Everyday Event
You can see it coming,
Accompanying some
Everyday event and,
Predictably, becoming
Like every other thing
In his life—overly
Complicated by an
Entrenched inability to
Admit that he doesn’t
Know everything,
Fearing he’ll be
Exposed.
He’s Happy
Deprived of the love
He needed when he
Was growing up,
He’s now unable to
Feel it for anyone else,
Including himself,
His life a caustic
Ordeal of ire
Accompanied by wretchedness,
Although, if you ask him,
He’ll assure you he’s happy.
Exorcising
Beat mercilessly
As a child,
Belittled,
Minimized,
Robbed of any sense
Of self-love,
He gravitates toward
Others with
Similar wounds.
They form a
Movement of
Violent hatred,
Subjugating other
Human beings,
Killing undesirables,
Craving the fleeting
Feeling of power,
Never satisfied.
A cult psychosis,
Collective hypnosis,
Fabricating a false
History, distorting
The truth, exorcising
Personal demons by
Trying to take over
The world instead of
Healing themselves.
The Same Way
So we start the same
Way we always have,
Following some kind of
Haphazard script
Severely limiting what
Can be said, adhering
To arbitrary rules
Imposed by fear and
Secrecy, meant to
Discourage any meaningful
Conversation or resolution.
Untruths
Seeing an old photo,
Remembering what it felt
Like to exist then,
The relentless
Inner bewilderment,
Ruthless untruths
Forcing me to be
Someone else,
Voices other than mine.
This Part of Town
This part of town
Isn’t the same as
It used to be,
Gradually life has
Supplanted decay,
Introducing a new
Vibrancy and energy
Where once only
Shadows existed,
Though one can’t help
Wonder what happened
To the people who
Used to live around here.
Precious
A fragile blue sphere
Drifting in an endless
Field of stars,
Not a single
Nation discernible,
No one person
More important
Than another,
Petty squabbles
Rendered insignificant.
Each of us an
Improbable,
Precious passenger
Navigating the
Vastness of space.
It Might Have Been
Sitting on a bench
In a garden,
Looking out over
A placid pond,
He wonders whether
It might have
Been different,
Memory embellishing
What never was.
Absences
In a small town
Bereft of opportunity,
He wanders slowly
Toward school,
Stopping along the
Way to throw rocks
At various things,
Smack light poles
With his skateboard.
At some point during
The day, the guidance
Counselor will confront
Him about his many
Absences and force
Another lengthy lecture
On him, all about how
He’s throwing his
Future down the drain.
At home, his mother
Screams at her
Latest boyfriend,
The one she chooses
Over him all the time.
He dreams of a day
When he can get away,
Have a room of his own,
Forget everything.