Not Fur but Fin

April 16

Not Fur but Fin

You can’t delay the river, I’ve tried, all it does is distort. I block the flow and swamp ensues, mighty oaks waist deep in water. The current is strong and I fear being swept away, not realizing I was born to swim. Dreading the swim back for spawn I try to stay too close to my origins, never make it to open water, never to live the life I was intended for. I’ve heard it said, “Don’t push the river it flows by itself,” but I can’t stall it either.

Line up the little endearments offered you

*

FEEDING THE MONSTER

Who will feed the monster, once they’ve made her?

Her hunger burns in her like a beacon

Should I let her starve?

Should I put her on rations of old crust and tepid water?

Rebuke her as if she were her own idea

Possibly bind her hands and cover her eyes

Stand her in line with the good girls and fit her in

Turn her visage from her desire and tell her to forget?

Hold her hand and tell her that’s enough?

When I stand in the face of her yawning hunger

What do I say---It's for your own good?

Well that's what THEY said too.

Jenny

February 19

Jenny

Though ignorance may be bliss, living in the shadow of someone else’s ignorance is sheer hell. The confusion is bad, but the lies are worse. Want to cripple a child for life give it to a well meaning fool who has the rule book to the wrong board game, that child will grow to need crutches they don’t make and medicine they can’t brew. Dependant on misguided insanity the child will require a miracle cure and may lack the ability to ingest it. Best case scenario the kid makes a brave escape into a world she can barely comprehend, worse case she turns the rule book upside down and reads it backwards to her own unfortunate brood. Ignorance is always a twilight proposition, half agreement the other half handcuffed nightmare. Full consent is by necessity impossible while blameless innocents is similarly unachievable. The only suggestion I can make from this side of the looking glass is to pick your poison and plan your getaway.

Rain encouragement down in your dreams

*

TIME IS HERE TO STAY

I have passed my days emptying them.
Like bread crumbs on a trail of rescue
Expecting them to facilitate redemption
And if not that at least retreat.

I release an audible sigh
As I let each evening slip to the path behind me
The future I view as a cliff I am nearing
I hope to be ransomed before the edge.

I plan carefully how to stay in sync with revision
Things must be resolved and revert
But this is not the way.
The past is there to be mined.

Inert gold as well as land mines linger beneath the surface
The days stream on.
I am not nearing the limit
I am shrinking from hope.

I turn my eyes from expectancy with a shutter
Deeply, I realize I must leave my fairytale life
And walk away with my days in my pocket
A treasure------mine to spend.

A Verse to the Wise

September 28

A Verse to the Wise

Encoding truth into poetry makes reality survivable by giving readers the opportunity to dig truth up like diamonds. Throwing certainty in peoples faces like cold water give them a wake up call but nothing to embrace. The beauty of semaphore is the dance that need not be understood by everyone who sees it. Communication through device leaves headroom and breathing space while acceptance might be reached. The current of a conversation often leads me to face the facts, but a tsunami of candor could drown me.

Exhaust reaction with reason

*

DENY ONE---DENY THE OTHER

If you want to deny the problem

By necessity you must deny the solution.

Resolving a problem whose existence is rejected

Creates a split in the crust of collusion.

Often times the convolution and reconvolution of addiction

Causes a bloated roiling mass

That rolls through the streets of sanity.

How can a wedge be cut in a creature so dense.

How can I work on piecing together remedies

When I am readily assured by fellow sufferers

There is NO DISEASE?

Can I trust my personal depletions?

Can I employ faith to a resolution

When faith is utilized to fortify

The contagion I/m told doesn’t exist

But if not faith what?

Do You Hear That Sound?

September 10

DO YOU HEAR THAT SOUND?



I was running on empty and thought I was getting along that way but the smoke gave me away. My life had caught on fire and I burned it to the ground. I thought nothing had been apparent until it all lay in ashes. My sponsor said, “no, we all knew when your tank ran dry. The sucking sound could be heard for miles around.”
I asked her, if that were true, why I hadn’t heard it myself?
She said, she guessed I had my denial turned up too loud.


Box a gift to be set free at a later date.