An Honest Day’s Work

What is an honest day’s work? Certainly not what happens here. It all feels so hollow. So… inconsequential. Nothing really happens here. Numbers go up, numbers go down. Meetings all day, every day. Nothing really changes. Same thing. Day in, day out. Sit at a desk. Walk to get coffee. Back to the desk. Maybe take a vacation at the end of the year. Go to Bali or Cancun. Whatever. No adventures, no quests, no treks. Back to the office, back home, clacking keyboards and haughty metronomes. A building full of cardboard cutouts that never seem to wither or fold. All oblivious to the pain that lies underneath a thin veneer of niceties and falsehoods told and retold until hearts give out and cubicles are emptied.


Faring Not So Well

Almost as if

The feeling itself

That being numb

It might be better

But whether it’s the former or the latter

Here I sit

Dreaming of forgotten malls

And Taj Mahals

Wishing I could feel something other than the one that gnaws

At my heart

At my bones

On my mind

And on my toes

Can you hear them?

Can you feel them?

Phantoms and spectres

Invisible

Screaming

Begging

My heart, it begs the question:

“Love me?”

Painting In The Park

What a beautiful day to paint in the park. Sitting here with my two friends painting and listening to music. I paint a campfire and serpent under a starry sky. I feel the cool air and the grass under my fingers, canvas under my brush. Dandelions dot the shaggy fields of green clovers, shining up and into me like stars shine down on particularly clear night. The purple padding of an open guitar case starkly contrasts these greens and yellows, an idiosyncrasy in a field of found flowers. I can’t believe I woke up hungover.


Hangover

My head’s hurt

So brief and so curt

Hard to put together

Birds of a feather

I can’t think

Fearing now that i should sink

Lost forever, deep in the drink

Missing against a backdrop sewn from mink

Protagonist

Antagonist

Both atop the list

Either way you’ve got the gist

Ein Geist

A spirit or a ghost

Caught in a vice

How gracious a host

Birds scream and sing outside the window

As grass in the wind winnows

A cold day today

There through the window, Sunshine, A ray!

Probably 6:45?

Busy, busy, busy. So much to do, so little time. Yanked in every direction by the passing threads and hands of everything and everyone who’d simply like to reach out. Many thoughts and many feelings fly about in my head, rushing one way or another, always making sure their near misses are just close enough to give me a heart attack. I do hope you enjoy the poem today. What a wonderful day it is.


Sinisterium

How the bell tolls

Sounding at the hour

Not to mark the time

But something much more dour

That taste in your mouth

Errant vicissitude

Turn from sweet to sour

Ashes then and ashes now

Ring around the Rosie

And we all fall down

A cacophony of sirens

Binding men in liar’s irons

See there so hidden in the fog

There the pyres, there the pylons

Sinister in their construction

Obscure in their function

Can you hear them shrieking?

Can you hear their desperation?

Mark the date

For your infernal consultation

I set the scene

You play the part

Watch right there

Shadows in the dark

Let’s Do It, Let’s Fall In Love

Consider it, my friends. To be in Paris in the 1920s, to escape and find that magic! To take it and bring it back to the present to find yourself and everything you’ve ever dreamed of. Take that magic and that majesty you found in the past and apply it to the world at large. Oh, to be in a wonderful world of wizards and sorcerers, casting their magics on pages and canvases and the keys of pianos. What a wonderful world it will be, filled with art and song.


Carnival Comes to Paris

There’s flying and there’s dying

Both ending on the ground

Hearing that one final sound

Make refuge there, in burial mound

A man in a three-piece suit

Playing the piano

Can’t help but fall in love

Fly away, little dove

All affairs fair at the fair, long as you can pay the fare

Car broke down

Grab the spare

It’s a long way back to town

One day soon we’ll be back home

One day soon I’ll read that tome

Evil little lexicon

Stare me down, thereupon

Sitting on the shelf

Bore your holes

Whack those moles

Cross the bridge and pay the tolls

Find yourself and find our souls

Outta Time?

It seems I’ve always got more time. Always got something to look forward to. Never let myself run out of time. The clock is always ticking, or is it? Always seeing a way forward, gotta avoid the obstacles!


Just a Couple

Ephemeral feelings of floating

Wasn’t sure, never sure

Someone speaking, someone gloating

Doctor, please… Have you the cure?

Head spinning

Don’t be late

Little Alice, down the hole, hair is thinning

You, my friend, are missing a very important date

Needed somewhere

Never there

Looking down, a single tear

Sew it up, up the stair

Spooling wire

Always tired

Hear the spirit arcing through

Think of someone, couple’s two