Study Break at the Window

With palms pressed against the screen window the woven wires gently cut into my hands leaving delicate prints when I withdraw. The crisp evening air is delicious and I savor the scent of sea breezes lifting moist earth and cut grass into the essence of freedom, an intoxicating scent that calls me. Mother nature reminds me to cool it as clock ticks speed up in a whirlwind of action. To the tune of crashing waves and receding tides, she hides the metronome’s dull thuds in songs of sincerity for she sings haunting melodies of those unaware of beauty clocked in indifference. Like a sailor driven to the rocks by siren songs, I seek salvation and allow myself to be seduced by the sounds and scents until I’m drawn to the window where my palms press the screen and my soul aches to be free of this human body so it can soar beyond my reach above sea torn beaches, breaching the gap between me and immortality. Cloudy thoughts on a crystal clear night frighten me as I return to the caged creature you usually see. I return to those social sensibilities. I bury my head in a mountain of words and lose my mind in the absurd. Etched on my hands, reminders will linger for a few moments longer, until I find something stronger to carry my thoughts away.

You are a man not a mouse

“You are a man not a mouse”

“But I’m so small”

“You are a man not a mouse”

“But I love cheese”

“You are a man not a mouse”

“But I fear cats”

“Perhaps you are a mouse. Look there Cheese has been laid out for you ”

(SNAP)

“I’ve been caught in a trap ”

“But you’re not dead”

“No, I’m not dead.”

“It must be better to be a man in a trap, than a dead mouse; aren’t you glad you are a man not a mouse?”

“But...”

Night Fall

Nightfall
Knights fall
On fall nights
I’m a fallen knight
And I cannot fight anymore.

This metaphor spins in my mind, but I’m standing still in the midst of a dance floor wondering if there’s more to this tale. I appear to be dancing as the trance music makes those around me sway and jostle me in and out of reality. But my feet are planted. My arms are bare like branches on a banyan tree, hanging loose beside me, hopefully they’ll soon ground me. And the music beats upon my thoughts and silences my thoughts leaving me with an empty sense of joy. Or is it pain? They feel the same. The door opens as more enter the dance floor and a wave of cold air washes over me, I can’t tell if I’m refreshed and cool or a shivering fool. Perhaps it’s all the same. It’s all the same. It’s all the same to her. The nights with knights in shining armor who’ll take her away and dump her astray, never going out of their way to slay her demons. But she’ll see them. And as night falls, knights fall into fantasy with the way that maiden sings in her sleep. And on fall nights, I’m a fallen knight, and I cannot fight for her anymore. So I lose my way till day break, fake excuses and socialize with recluses until I see a familiar face. Dawn never looked so good.


(Words, Letters, Poetry Slammers freewrite.
The prompt for this was to write a poem using the idea of Night and Fall... )

Games With No Rules

She twists her minute hands for hours on ends.
He is a shadow in her mind and hates waiting games, but he plays along.
She turns over in bed after losing a staring contest with the wall, interrupted by his call.
He had nothing to say.

And all day long they play games with no rules, like fools in love with love and not each other.
Discovering the smoothness of paper, purity soon to be scarred with false words and worries and wonders which wait to be answered, dragging question marks behind them hoping to hook into hearts so they can capture an imagination. These love notes are open bear traps and if closed they will torture the mind caught within as the heart flutters trying to be free. They play with no rules like fools in love with love, and she knows the game they’re playing. So she twists her minute hands for hours on ends until he has shadowed her into the darkness. Disappearing like a phantom performer in an empty theatre, he turns on the ghost light, calls her from her bed and opens her mind with the dreams in his head.

Empty Stein

Echos of music from down the hall sound like nostalgia from a simpler time. Soulful pain gets in a groove to the tune of empty steins as they pound down on wooden bars, echoing. Dull but rich. Thick sounds you can almost taste. Bitter. Spit out those words to get the flavor out and ignore the soulful pain, else you’ll be reminded of your own. Spit out those words to get the flavor out and then savor the silence. It’s delicious. Until she splits those lips to let out another sound, she spins you around her heart through her mind and leaves you empty on a bar stool where you find you stein is empty, like your heart.

equilibrium again

Equilibrium disturbed.
Conflict curved to resolution.
No immediate solution, that’d kill the narrative.
It’s imperative that there’s a story to tell,
Otherwise this movie will never sell.
Eventually we’ll see the way things can be.
If we wait until then, We’ll reach equilibrium again

Self

Overlapping emotions and the motion of my stomach swings to try to accompany them in a nauseating wave, I struggle to calm. Anxious and empty. Fully aware and solid like lead bullets flying through empty space before vanishing into hearts without a trace. Fall like autumn on unsuspecting children who’ll dance through puddles and muddle through mixed messages as their parents teach them to embrace the moment, but keep their hands to themselves. Shelve the books, shelve the dirty looks and store the emotional baggage on a plane that’s destined to be taken hostage. Lose control to the disciplined instructions of passionately ignorant and courageously stupid captors. Get lost in expectations and reflections in store windows, can you see yourself in their stereotypes? Wipe the make up off your face and vanish without a trace into an empty identity. You are the you that no one else can see, if you let yourself be this will it piss him off? Will she fail to be your friend, is it the end when you succeed independently from the Banana Republic? You don’t know yet, but you let your hair down, falling off the shoulders in waves, you grow older as you shed the winter coat in colder company. Alone, empty, strong and vulnerable - empty and aware, looking straight ahead, they all will stop to stare, and you will wonder

Why did no one look before?