2525

filtered sunlight caresses
chalk hearts on mag(net)ic pavement
and i salute those rebel kids
for still knowing
how to play

there is a myth, clinging helplessly
to the bare branches of March
officially permitted
to drown in wifi waves –
stamped and notarized

life is in a hurry,
sporting business suits and clenched jaws
(get out of my way! no time, no TIME!!)
and i wonder
if there is a code in these fateful digits –
the true message:
2525.

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Twisted Meat Medley

fateful hour
broken hands on broken clock;
skeleton crawls, languidly
back into mother’s womb –
the butcher draws near
on rubber-booted feet,
and when he raises his brow
in unison with his knife,
it is time
for remorseful chickens
to dance
the last dance.

What If…

what if
i forget?

my mind’s stronghold
no longer my own;
trapped
in time’s desert
where the last viscid thought clings
to dry river’s bed

what if
i forget?

the touch of loved ones;
no longer gentle to me
but omnious and fearsome,
strangers –
invading my life,
my privacy

what if
i forget?

my name
my thoughts
my words
and i stumble;
the face of dawn
no longer uplifting friend –
for i know
i will have to endure
another alien day
in an alien world

will i still
be a person
if i no longer exist
in my own mind?
.
.
.
what if…
i forget?

… Stuart over at dVerse has us writing about phobia/fear… come over and join a bunch of scared people at the bar! I definitely need a beer now…
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photo credits: dropletsodillies.blogspot.com