the phone rang at 03:08

unknown number

Well, the bleeding wound
on his forehead prevented him
from sleeping anyway

He picked up
"Yeah?"

"Hey," a girl's voice said. "Are
you the guy who
has a thing for crazy girls fresh out
of the psych ward?"

"What?"

"Am I speaking to the guy who's
very much into dating
**** girls with mental issues that
other guys refer to as red flags?"

"Who is this?" he asked

"Oh no, this is not
about me. I just wanted to
introduce you to my sister. I think she
fits the bill quite perfectly
with you. What do you say?"

He sighed. "Tell her I'll call back
once my current girlfriend
breaks up with me. I hope she's patient. It'll
take a good couple of hours. Bye."

He hung up

Bound to Downward
___
Trickle--
bound to downward
  faceted presence of light
   weedling its yielded way
    to a lower level
     Smoothly pouring payment
      to tributary
Now creek is bludgeoned
by sudden stones
Stone remains....
Water is stunned plunder
     carried off
      toward hammering bastions

This is the duality..the

Separation..which serves

To comfort those searching

For meaning..in what seems..

We search and stumble and

Search more to fill that

Interminable gap..

A lifetime of searching..?

Apparently the Truth eludes..

Until a calm or stormy day

Arrives..and Nothing

Introduces Itself as

Everything...

Eyes drifting
In waiting,
Silently,
              Gazing
In vain,
Despite it,
He enlarged them
Widely opened, as if
Searched for something interesting,
Very
Carefully,
                  Silently,

Like a lazy bear, he put it on the old wooden table.
Carefully,
             refolding
his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
stripping
Carefully,
a tinny piece,
rolling himself,
In still noise
a cigarette of
Powerful
low-graded
rustika,
a variety of
great purge
hunger
killing
good reason,
One pack a day
It helped, like hell
Helped.

It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
starved,
Makhorka,
insecticide
of freedom.

Silently,
Looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Carefully,
                   Silently.

when silence breeds discontent
and critics ensnare your feet
in a morass of minutiae
amplify your truth

when gossip makes
a mischief of reality
stand your ground
command all energy
toward positivity

never relent because
others seek to mold you
in their stale likeness
never submit to quietude
when you are gifted
a poetic voice

It's your obligation
to subjugate negation
and contort vexation
into your own narration
toward personal salvation
Your thoughts, your creation
only your fingers, the translation

Never submit to false authority
lies, malice do not signify you
hold your head high
Look to the stars
and dream in words
again

When I was an
ideal and dreamy teenager walking amidst the
trees in the backyard,
there, curled up beneath a pine, I discovered a small creature and stared at it.
I gently picked it up and held it to
my chest.
It opened its eyes.
I felt The power within .
It went back to sleep,
and I set it down.

The next morning
when I walked
out the back door,
headed for school,
the little creature
was sitting there,
wide awake,
looking up at me.
It had the most
unreal looking eyes.
They seemed to change color.
Apart from English and art class, I hated school.
I didn't quite fit in .
I had good friends,
but I always felt lonely.
Bouts of melancholia struck me at the strangest times,
soon after, I found
it to be the
terminal affliction of being a poet.

I stayed home from school that day and played with the
creature.
It seemed to
hear me, almost understand me.
I liked the feeling.
it became my
best friend.

I fed it every day
and it grew and became unruly and hard to control at times, but overall, it caused me much more joy than pain, way back then.
I missed it when it
was gone,
and threw my arms around it when it
came home.
I named it buffer
because it was an equalizer for me,
and the world, and pain,
It went inbetween the sharpness and vividness, in which I didn't know how to cope.

It got big
and became
a beast.
I had a love / hate relationship with
the thing.
I sacrificed a lot
for it at the
altar of idolatry.
It wouldn't let anyone get close to me,
My wife, my kids,
I chased them
all away.
I was alone with
the beast.

After years of
pain and degradation,
I put the beast down.
I shot it in
the back of the
head, like a rabid dog.

Life raged on.
Pain and joy came with equal measure,
but I no longer
needed a buffer to
keep living, laughing, and learning.
I finally figured
out how to
truly love.