I’ve walked in the house of 10,000 socks

Right in the center of the room was

a checkerboard clock

From zig zag, polka dots, solid and all the colors from the rainbow

I couldn’t believe what I saw and had no where to go

Piles and piles, stacked up next to the walls

Socks everywhere and down the hall

When the clock struck nine it made a rambunctious noise

From the very top bursted 10,000 tiny toys

The socks begin to move and out came the Zentals

I couldn’t believe what I saw, they seemed very kind and all very gentle

They played and played until it was dark

They were very nice and had big hearts

The Zentals were giving and very caring

They had wonderful manners and understood sharing

They crawled back into the socks and turned off the lights

You could hear 10,000 Zentals saying good night!

Stumbling into a fuzzy

and sanitized brainstorm

Watching the fury

leave stains where the mime

inside placed his hands

on the four by four box

Chatter dissolves

Blood clots stricken

Nonstop convulsions

A falling stigma is spread

like dust on the tricks

of my broken down mind

Fears wallow

Doubt hangs like tree branches

in a distraught hurricane

Analytics in bold

Emotions shredded

Wiping away the dirt from

my cynical and distant eyes

Leaving the mime inside

cry like a new born baby

Constantly misunderstood

A misguided circus fumbling

through the fog

A part of me is the feather

of a soaring bird

Never falling to the ground

without direction

Grasping the words of the prayer

Sent to God from a letter

Please save the mime


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Gliding into a smog

Pouring firewater into a shot glass

Exchanging gossip over

mixed drinks wrapped around

a mesmerizing saxophone

Overheating remarks on Socrates

Reciting lines from the book of Proverbs

Observing the couple in the

deep chocolate booth sipping

on luscious martinis and chain smoke

to the sound of the rhapsody

Entwined notes and soulful galore

Hypnotized to his shuffling feet

As he sways back and forth

Nicknaming him Jazz Brown

A entertainer in the center of the heart

Playing for thousands over decades

Married to his sweet saxophone

A classic vantage

Perceptions gauzed in antiques

Edges of photographs crinkle

Rustic but euphoric

Art history in sight

Words written from thick blood

Deep appreciation of jazz

Grasping the top notch pen

Refined and elegant

Dressed in sophistication

Adoring her exquisite tongue

Artistic in the hurricane soul

Tasting the vintage ink


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I wallow in the paraphrases and the ick of December. Wintery trees remind me of childhood and what use to be. Today the misery and solitude linger in the brisk air. I no longer grasp and hold onto affection. I took a walk and could see my reflection in the mangled trees. Branches scattered like my frozen thoughts. I stand still as depression settles deeper. No one wants to stand from my perspective. I despise the winter and hollow chill. No one cares. I use to crave to feel. I stare into the paragraphs and emptiness flows. No one cares. I don’t ask why I am alive. I ask when will you take me out of my misery?

Eyeballing the coordinates

Interpreting and measuring the angles

Shoveled efforts plead cases

in the clay and dim ground

Removed discussions and grief

Presenting facts and disregarding

lethal gut wrenching emotion

Pulling left to be right

Pushing right to be wrong

Winning is irrelevant and misguided

Grazing thoughts of compassion

Understanding points of view

Too much gray between black and white

Indecisiveness stands still

One sided lie

Two sided truths

Equal broken indifferences and shadows

I’ve offered you a ship and you offer me a canoe

I’ve offered you a dozen roses and you offer me a dandelion

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a plate of everything and you offer me a morsel

I’ve offered you a road and you offer me a unpaved narrow path

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you a tree of gold and you offer me a stained branch

I’ve offered you a notebook and you offer me a page

Sadness is a trigger

I’ve offered you barrel of ink and you offer me a ballpoint pen

When I’m gone my written words will say it all

Foolish and dumb I crumble

Stuck in a wrecking atmosphere

Drifting out of consciousness

Wishes fall beneath my feet

I can’t move

A jolt of discomfort shatters within

Starring at discolored fragments

Crying romance bellows forgiveness

Dropping rights and wrongs

I can’t move

Dying to be understood in tired eyes

All I absorb are tears and rain

wearing a chain of animosity

through a howling river

I can’t move anymore


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Like a light kite in the sky

waving at the landscapes

Adoring God’s creations

from the ground to the

feathers and trees

Flying like a hummingbird

raptured in his point of view

Watching statues and waters

from an eagles eye

Tranquility prances in the

honeysuckle breeze

Harmony is held in

Cupid’s hands

All in all beauty surrounds

us like a circle

We just have a choice

to see it

Wider than a bulldozer

Enormous sight for hungry eyes

Long and gigantic

Bigger than her mouth

Generous and gigantic

A massive gesture curved

Grand and sizable

Staring at the abundance

Curious as a small kitten

Wondering in delight

Glaring at the immense

Extravagant and humongous

Gawking at the thickness

Fixated on the strength

A portion leaps to be inquisitive

Blushing inside and out

Intensity risen beyond its heights

I hold the most intimate

possessions

I hold your “personal” items

I hold your fixes and thoughts

I hold your chocolate

at the crack of midnight

I hold your lip gloss and chapstick

I hold the second volume

of your cherished diary

I hold items that give you something

that your husband can’t

I’m terrified

to inhale your naked skies

I’m terrified

to kiss your illuminating scars

I’m terrified

to wipe away your violent tears

I’m terrified

to capture your torn heart

I’m terrified

to feel your dirty rain

I’m terrified

to hold on to your numb hand

I’m terrified

to feel a love that I didn’t know existed

I’m terrified

to hear the symphony in your sea

I’m terrified

to walk alone on this broken road

I’m terrified

to stand at the turns in this landscape


*Dewy Place had requested this title.

I’m alone and sleeping in the cavern

I’m alone and sleeping in the gloom

And never do I cry

I’m alone and sleeping in the dusk

I’m alone and sleeping in the morning

And never do I bleed

I’m alone and sleeping in the twilight

I’m alone and sleeping in my coffin

And never do I pray

I’m alone and sleeping in the screams

I’m alone and sleeping in the silence

And never do I laugh

I’m alone and sleeping in the scars

I’m alone and sleeping in the obscurity

And never do I change