Lilies on the Floor

I can’t stop quaking
My hands are shaking.
There’s glass everywhere,
Blood on the floor,
Smeared over the door.
Oh god,
What have we done here?
Lilies on the floor.
Purple and blue,
Like the bruises
Left on you,
And I’m ripping
Bone from tendon.
Tell them I’m sending
All of us on a one way
Track, no returning.
Because I can’t stop quaking.
My hands are shaking.
There’s flesh and bone everywhere.

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There’s A Man

There’s a man at my door.
He’s not moving anymore.
He just stares,
Icy blue and brown,
Through the concrete
At me.

There’s a man at my window.
He’s not breathing anymore.
He just taps,
Clicky clack and double rap,
Through the pane
To me.

There’s a man in my room.
He’s here with me.
He just stands,
Staring and stroking my cheek,
Through my skin,
Bleeding me.


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Numbered Days 4/365

My heart could be filled

But truth be told …

My days are numbered here.

This disease is terminal.

The doctors don’t know what to do.

“Well,” he says as he raps spindly hands

“You can’t stay forever in the land of the damned.”

Indeed Father Time.

It appears I’ve been diagnosed with life.

I can’t stop my feet from wandering

Or my mind from pandering

The sweet effects of a sunset over the sea.

I suddenly, it seems, have things

I need to be

Rather than this old burnt out bag of flesh

And crumbling calcium deposits collected for me.

So tell me dear, tell me love

You know our days are numbered here …

What Secrets This Lake Keeps

What secrets this lake keeps
When the dark nights rain
And it’s just humid enough
For the lake to stain
With the ghost of clouds
That couldn’t quite take flight.
There’s a story here
Only unfolding in those nights.
Billy lives in that mansion across the way.
Him, his mistress and a perfect family.
He shines the spotlight over the lake
When the fogs settle in thick.
Billy claims it’s for the speedsters,
Whipping in and out,
Keeps them quick.
But I know the truth,
Of Billy and the lake
And the girl he vowed to take
As his first, his wife.
His heart and soul she was.
Until one day sweet Billy found her
Facedown in the red mud;
Gunshot wounds
To the back and head.
The gun was his
And sweet Billy was no saint.
Scared, he hid
Her body at the bottom of the lake.
Now he shines his spotlight,
When the fogs coat the waters thick
To keep the specter of his love
From spilling his secrets like oil slicks.


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Songs of the Lonely

“The lunatic is on the grass …”

Picture and a poem, what a treat neither have anything to do with actual treats though.

Picture day 2 of 365 is here.

Songs of the lonely
Coming through.
Tears on parade
With mascara running down their face.
Hands shoved into pockets,
Coats turned up to the wind,
As the band marches by
With armies of aching hearts
At their side.
Well look at us now,
What have we done?
Spinning, spinning,
The band marches on.
Brass and bracket,
Drum corp beats,
Perfect harmonies
For songs of the lonely,
Passing each other in the street.


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Whisper Your Name

I guess I’m liking the open nature of the prompt today. Two posts

WordPress Daily Prompt – Almost

Today,
I almost said your name out loud,
Like a ghost haunting the doors to my mind
You’re always there but rarely do I find …
But today,
I almost didn’t whisper your name to the clouds,
Instead I choked on the word,
Fearful that somehow you’d hear.
And today,
I learned why I can’t yell your name in the crowd
And why I wonder if I should know your songs at all.
Our greatest fear has always been falling.
Today,
I almost hit the ground.

Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscopes of colors splash the ground
Circled by shadows of wonders now drowned.
Children now grown stand by and fawn
Toward the cloudless fading dawn.
The woman in the chair rolls down the hill
The only witness won’t sit still.
The woman in the chair rolls down the hill
Toward the cloudless fading dawn.
Children now grown stand by and fawn
Circled by shadows of wonders now drowned.
Kaleidoscopes of colors splash the ground


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