for the longest time
i’ve wanted
to ask
aunt bea
why she keeps those
far less
than
perfect
childhood sculptures
we made
mixed in
with
her
fine porcelain
aunt bea
said
those of us
who have
maintained
some level of sanity
are aware
of
our imperfections
and
are able to
carry on
while some folks
fervently pursue
what does not
exist
perfection
becoming
paralyzed
absorbed
into
the social madness
of
life
those early
artistic endeavors
of yours
were made
with
love
and
innocence
and as such
are
perfect
as we cycled by
a corpse
had been placed
by
the side of the road
it needed to
be counted
by
an official
who
could not
arrive
today
so
the body
was placed outside
of
the village
that
would facilitate
the count
tomorrow
since
the official
could
just drive by
to enter it
into
the records
then
the body
could be buried
afterwards
that
reminded me
of
how we vote
in this country
placing the body
of
freedom
on the side of
the road
of
personal gain
not realizing
our children
will have
to
bury the body
ever wonder
why
happiness
eludes you
maybe there’s
too much
of
yesterday’s old garbage
strewn around your todays
bits of
anger and fear
decaying
in the corners
of your mind
my advice
would be
to
take out the trash
random fragments of your life are scattered around the floor of your conciousness as you shuffle from one thought to the other they become less coherent your past becomes indiscernible from dreams and nightmares nightmares that soon envelop your days so your days become indistinguishable from nights now life as you had envisioned it is forgotten only basic survival routines exist your movements no longer have any real purpose other than to sustain in an unpremeditated manner the dreams and nightmares
what woke you
at
night
when you were
a child
still lingers
in
the darkness
haunting
the hours
before dawn
but
for
some poor souls
it lingers
throughout
the day
and though
these are
no more
than created ghosts
harmless apparitions
that
cannot touch
nor
be touched
their mere
presence
in the light of day
fosters
anxieties
spinning
the mind
like
a child playing
with
an old toy top
creating
a dark loneliness
an invisible veil
that conceals
the colors
of
the world
leaving only
shades
of gray
and
dark shadows
turning
each day
into
a child’s night
they’ve never been
useful
one would say
they
serve
no
practical purpose
something
to throw away
when
your life becomes
preoccupied
with
particles of existence
or
the dust bunnies
under
your bed
i suspect
they’re
one in the same
neither
requires any level
of
pain
to toss into the bin
or
usher off
to goodwill
so
they’ll either be
scavenged
by
someone else
and
incorporated
into
a recycled vision
of
tomorrow
or
left
to
to gather
cobwebs
in
some
bargain basement
self-help
book
on
how to fulfill
your
dreams
how has time changed you what dreams have you forgotten or abandoned leaving empty spaces in your heart and mind seen by some as a far away look or just plain emptiness that you cannot explain to those who ask is there something wrong a question rarely answered in truth just the typical offering of empty platitudes things are fine nothing to worry about couldn’t be better or some other verbal detour from the truth served up with a practiced smile but closing your eyes you can see that empty space but you decide to move on into the new day without what’s been missing for so long
Read Between the Minds 