Tuesday, October 23, 2012

Banshee Number 93

Walking in the shadow 
Of a ghost I can’t shake,
Can’t lose it, won’t go away
Waking me in the middle of the night
With the sweat and the chill
Fear bundled up in a tense fetal position
Clenched jaw, locked jaw
Grinding teeth
Gnashing and mashing and crashing
When the thunder from within jolts and bolts
Screaming at the red sky,
Lava moon that melts,
Spurts around something that
Stopped beating in my chest long ago
Howling with a bolt of electric clatter
Through my nerves, 
Calm my nerves
Break the shadow, turn on the light
To find that I am the ghost
Who frightens me.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

Hippie Ghosts

Walking into the Hip-E-Dream Antique Shoppe,
I strolled through aisles of pillows and hanging beads,
Looking for something that I wasn’t quite sure existed.
If it was anywhere, I knew that it had to be there
Because I heard about it from the ghost of a generation
Who couldn’t quite explain it to me in exact terms,
Just that people placed a high value on it
So I knew that it was worth hunting around the shop for,
Waddling through the flower power signs 
And the glass encased fringed leather purses,
Followed by imaginings of the thwack thwack sound
Of ancient huaraches,
Looking through rack upon rack of caftans,
Tripping over a few strangely ornate smoking devices,
I kept remembering how the elders mentioned
That they just sang for it and it appeared
But whatever it was, they now took up arms and battled for it.
When I saw the proprietor casually strike a match,
I smelled the smoke and saw my reflection in the mirror,
Looking rather disappointed at that,
I started to walk out empty handed and so sad
That I almost missed
The crumpled and torn scrap of paper in the corner
That held the words
Peace and Love.

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Invisible Boundaries

Walking the tiresome journey

Through the drudgery of servitude

Sipping the bitter drink

Of the day to day to day

Breaking the back of the wishbone

Watching the dream fade to fog and uncertainty

The honor hidden in the realm of a noble past

The warrior confidence pulsing through the artery

Feeding the center of compassion

In the dust of the battle

Becoming a mystery,

A glimpse of a second sight

Of something delicate falling through

A crack in a colorful prism

Through a brilliant portal in time

Landing at our feet,

Overcoming the feat

Fighting on, wearing the armor,

Toughening our skin

Layer by layer by layer

Plodding forward in the duty and the honor

That continually keeps us from the glory

Tuesday, October 2, 2012

Clock Watchers

Sitting in the antiseptic waiting room
Trying to avoid each other’s eyes
Knowing that we are all there for the same reason
And it isn’t pretty
Some moms and aunts and grandmas politely smile
At the tag-a-long toddler to kill time, fill space
In the cloying atmosphere
Until he screams, screams, screams
Because we all want to do that, too:
Lose our filters, lose control
Instead we check unimportant updates
On our cell phones
While trying to pretend that we are not staring at each other,
Sizing up the person ahead of us
With his thinning hair and talc skin,
Wondering how some partners willingly came along for support
While others got roped into being there for a ride
Or for some cruel sort of punishment
Becoming numb to the wait, the lines, the worry,
Recognizing the un-indoctrinated to a system
Of circumstances beyond control, beyond hope
(I hope not!)
Regardless of belief or non-belief of the reality or of a deity
We all murmur a prayer before it’s our turn
Hoping that we come out alright,
Hoping that we come out at all
To live through another wait
In that uncomfortable waiting room,
Avoiding the stares,
And wondering about the same faces
On another day.