Poetry and Such

She is a diamond of many facets

A meandering lake with many turns

A volcano that can level the Earth

The obsidian left after the burns

A pricking rose thorn refusing to quit

The pistil that for any man’s heart yearns

The cold stone used to build the family hearth

The warmth that a cozy fire returns

The rough hands that weave so many baskets

The sunshine needed to grow lovely ferns

The shipwreck at the bottom of the firth

But all the treasures that the diver earns

Her blemishes, if you can look past it

She is a diamond of many facets

Those Febreze air filters embalm the house.

Well worth the money – yes… your good idea.

The cat is still wallowing in that mouse

filled with catnip – his own dulcinea.

That cherry chap-stick is still my favorite

to wear when my lips become volcanic.

Fire truck sirens still go off quite a bit

and drive Sport’s dogs into the same panic.

Our sheets still get cool in the same places;

still fit between my toes in the spaces,

and if given the chance I would forget

all the elation, comfort, dysphoria, fear:

But this place mourns with me and won’t relent

and I can no longer stand to be here.

I want to dream but can’t sleep
I want to think but my head hurts
I want to cry but my eyes are dry
I want to speak but I am at a loss for words
I want to love but no one is there
I want to feel but I am numb 
I want to create but I am lost
I want to write but my hands are bound
I want to scream but I have no voice
I want to live but have no life
I want to stay but I am compelled to leave
I want to play but have nothing to do
I want to strive but have nothing to strive for
I want to help but can do nothing
I want to move but my legs are broken
I want to succeed but I feel as if I’ve failed
I want to care but don’t give a damn
I want to lead but have no followers
I want to change but love the person I am
I want to give but no one takes
I want to hate but I can only smile
I want to abide but cannot agree
I want to believe but can’t see the light
I want to deserve but I can’t achieve
I want to forget but it remains so vivid and clear
I want to inspire but can’t reach enough people
I want to joke but I am not very funny
I want to know but I have no teacher
I want to prove but where is the proof
I want to reason but my judgment is clouded
I want to understand but it doesn’t make sense
I want to say so much but can only think of so much to say

The Elberta burned, and all those within
Had to start a new life some place away.
All that’s left standing - a flower garden.

We stood motionless and watched with warm skin.
The heat encroached on, as hot as midday.
The Elberta burned, and all those within,

Those within wanted to speak to their kin,
But could not find a single way to say,
All that’s left standing - a flower garden.

The ambulance arrived, two doors opened,
Men got out with faces beforehand grey.
The Elberta burned, and all those within.

Epiphany swept over those within -
Positioned before them their last gateway.
All that’s left standing - a flower garden.

Pity for those tenants is felt herein.
All we can do for those poor souls is pray.
The Elberta burned, and all those within.
All that’s left standing - a flower garden.

I was on patrol in a foreign country, when I came across a civilian man and boy.

The man’s neck was tight, the boy’s arms bruised.

I intervene, appealing to my sense of duty.

The man becomes a caged animal, thrashing and bearing teeth.

Screaming something that sounds like “You don’t understand” but I ignore his babbling.

He objects with his hands when I take the boy by the arm.

His blood paints a portrait of the future on the ground.

The boy turns to stone.  I’m sure he’s relieved.

Silence walks with us back to camp.

When the gate closes behind us, I look over at his face.

His eyes are different now. They are welling up with tears and backlit by fire.

It is only here, this moment, that I realize that my ignorance ended us all.

In his hand is a glowing red light on a stick, and he has a bulge in his clothes.

My skin burns, my ears ring, and my body becomes a pin cushion.

I guess I don’t know everything after all.