Toilet/Potty Poem (10/2021)
Sitting on the toilet in
Solemn contemplation
Staring at the shag rug
Covering the Autumn-chilled tile floor
Faces and shapes emerge
Beasts and people
Both fantastic and frightening
Revealing themselves
Emerging in the trampled fibers
Of bare footed traffic
Before I roll them up
To erase their existence
In the reality of life's washing machine
Like shaking an etch a sketch
Re-setting the tabula rasa of imagination
personal
CHAFF IN THE WIND
I remember when Saturday
Felt like Sunday
And I was dreading Monday
Feeling like I’m strung out on junk
(Which I never tried)
I was strung out on life
(Which I couldn’t escape)
And it wasn’t pretty
I hated my life
The world I lived in
Staked to the ground
Face up in some tribal ritual
Eye lids propped open
Waiting for the sun to burn me blind
I just wanted to die
But couldn’t
Feeling rejected
Outcast, judged and ridiculed
Was it done to me?
Or did I do it to myself?
In the back of my mind
In the shadows of
What I remember myself to be
I felt there was another side
I just had to get there
But the road was dark
There was no light to light my way
Shadows loomed large and mean
In my withdrawal
Happy is an illusion
And I wanted to get lost in that illusion
But knowing the magicians secrets
Is it possible to ever enjoy the magic again?
Are these fancy words for a poem,
A memoir or just letters jumbled with meaning
meant to get lost and scattered like
so much chaff in the wind
... on being and becoming ... 