Saturday, May 08, 2010

Joyce Kilmer save me please - we got history

The dead stay talking to me I feel as helpless as a tree
They speak through to me
and I’m definitely not a tree
and they are most definitely dead
I’m forced to be an embossed embassy another Berlin a magnet for their raw charms or languished cries
Explaining longings telling me where he expected to be if it weren’t for this one little thing but in my dream he didn’t know he was dead he was a wannabe alive guy
Hats off to Manny
telling me his plans like everybody else
Voices vicariously strewn like spring flowers falling from boughs outside my window
The scent of dead flowers buries itself deep in my veins
I breathe it out and in
I am I am a tree
Voices from the past exist in my head I ask for more put them on play - replay fast forward exit start over again and again
The hypothesis of life over again replay
A come hither look
Think deeper
From way back to before birth infancy a fantasy I’m torn in two
Should I stay or should I go a lifetime of going ahead
instead of staying and regretting is what I do best at my own behest
I’m challenged trumped set ahead to go make that next jump if not literally than figuratively
In my head I jump a hump
Ahead to where I don’t know where I am or how I got here
Yet here I stand
A tight bright white light goes off fast in my head flashing faster red green green red yellow stop on yellow hit those brakes or barrel through it
Careful take the next step and do it
Just call me
Crashing catastrophe meets the coroner on the corner for the very last time

A shout out to Ninua at facebook's networked blogs for their tireless energy and help in keeping these blogs organized. If you're on fb so should your blog be!

A shout out to Bob at Apple for helping me solve the mystery with his tenacity and alacrity. I love apple.

A shout out to my readers: this blog is for you, the you inside that hurts and wonders about the way we choose constantly - the you and me who seeks more...

my writing is me - what you get is what you see

Joyce Kilmer and Robert Frost were the first poets I memorized in elementary school. They both wrote short poems. Even back then my mind jumped a lot and memorization was difficult. Ironically I can recall words from ancient conversations at will.