Word Power

Farmer: “You can have my gun…when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers.”
Creepy Alien: “Your proposal is acceptable.”~Men In Black

Last night under the half moon’s gaze
swallows swooped into the portal

of setting sun. Study abandoned,
drawn into that calm lake

mirrored trees and pastel clouds.
I should have pitched

a tent in this wildness,
slept under the guidance

of stars. Inside, under square
and unforgiving lines, rigid

corners halting the circling
air, I despaired. Why am I here

on this precise planet, witnessing
these particular atrocities?

A friend gave up last month,
in a minute on a day in a week

of pain and sorrow. Far away,
blasting the closed-off sham

consciousness of
individuality. And the tear

in the fabric her being held
is memorialized by an outpouring—-

does she feel it now? Is the myth
of separation finally pierced

like a veil or fog by light?
I woke firm in my decision

not to post a poem, not today.
Convinced my voice just adds

to the noise preventing our
communion. Still here now

I go with the flow
by this lovely lake, my words

carrying me to you
and yours to me

our mutual celebration
this daily game we play.

Inspired by: Tear, Memorialize, Creepy and Sham.

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

What do you want?
As if your need
rises up and renders you
like lard sizzling in the skillet.

Over and over
guided and coached: what do you
want? Studied and analyzed

by your footprints
your posts, your likes,
your purchasing history
your comments,

following
the trails crafted by psycho-
paths who sell a different
peace you could obtain

if only you could get
what you want

that perfect Instagram moment
at the top of the wave
sunlit tresses tossed
emerging from the pain

with wisdom,
and the glorious smile
that convinces you to
forget the other 86,399

seconds in a day,
inevitable, carrying you
the ebb and flow and
your ancestors resonating

and thrumming in your veins
and everyone wanting.
Lamenting the deplorable

play where the actors dissemble
with fake smiles
stealing your presents
while chanting the challenge:

what do YOU want?
When really, all that’s lacking
is the silence of inner
space that opens

right now to ducks
diving in the lake
five degrees above freezing
emerging in concentric circles

rippling out to touch the others
before they descend again
diving separately
in tandem

together
and now apart,
swimming through a gold

blaze signaling
fall in the green lake,
the first brilliant week
of autumn reflected

the waters, calm
before newcomers splash down
in silvery water shimmers
of resolution. The question

turns reality
inside out and flings you
into a fruitless flummox

WHAT do you want?
Full of myself,
brimming with you,
how
can I be more

here
more
now
eyes open

mind clear
heart receptive
to this deluge
of blessings?

Inspired by: #OctPoWriMo Day 19: What do you want, Challenge, Week, Dissemble, Deplorable,  Resolution.