off the merry go round

one fine day i wake up sleeping
oblivious to your song
my heart and curtains that had been shredded
in the dawn light reborn
as the ground beneath my feet stop spinning
i see your dazzlingly colourless merry-go-round
have your new shoes, and games and parties
keep running towards the glittering, beckoning calls,
would rather have my unshapely hopes, and fears and falls
my closed circles, my square shoulders, my empty wallet and heart
for lately i have seen, and measured, and shudder to think
how hard the fall from that spinning high horse would have been
what late stabbings would have taken these vessels apart,
if life had not played its wisely cruel part.

The Fire

Velvety embers stroked into the feel of a warming, un-numbing glow
A million little twinkles of myopic vision- encrusted, fire particle jewels
Purple and green and all that’s in between
Dry burns the branch that hung from the low enough bough
Its not cold, just a shiver chill
Swallowing the night air, not always the bitter pills
Yet. Again. A meandering wander of the mind. I think . I feel. I tuck in my cold heel.
Rambling again, the thoughts talking inside the head, enclosed in whispers.
Here, I am me. But it’s not like a part that’s still there, will cease to be.
The nagging thorns, the sudden spurts of energy or withdrawal.
That lingering taste of acidic, tongue burning, truths and lies.
The bittersweet symphonies I left behind.
Its healthy though , too much not to read.
Into the scenes and behind them,
Today, tomorrow, maybe a month into the life of this well watered , growing tree.
Its better still, to let ebb and flow. Bask in that glow. Slow burns always smoke.
Let it be.

remind me when its gone

as life unraveled around her resigned, stooped, frame,
the voice echoed,
the one that said,
you had it and you never knew,
and now its as good as dead,
a mere shadow, that tired feet tread.

nightfall

it was night
and it had not yet rained
instead the drip drip of whispered words heard
hearts and minds clenched in clasped hands
the fallen and the risen in one sad embrace
the parting leaves, rustled in agreement
silent winds lent a ear
no questions asked. no complications of answers
just soft pulses and heartbeats in scattered, unmatched patterns
it all fell, if not into place
into the leaping flames of memory making fire
phoenixes live another day
while blackbirds live in songs that the goodbye people play

the big kablooie

in the silence of the noisy night
the clock ticking tickathon
the breath ran short, ran out
and in a moment of insensible sense numbing lightlessness
the grenade fell, and the dam broke
and it was blinding light before dawn

the hands went to the shell shocked mouth
words spilled out of splintered shells
and the casualty was that conscious heart
red-bled into the cobwebbed alley
the carpet of the whiskey coloured thread spun round and round
the camouflage served not the wearer
gun slung on the broken bones
and casts and cast in stone mingle
some kind soul went looking for the healing potion
convinced it would bring on utopian stupor
yet the truth
it was clear as day
obvious too, that war was over...no skirmish even
winner takes it all, loser has to fall

just a bit

just a little broken
just a little crooked
just a bit of bitter in the evening cup of tea
just that pinch of salt too much with the tequila, by the sea
just that one flash of wry-oh so dry grins
just a touch of almost fallen fear
but its relieved-belief, its not tears
just a bit of lemony-melody time, a swig or two,and a few mattress jumping sprees
just so, just right again, we shall see....

en-trenched musings of the scholarly- scared soldier

so changes are in order
congratulations maybe not
its too late, says, one side...the other...you childishly optimistic dreamer..but oh so sweet tongued, suspected but tempting,tempting liar
but never say never forever
come on just pull the damned trigger
and alice will fall, and the rabbit will run
and mad hatter shall look in the eye the midday sun
the eyes will follow, and self be seen
need to adjust the blotted screen
was that the gunfire sounding sound of trials?
the soldier read the map, but boy, did it it read all wrong
the clock ticks, so precious every hour
its time..has been,for long,forlon....
so july rush and charge,skirmish no more, lists and all
collect the dues of last spring, summer and fall
winter was, still is and likely to not give up...cloudy with chance of waterfalls..
ammunition- faulty
motivation- check
direction- check
desperation- check
support- negligible
need- plenty
time - short supply
so hike ahead, take the trek, the cautious tread
this time ultimatum
henceforth pity gives in to fear,real battles fairy dust
the talisman broken, lifeboat rocks....swimming is the only way to the shore
henceforth the words no longer dark deep windows
shelves more like it,tracks and fishing tackle
the ship shall sail, and sink it wont
this time its different
this time its war...