Wednesday, December 26, 2012

No One at His Back

A middle age man sits
     in a crowded restaurant
His back to the wall
     his eyes looking
For a restful spot
     away from the chaos
Memories of sitting behind
     a wall on guard
With no one at his back
     or to the right and left
Curiously exposed he knows
     he is more sacrifice
Than protection
The increase of noise brings
     him back to the present
And forces his eyes
     toward the door
Too much, he must escape
     bidding curt farewells
He rushes through a maze
     to the door
Outside he relaxes
     just a bit
But his eyes still roam
     looking for threat
His back still itches
     waiting for an attack

That will never come

Florescent Black Plastic

I look through thick panes
At the world, who not noticing
The bulky frames and mullions
Or florescent black plastic guarantied
To prevent pregnancy and sexual assault
But oddly, no one seems to notice
The glaring from my face
I remove the frames and panes
Turning the world to fuzzy softness
To squint at what is now
Just a pair of blocky, black glasses
And put them on again
To see
That no one really cares
But me

We are Only

The hardest distance across the line
Comes from the ancient test of dignity
Versus honesty with contempt
For the lies we tell ourselves
Regarding who we are and the 
Values we disregard so that
We can place ourselves as being
Better than the rest of the world
As we attempt to hold them down
With self righteousness that we are only
'Doing it for their own good'

Muse's Angel

The angel stood over my bed
Curly ebony hair cascading over her shoulders
Her eyes glassy bludgeons
And with her lips she moulded fire
'You are to do as you are bidden'
Her voice rang through my head
Though only a wisp of flame passed her lips
'The Muse has sent me
She will not deal so lightly again'
The angel vanished and left me with blindness
From the radiance protecting me from her fire
I tripped out of bed and crawled
Until I found a table with paper and pen
And I scribbled, blind:
To whom I must serve

Amusement Clouds

Talking about objects being dragged along the floor
Only leads to a distraction of a haggard face
Blowing bubbles into distant clouds for the amusement
Of large children with wrinkled faces
Racing wheelchairs in a dark park
Across from hell's gates

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

Occupational Therapy

I'm looking through magazines
It is OT time, I know
I have heard the name before
What OT means, I should know
I should be making
Myself better, with healing
But instead I turn the page
And question the purpose
Because my brain can't make sense
Of all the things that used to
Be normal, and clear, and plain
And instead fight back black tears
That turn to molasses and
Smother me at night

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

A Banner

A banner, loose and flying in the wind
Calls to all those trapped in drudgery
Speaks to the slaves of mindless discipline
Shouts, 'Stand for freedom, liberty to all!'
And then she puts her streaming hair safely
Again into a regulation bun
I fight back the tears and cries of, 'How could you?
We all need you. Lead us to freedom!'
I pass running, silenty murmuring
In defeat
'We need you.'