They were like cut flowers,
arranged but deranged in some
basic way, which is to say, their
smiles were frozen, never chosen.
They did not cheer;  they mirrored
one another. They did not lead;
they followed. Their laughter was
hollow. Their problems stemmed
from being cut from their emotional
roots:  They'd root for the home
team, but it seemed they'd never
grow, never know the joy of letting
go, only the cant, the chanting
of school yells, a fool's hell
for not feeling. At best, their
beauty was pressed and dried;
Too bad they died, devoid of
themselves. We must put them
on our shelves to gather dust.

TOD HOWARD HAWKS

Shut down.
Rejected.
Left out to dry.

Options,
Elective,
Might soon pass you by.

Don’t get
Dejected.
I’ll tell you why.

You’re not
Infected.
You’re still getting by

You just need
Perspective,
Not sugary lies.

So just be
Reflective,
See your limit’s the sky.

Then not to the
Collective,
But to the moonlight,

You’ll be
Connected.
And find peace in the night.

Tribute
Erected.
It’ll all be alright.

By day, I followed her around and watched her every move, for she was bigger than life itself. But when the sun went down, she would change into her uniform and go out into the summer evening. Busing it she'd go to the local factory and work on an assembly line. They made confectionery sweets there, and when the boss discarded them for being broken or imperfect, he allowed the staff to take them home to their families. I'd sit at home doing my homework, waiting for her shift to end. Quite often I would be too tired to stay up until midnight and since I had school the next day, I'd go to bed by nine. In the morning I would find a box of pastries called Palmiers in french palmyè, sitting on the kitchen table waiting to be enjoyed.
When the sun came up we would both sit at the kitchen with a tea in hand and talk before I had to go to school. When she hugged me she smelled of spun sugar with a touch of fixative from yesterday's hairspray. All around her was a peaceful presence, as I enjoyed the warmth of her capable strong hands. That was close to sixty years ago and still today if I stand by a bakery counter taking in the scent of cakes and sweets I can still recall my mother and the way she moonlighted just to make ends meet.
Another feather in my cap of feelgood memories from days of yonder. Tune in tomorrow for another story in my lifetime.

The End.

No more days wasted running round and round
Hiding from each new unexplained sound
The negative outlook continues holding me back
It's time to get my life on track
Let past me die so I can be born once more
New confidence shining from my core
My mind will remain open my mouth will stay shut
Bedazzled jeans adorning ****
Stop creating excuses for my bad habit
My improved self is strong enough to quit!

zen master
drinks too much coffee
says to class
pardon me
leaves lotus, runs down the hall
but not fast enough


zen master
visits his sister
she hands him
new nephew.
our bodies are illusions
but shoulder puke real


zen master
ponders the spring rain
when stupid
car breaks down.
meditation does no good--
******* thing is ****


zen master
says souls can migrate
from body
to body.
unsightly skin condition
will end when you do


zen master
has the hots for jane
but he must
ignore this.
concentrate on breathing or
think about baseball
_

zen master
hates Shaysie girl lots
and wishes
she would stop
writing stupid shadormas
with him **** of joke