an incomplete life…

the empty spaces
wedged between your dreams are fears
forced in by others

 

scientific investigations…

the old fan
painted the body
with cool air
in
broad strokes
from
head to toe
as
rivulets
arising
from
the sleepless child
meandered
their way
downward
to
the bed sheets
attempting
to reach
the sea
though
this point
was
a mere
hypothesis
that
the child
had developed
after watching
a classroom video
it was one
of
many
theories
developed
from
similar scientific
presentations
the one
on
pollination
for example
made
it necessary
to
never use
the same
q tip
between
the two ears
for
fear of
the resulting consequences
one can never be too careful
the child thought
further
since energy
cannot be created
or
destroyed
and
humans were
in fact
containers
of
energy
it followed
that
ghosts
were real
though evidence
for
that theory
was based more on
stories
presented
by
his uncles
and
neighborhood friends
during
night exploration trips
and
usually
as
the campfire
became
no more than
ashes
however
it was
a logical conclusion
given
classroom lectures
and
the reliable testimony
of
family and friends
now
i’m certain
that
this child’s hypotheses
may bring a smirk
to your face
but
what do you
believe
that is
no more than hearsay
about
the world
and
the people
in
it

 

sunrise…

a corner seat
at
a daydream’s table
nothing
floating
between
the frames
on
my forehead
but
the sweet notes
of
piano music
and
memories
of
when magic
was
real
and
love would last
forever
an eternal flame
that
nothing
in life
could extinguish
and
the ticking of time
seemed
like
the sound
of
spring rain
on
a tin roof
rhythmic melodies
warm
as
a lover’s breath
and
as
a sweet
a morning tea
here
in
my
corner
seat

 

disapproval…

sometimes
subtle
but
rarely
unobserved
small movements
of
lips
or
eyes
that can
quickly
be translated
by
even
the dullest minds
ah
but those
with
intellect
stare off
into
a mythical horizon
as if
nothing
was
covertly conveyed
turning
the predator
into
the
prey

 

soliloquy of thought…

have to clear
my head
of
these empty conversations
for
there will be
no
communion
no
breaking
of
bread together
nor
sipping
of
the sacred wine
of
enlightenment
there will only be
the bitter vinegar
of
lies
thrust
into
the mouths
of
babes

 

departure…

canopy
conceals
the stars and moon
darkness
shrouds the source
of
sounds
in
a veil
of
fear
sounds
come from
all
directions
none louder
than
the boy’s
pounding heart
as
shallow breaths
join
the chorus
of
fear
suddenly
strong scents
fill
his nostrils
it’s like
an approaching death
pulse
quickens
he
lowers his body
to
the ground
becoming one
with
the earth
then
a torch
is lite
he is encircled
by
his elders
bapa dola
speaks
saying
each hunter
must have empathy
for
their prey
the taking
of
life
for survival
means
the end
of
survival
for
another
so
should be done
with
respect
and
understanding
of
the prey’s fear
a fire
was lit
and
the elders
brought forth
nature’s offerings
for
a boy
was now
a man

 

it’s all about timing…

the pastor
swayed
to
the music
from
the youth choir
smiling broadly
as
he opened
the bible
and
read
a verse
about
the true meaning
of
forgiveness
to which
deacon jones
exclaimed
amen
while
staring
at
a frowning
sister jones
in
the front row

 

not that it’s my business…

tell me
mister christian
if
it were your
wife
daughter
or
child
groped
and
raped
by
the president
would
you
be
as forgiving
as
you’ve
been
so far
freely
supporting
the evil
that’s been
done
to others