emotions

by

bring in the clowns…

political flimflam man
has got
a song
for you
each
word
was written
with you
in mind
not one line
says a thing
but
sounds
as if
it does
there’s no doublespeak
no speak
at all
carefully colored
with emotions
they’re
cotton candy words
so
hurry
hurry
hurry
to the big top circus
of government
where death
for the very young
is not defied
but
part of the act

by

the quality of mercy is not strain’d…

the army
issued coat
metal plate
and bolts
in his back
are the only
reminders of
regular meals
he watches
as you approach
and toss
a conscious coin
into the guitar case
then watches you
blend into
the upholstery
of your beemer
did you really
believe
he didn’t see that smirk
the
greater than thou
one
are you so vain
that you believe
you got
where
you are
without the blood
and toil
of others
go ahead
do it again
lip sync
those emotions
and words
there but for
the grace…

by

my friend…

 

you sit
staring
a coffee cup
the only
warmth
you feel
memories
of unkind words
linger
the aroma
of pain
mothballed emotions
on every fiber
of your day
and still
you refuse
to air out
love’s linen
lying across
your bed
a bed
long grown cold
on one side
where
the only
voice still heard
was the promise
that was not
kept
till death
do us
part

by

a strange gift…

 

she was brought here
as a child
so many years ago
away from her village
and the toys of her childhood
to become a child toy
for nameless men
who entered her room at night
taking what they wanted
each time stealing a bit of her
leaving her void of emotions
some of the men would return
week after week
year after year
of those who returned this night
she had offtered them
something special
if they would bring her a gift
a gift that she defined
a small tank of gas
for winter was coming
some duct tape
to seal the windows
from winter’s chill
and one strange gift
an old pilot’s mask
perhaps for decoration
as each left this night
satisfied by her
more than usual
she
smiled at them
a wry smile
but a smile
and
when the night was through
she took her last sustiva
smiled again
knowing
what they
did not know
then
taping the mask
to the tank
fell into a deep
eternal sleep

by

depression…

 

he without form
void of all emotions
sat in the darkness
of his room
gasping for breath
praying to a god
he had long abandoned
or abandoned him
expecting little
receiving less
his mind a fertile ground for doubt
too many faceless fears
whispering in his ears
spiralling his fragile thoughts
into the darkest realms of self-pity
where his dreams
wither in the sun of expectation
easily crushed and blown away
faith is but a shadow of smoke upon the wall
sensed but never felt
here
tears are his only true companion
he is buried beneath daily routines
and each day he thinks
the morning
and evening
were the first day