The Puppeteer

Some days

I feel like my string is breaking

A string so tattered

So frayed

I’m surprised it still holds me at all

The others

You see

Have all broken

The Puppeteer is starting to lose control

But was he ever really in control?

Maybe, just maybe

He’s been cutting them

One by one

Slicing my strings so slowly

So as for me not to notice

Watching me struggle

Is far more entertaining

Now

I sway back and forth

Looking upwards, I look

At what’s left of my string

For

I’ve found myself

At the end of my rope

So I wait

As the clock hands move swiftly through the good parts of the day

Yet slow

Barely a crawl

When the world is coming down on my shoulders

For

Life’s hourglass has dropped another grain

Bringing me closer to the end

But the city still seems alive

Like nothing’s wrong with my string that’s almost broken

Cars move along the freeway at night

Their dull glowing headlights

Look like a river of fireflies

A smeared glowing line of life disappearing off in the distance

And the mornings never stop for the weary

They move along like rats in a maze

On their way to work for their boss to belittle them

To school, to learn nothing about art 

To play, to have fun with others

All keep moving past me

As I wait watching with worry filling my eyes

At the last threads of my sting unwind

And the Puppeteer grins with his crooked smile

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

Insulted By Ignorance

You know you’re insane, don’t you?

The sheep said to me with an overjoyed tone

As he wore the latest fashion

You see, it’s important to them

To have a question mark followed by

An in-style smile

I couldn’t blame him really

The other sheep were looking on

And oh

How tempting it must be

For this lamb to win their approval

My reply

What is insane?

Is it doing what you really want to do in this life?

Wearing what’s comfortable?

Saying what needs to be said?

Even when you know it makes you an outsider?

Standing up for the ones

So beaten down

They can no longer stand at all?

If this makes me insane

Well, I guess

I’m truly mad

Now runaway, little lamb

Back to your flock

They wait for your latest update

Like Piranhas waiting for the next to fall

 

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

Storm Chaser

Don’t engage the storms of stupidity

You’re not going

To change the minds of the narrow minded

The small minded

The Dullards

If you chase these storms

You’re going to get wet

Washed in negativity

Drown by the weight of their tiny minds

Pulling you under like an undertow

For the storm’s creators

They are always unhappy

They will never understand

Folks that are different

Yes, they are kings in their own little worlds

But

They can have their kingdom and all the misery that comes with it

For life is way too short

To not feel the sunrays on your skin

The wind on your face

And the freedom of being yourself

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

The Wolf Who Watches Over Me

The wolf says

“Maybe some of those coins ran through

The hands of your friends up here

Like messengers from the future

To let you know

You will never be alone.”

I reply

“I don’t believe, I’ll ever be alone

Now that you watch over me.”

You see

Her eyes are not only dark with shadowed night mystery

They see more than what’s right before her

Barriers do not exist for the wolf

When she shuffles her cards

They’re merely translucent boundaries

Allowing her to see the unseen 

Unimaginable to the average

To the spiritually lost at sea

But for me

The mother of cups

Wraps her feathered wings around me

Guides me to follow my heart

And the wolf says she sees me softly stepping beside her

When the snow is thick on the ground

Two spirits twirling in existence

From bodies thousands of miles apart 

Now

While moon washed magic

Blankets the night

I fall

From conscious to unconscious

I’m dreaming

My eyes race back and forth under their lids

The wolf is right there to greet me

We stroll on the cracked stone sidewalks of the future

In a world most likely coming to an end

I call out to the crowd

The crowd I call out to

Saying, “We poor souls

Have been bagged as vagabonds

By the normal fringes of society!”

The people had become nothing more than nomads

Wandering about

Trying to find anything close to what used to be

The wolf said, “We should dress to amuse them

Help take their minds off the present.”

She then held my hand as we walked

Through the darkness

Protecting me with all of her magic

For she travels across stars to seep into my spirit

The wolf

Who walks among my dreams 

The first part of this poem in quotations comes from an email written by Liz Worth to me. After reading it, I realized even in emails, a poet speaks poetically, and her words of kindness that day were the perfect start to this poem.

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

 

Karma

Karma is a flower

The most beautiful of all flowers

When it blooms

Its colors burst into a barrage of striking truth

So stunning in their perfection

While they open

Open and show truth without blindfolds

Without mask  

No amount of closing your eyes will stop their blossoms

From opening for the world to see

For this flower of karma shows

Exactly what it’s been fed

Good

Bad

Truth

Lies

Giving

Taking

Using

Helping or hurting

This flower will show it all

A perfect reflection for all to see  

Even the serpent from the Garden of Eden

Could not convince anyone otherwise once it blooms

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

Still Shadows

Black wolf shadows

Cast wide mouths in the moonlight

For the Gargoyles have now come to life

Climbed down the castle’s walls

To move about with me

Among us they crawl on all fours

Gnashing their teeth

Under the most beautiful smile

The wind sends warnings of their trickery

Whipping red colored leaves

Tearing them from their branches

Never again will they feel

The life of the tree flow through them

Yet, they’re finally free to blow about in the wind

For sometimes

We have to be torn from

What we believe is giving us life

To realize free is the only way to live

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling

Silver Panes Of Glass

Teardrops fall like mirrors from my eyes

Like panes of glass

They fall with reflections of my life

Sliding down my cheeks

One after the other after the other

Turning off what you internalize sometimes proves difficult

For what you’ve soaked in

Was

The day before, a flood of drowning proportions  

A cesspool of lies

Pushing relentlessly against a lonely levy of truth

One, by one, by one

The lies gather

Till the levy can’t hold any more   

Spider cracks

Fine as Asian silk begin to form on its wall

Then the drips of untruths seep through

Drip, by drip, by drip

They fall, fall, fall

Then comes the moans

Cries from the other side

Whispers from the other side

Reassurances that all is better than ever

Little lies turn to fire-breathing dragons

Impossible to believe

The lies will flow from their mouths

Worthless words you want to believe

‘Cause they sound better than the truth

This poem is from my book : Petals Falling