warms the blood, pumped to this heavy head, sending mixed signals to the soul…. better than cold soup in a broken dust bowl.

barricade the sliding door, crates containing cheap goods, pushed out, splintered match sticks scatter the tracks, breadcrumbs for forgetful minds return to promised lands, plagued with famine, all the salmon skins ripped off by hungry wasteful bears passing through. eggs laid in a sea too warm to spawn, next years crop is surely gone.

persistent swarms chomp springs debut. burdens best left to bare by hardened husband's wives. history quilted bedspreads shook out spread to remove wrinkles, retell the sober somber steps of lives left to till these empty fields.

men enlisted for slave trade, best bodies bought by wealthy plantation owners… hope pollinates clover. honey runneth over, like the rivers which flood the banks, stripped like minerals, roll downhill, powered wings, catch wind to run the mill. crush the grain like mothers dreams in homelands far far away.

freedom elusive, hangs like dust, marks the spot, where antique music box on dresser sat. 40 years gone, carnival prized. played melody's sound track. faded memories of wandering band of gypsies. crowned jewels buried deep beneath tattered sheets.

will reunite at the pearly gate. dont be late. anticipation brings much needed rain. floods the plain. prayers answered for times being. penetrated nightmares, defeated gods enemy. giants retreat. plant the seed wrapped safe in handkerchief. settle down, start over. losses will spring new hopes.

and so it begins next door to where it ends. and if you complete a circle then you will never hear a newborn cry, or an old mans last breath. its all the same. burial wraps, precious linens, turned to dust. kneel at the alter where loved ones passed.

cradles crafted from old oaks, chopped to clear the land, settle down prosper, fathers command. pilgrims know little what lies beyond the border. stories wither like flowers from celebrations of heavy crops harvested in autumn.

mammoth undertakings evade our bid for manhood, now turn the knife on our brothers from boredom. urge remains the same, to slice the throat of threats and honor worn like a crown of thorns to attract a perfect mate. no time to date. betrothed, bequeathed, and so the world spins.

time stands still, as pretty ballerina twirls. sitting ducks on pond plucked off like feathers, tied tightly together, to dust precious needful things… adventures stagnated. maddening movements trace paths through daily routines. nothing matters. spoiled goods. spared no expense. to sit here staring out leaded window panes at crippled desires nipped in buds before blooms inspire.