They can not see beyond the fog
that is all they seek.
Escape.
They fall altered into pharmaceutical
reality.
Mist like creeping mustard gas
poisons their future
stealing their hopes
ruining their dreams.
They fill their days
seeking nebulous security
altered beyond
recognition.
.
.
For those kids and their families battling with addiction who most need education and school supports to develop health and security.
The ancient alchemists
would stand in awe
of forests transformed
into gold.
They speak of gifts
from former lovers:
vases
or black eyes,
rings
or babies.
They carry
former intimacies:
horrors and tragedies
traumas and ecstasies.
I have no
former lover,
I carry only
years with you;
no horrors mar our history,
just monogamous longevity–
our effort at ontogeny.
.
.
Her smile
has spinnerets,
shoots invisible strands
that stick to your eyes,
wrap around your groin,
pull you inextricably tighter,
wind you in a gossamer shroud
ready to devour you
in sucking gulps,
and leave you an empty husk.
In the hidden folds
a tiny desire rests,
A covert longing,
unacknowledged.
You sense it’s there
a tiny, unseen lump,
caught in the fibres
of your life.
You ignore it,
though you feel it
nudging
incessantly.
You keep it secret.
Until finally
you must pick at it,
stretch threads apart,
catch a corner,
then pulling,
and pulling,
and pulling,
like a silk scarf
from a magician’s wand,
more,
more,
more,
until the room is filled
with the vivid kaleidoscope of colour
the billowing
reality of your unspoken dreams
coming true.
Gentle sliding
Pearl draped tenderness
Rocking horse
heaven.
.
.
.
Another #Outlander inspired poem…
(ep 7 is rather inspiring)
What if
just for today
you dared to do
that thing you fear?
What if
just for today
whenever you
wanted to say no,
you opened yourself
to yes?
What if
today was the day
when everything
changed?
It’s quivering
twisting
trembling in anticipation
waiting in a
golden gown
to tumble
and dance
with the wind.
“I know this guy
who chopped off all his fingers in a blender.”
What? Was he intoxicated? drunk? high?
“Nope.”
You’re kidding. Why would he do that?
“Well, you know, he wanted to prove he could touch
the middle of the chopping part without getting hurt.”
But he couldn’t, apparently.
Shrug. “I guess not.”
Huh.
“Yeah. People from Calgary are stupid.”
.
.
.
Sometimes, I am very afraid for the youth of today.
Shawn L. Bird 