Show Us Your Conflict

46 souls in queue
46 salted pleas off chapped levees
'neath the hearth of deadened tongue
heavy
45 and 1
striving still to breathe

I see  
through fallen lashes  
of December frost.  
It's all black now.  
 
Coffee beans  
of stars cured by cinnamon flake  
soaked through olive oil in a candlelit jar.  
 
The ember from silver ladel  
tipped to my cup.  
 
I feel fur of white wolf  
curled full on the sky.  
 
Giddy now.  
 
The soltice drinks the pools that lapped my tongue.  
Those hummingbirds in the checker bark  
coil in frailty  
in so neither had the wing for Honduras.  
 
I touch the same  
on my featherless shoulder blades knotted in bowlines sprung on panfish dropped from school.  
 
Deterred from nomads  
in gypsy floral lace  
and dreary-eyed nymphs by Mississippi ferry disappeared  
in the showlight  
that crinkles in bows across the aquarelle  
when I saw she dipped her waist in the planets  
as I wrote by the red curtain.  
 
Wiping my fallen lids from the dew rattled from the vapors there,  
I see  
 
it's all black now  
 
after all.

On the wall across the street
a slogan drew her attention
encircled by a well-designed graffiti  
depicting cleverly a certain connectivity
of all the arts
 
“Arts of the world unite
and let us all fit in!”
 
She frowned and sighed disapprovingly.
Reached in her purse, out came her lipstick.
First did her lips – burning red – and crossed the street.
There, under the slogan, hand and lipstick drew letters:
 
“Free the words from escorting guards…”
 
Hand and lipstick suspended for a moment
A satisfied smile led them to the task’s completion:
 
“A Word Says More Than A Thousand Pictures!”
 
Lipstick back in purse, turned her back to the wall
back she crossed to the other side
as a couple of curious eyes zoomed in the Word...

              Lost Boy            
             
I miss you, more than I tend to admit.              
Now I've got lots on my mind              
that i need to emit.              
So here are some words              
that I'd like to submit to the page,            
about how we lost you at too young of an age.              
I thought you were strong, and you were,            
but you hurt a bit more than I gauged.              
Now you're ash in a box,              
and a name on a grave.              
Now you're only captured in thoughts              
and photographs. Sometimes I think            
this could have been stopped,            
you could have been saved.            
             
But we were deep down the rabbit hole,              
dancing with Alice.              
We all have to go eventually.              
For now, I'm alone in the palace,            
just me a throne and a chalice.              
Cold, wrapped in a throw,              
seeking my balance.            
The king, the queen, the guards,              
they've all left.              
The jokers are gone, no more jests.              
The gold's been spent,              
I'm mocked by empty chests.            
Still I wander here,              
even in my dreams while I rest.              
I tried to burn it all to see you in the next.            
Not that I believe in that,              
but for the longest time              
I believed that you would be back.              
I saved a Guinness for you,            
do you miss your cats?              
Do you miss morning bike rides,            
or afternoon naps?              
You missed my birthday,            
but I'll forgive you for that.            
           
Moving on, another chapter to write.            
You've got me hoping that              
there's an afterlife. If there isn't,              
then I guess this is goodnight.              
I just hope you feel all right.            
             
My voice now echoes down              
empty halls, beneath blackened skies.                    
Do I curse Alice, the rabbit,            
the hole, or my mind?          
Trapped, I study these walls in              
effort to memorize the climb.            
At times I imagine emerging            
covered in sweat and grime,            
but after so long submerged,              
the rabbit hole's light now burns my eyes.            
Lonely, in a dark corner,            
I lay cold and blind.            
I'm having trouble deciding            
on where I want to reside.            
In this empty castle           
a hollow shell,            
or is that the same as to die?            
Is it worth the hassle              
climbing out of this hell?            
It'll be tough, I've tried.            
Why can't you just be alive?               
             
I need a release,            
I keep dreaming that I'm trapped            
beneath the foot of my feats.            
I need to blow off some steam,            
I need my demons to cease,          
I need a trigger to squeeze.         
Cut the leash off some beasts,          
send me a fleet to defeat,              
or a dragon in heat    
to behead for a feast.                

Hell, while I'm wired            
I'll start a fire before bed.            
I'll slay a thousand winged beasts            
and bathe the entire castle in red,            
or gain peace in my defeat,            
as my soul slips from it's weary stead.            
I wish you were here,            
not just in my head.            
I miss how we joked,              
worked, bonded and bled.            
I can't believe that you're dead.            
I wish I'd known you were dying,            
I'd take back words that I said.            
I hope you know that I'm trying.            
I wish I'd known you were sick,            
while we were drinking and smiling,            
out all night below the city lights,            
picking fights, and prank dialing.            
If you are up there looking down,            
I hope that you’re still smiling            
and any time you find              
a moment to spare, could you              
read these lines Ryan,            
or would that be too death defying?        
       
Moving on, another chapter to write.            
You've got me hoping that              
there's an afterlife. If there isn't,              
then I guess this is goodnight.              
I just hope you feel all right.            
             
You could be childish,              
still you taught me to be a man.              
You had been violent, yet held              
compassion some will now never understand,            
damn. How could you leave us like this?            
We planted a tree for you,              
I hope you see that you're missed.              
It was a Linden, your favorite, I had to insist.              
I'll admit, for a little bit I was pissed.              
You could have talked to me.              
Looking back now, I see the hints.              
But we were two lost boys,    
busy burning up the motherland.            
Winter storms on the beach, we              
treated like wonderland.              
With our ski masks on,              
we were ready to hike.              
The goggles went on            
for icy rides on our bikes              
and when the gloves went up,              
we just might fight.            
Like when you crashed your truck              
into my car and we both threw strikes,              
then laughed it off and got high that night.            
We shared Caesars in the morning before              
even a bite. Bonfire at noon and by two,            
we were feeling all right.       
             
Life without you is a trip,              
I'll try to carry on your essence.              
I aim to learn from your mistakes,            
and pass along your lessons.              
I'm currently pumping the brakes,              
to deal with some depression.              
It's got me reminiscing              
about your kind gestures            
and funny expressions.              
Arguments and barbecues, late night confessions,              
trail walks and comic book sessions.            
Real talks, about whatever had us stressing.            
In times that I was my worst enemy,            
you were a great friend to me, no question,            
and I'm sorry if I took you for granted.            
             
It felt like we were meant to meet              
like we both came from another planet.            
Now I'm forced to bid you farewell,            
of course, not how I planned it.              
There are so many stories to tell,            
next to your tree that we planted.            
Still, I get broken up,            
the duo's been disbanded.              
I hate that you're gone,            
and at times I can't stand it.              
I try to move on, but            
I'm scared, I've been abandoned.            
I try to be strong,            
but I feel stranded and            
it's got me on a tangent again.            
That's why for now, my hand stays            
clamped to a pen.              
You were a hell of a pal,            
you were a champ of a friend.            
I miss you buddy,              
I'll carry you till the end.              
I wish you a peaceful slumber,              
wishes are now all I can send,            
and when I'm six feet under            
I hope we meet again.              
But until then, know              
that you're remembered              
and missed, Until then,              
I'll pretend that you're in              
heaven in bliss and if there isn't,              
then I guess this is goodnight.              
I just hope you feel all right.              
                                For Ryan

 


don't ask if I like it
don’t act like I’m hot
don't look at me

with those dead-baby eyes

don't moan
through hissing
nostrils and those
caulked lips

(///)

like
movie sex

you might get
a nip slip, maybe

make out, scene
fades black, then

no one
climaxes

no one sleeps
when it ends

bydk 11/30/18

 

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

with
thank you’s
signs of appreciation
serenity
tranquility
with,out
tension
rage
awkwardness
all,though
sumtimes
hate equals
confusion
contaminated and clogged brains
sometimes rain
mostly pain
a lot of complaints with
undressed hugs
under dry ceilings
naked positive facial expressions
yet not
alwaysknot
blessings
but blessed to adapt to this unfairness

there is a happy
or comfortable impression
with
dry shoulders near, luckily there’s a beer
no deep conversations
with acquainted expressions
mad thoughts
depressing thoughts
anxious with anxiety
disappointed at myself while
mad at the world
in love with the thought of
love, comfortand compassion
music on all the time
but interruptions think it’s a crime

solarrays patiently waiting
to melt my skull
sunbeams ready
to drink my fluids sweat and water
brightness ready to shut myeyesmind and time
drained from work
with sore backhandsandlegs
while feeling the headache
while attempting to stay strong
to not feel like I am being
swallowed by multiple corruptions

there is too much money while living
my plate full of food while starving
acid burns the stomach
 
pores pouring
instead of storing
demons roaring
instead
of my body snoring
no souls exploring
or
gaining experience
while constantly ignoring

there are warm welcomes when I get home
there are peaceful greetings on arrival

poetry is never boring

bydk 11/09/18

12/20/2018

Dear Frank, I want to be frank with you,
I want to be open and honest with what I’m about to say,
Because even though I said goodbye some time ago,
I’m blue because today it ended this way.  

I know you had your demons, they’re hard to let go,
But you fought hard and fell and got up and fell again,
And though you didn’t always make the best choices,
After so many long talks, I know there was good in you.  

I know we laughed, we cried and you tried,
But I always loved hearing you talk to your grandchildren,
You were such a loving man when you were there,
Just like I remember when I was ten.  

Dad, I’m sorry I’m mad, I feel sad but mostly bad,
I should’ve called, I should’ve picked up the phone,
Because every time we hung up you said “I love you son, love you son”,
Knowing how you were so alone.  

But I’d like to think of you in better times,  
All the shenanigans and pranks you used to play,
All the stories uncles and aunts told me about you,
That’s the Frank I’ll remember till my dying day.

I like imagine that somewhere up there the futbol gods,
Are giving semi old pros like you a chance to realize their dream,
That you’ve put on those cleats for old time sake and when you play,
The cheers of a hundred sound like forty thousand scream.  

I’d like to picture we’re back on the black sand in ‘74,
Hearing the words you said in the photo I wished you’d repeat,
Because somewhere in the memories of me and you,
We are young again with the crashing waves at our feet.
Rest in Peace.