Sad birds still sing
Sad lovers force smiles through pain
Those who are drowning still try to swim

Conditions, don't give us defenitions
We define conditions with our reactions

You can't control everything, but your reactions will always determine everything

I do not know whose eyes perceive
my finite movement toward light.

Each letting go, a small cry,
each forward move my life's
migratory assurance of what
none of us can ever know.

The genetic certainty of cells
propels the forebrain
with its stumbling feet,
while a heartache of hope
wins each moment even
as it is lost to the next.

And we must accept
the impermanent flow
that is like air, necessary
and sacred; tears are not
the only salt of sorrow.

Parents, be kind to your kids, I beg you
Harsh words spoken only scars the heart deep
Finding fault daily twists and taints one’s view
Lacking self-esteem, in silence they weep
Echoes rage within, words are useless now
Poison slowly spreads, seeping dark and deep
A tattoo beats out – you’re worthless, a vow
What the parent sows, the child now reaps
A lifelong struggle for self-love ensues
Medicine to cope with depression’s call
Sanity slips, leaving only the blues
She yearns for self-love, but ends up short; falls
Parents, be kind to your kids, I beg you
So life is light and hope is always renewed.

Kelly Rose
© August 12, 2017

at times I lust at Bukowski's rambling,
others, I see him as a drunk got lucky
Stammering
lost his feelings of poorness
and suffering when he made it big.
I promise to always be
a fine cultured nice laughing
drunk poet whatever what.
Never to put down poetry readings
like I am some God or better
than anyone.

There is malintent
maliciousness
by a maleficent
monster of a man.

Long ago destruction
became the landscape.
Bullet and bomb holes
punctured the earth.

Though once a field
of fetid forms
filthy with decay
where all the bodies laid
now there is no more smoke.
Here sweet roses grow.

Instead, there are new
war wounds.
Violence blooms.
Each day new battles loom
one man wears down
one woman’s defenses.

For what it’s worth
her heart hurts worse.
Her skin was swollen
and very bruised.
Despite the truth
and her trust issues
she tried to stay
and weather his
horrible ways.

Until, one day
her face collapsed
under his furious force,
and her body went limp
as life divorced,
soul torn from flesh.

How is it possible??? What can be done??? I swear my Heart told me you were the one.......

Don't Understand it, Could it be true??? I was mistaken... it wasn't
Suppose to be you????

This can't happen, Never!!!...Our bond so strong it would last Forever.

Now that all has been said and done... How do I tell myself, You
Were not The One.

when the tide is high
fish are splashing on main street
the ground water begins to taste
like the Atlantic ocean
soon Florida Margaritas will not need
salt on the rim of their cocktail glasses
their lemons will have enough

to protects its citizens
from the dire consequences of rising sea levels
the state government acted
fast and furious
and has bann(on)ed terms like
“climate change” and “global warming”
from its official vocabulary

A country road has spoke to me
Narrowly rolling out 'cross twitching grass
The wind, impatiently describes
The sea I will be crossing with a gust

We friends speak of longing, spoke of leaving
And leave I did, left you behind
Return made quickly, for I reeled
In much to do, though little told

And you saw in me, not your friend
But your friend's friend, a soul without
And gone was the boy you dreamed about
As friends do, at times

But not for better, nor for less
We spoke of what you'd lost
And I told what I had found
What learnt travellers on roads like mine

All the wonderous minds you meet
Shine like medals in your eyes
Each footstep placed broadly ahead
Lifts your feet that little more

Each lonely mountain conquered makes
Your loneliness more comforting and
Each piece of silver found and spent
Is a strand in your feathered coat

'What day we meet, some other day
Our paths should cross when I return
Or you, hungering on words I spoke
Came to find me and find me do

You'll see me at the riverside
A cup in hand, a hand on heart
A heart for her, and then you'll see
What medals in my eyes shine forth
As we turn to greet each other again'

The sun shone down
upon us.
It glowed.
A star, a shining ball,
mass and lava
light and gas,
it warms us all.

I'm stumbling like a toddler in a room.
My hands are on my sides plane-like in the air
trying to give me some balance, to keep me from falling.
My feet hurt and are clumsy, they're not used to this.
I'm using my father's shoes.

I'm wearing them to feel like an adult,
like one of those old humans who go and live an adult life,
but my father's shoes are too big for my baby feet,
no matter how hard I try, they just don't fit.

But I keep doing it.
I'm not alone in this room,
There's no way I would be doing this just for myself,
maybe at the beginning, when it was fun.
My family is staring at me.

They are all expectators.
Of this crazy show I'm directing,
Half thinking I'm cute for pretending to be one of them.
The other half's just waiting for the moment I trip and start crying.

My father's shoes are too big for me,
This adult mockery is not for me,
Just as I realize about this.

I trip.

I’m watching the trees dance under
paling sky’s thick cerulean shadow,
wondering if they’re like me.

                 Wondering if the bioelectrical fibers
                 twisting through the trunk of my neck
                 are like the gusts of wind braiding their branches.

                             Wondering if it keeps them awake,
                             or if it lulls them into enduring slumber.


I’m losing hours behind my circuitous strides through
conscious coma,
pondering those incessant curiosities of
permanent sleep
that so often plague the restless furrows of my stormy mind.


She’s looking at me like
I’m broken again, following me
out the door and impulsively pining
for a fix she couldn’t understand.
For sanguine is the nature of this
four-legged creature so stubborn
and at my heels. Striving to help
as she so often does.

But I’m not broken. No.
I’m comfortably subdued by the soothing
song of sinuous water cascading through
calloused toes, and the weight of
the stained notebook resting on my lap,
whose pages cradle the words of
psychological shadow flowing through my
murky
     streams
              of
                 consciousness.

These are the words that release me.
That so seamlessly pair
the id with the ego and put me to
sleep atop dew-lit grass.
The words that purge me of insanity, and pave my path
to self-discovery.

She knows this too,
Her primordial mind somehow
knows it and yes,
Yes it fixes me.

There is a slight heartache
but not as bad as it could be
because it is so familiar to me.
It came when and where
I was expecting it be,
like a gut shot
when I tensed my stomach.
I wasn’t flummoxed,
just a little ******,
and annoyed
cause I am tired of
the girls I like
putting up with so much
from the bad boys
while I toil to cultivate
and perfect
this nice guy shtick.
Till the person I want to be
is the person I have become;
Kinder, gentler, compassionate,
stronger, and faster
with more endurance,
but the man I want to be
seems to be a hindrance.
So, it comes to this
must I sacrifice
the person I strive to be
or suffer alone for eternity?

on
  the
     river
where
  
a twig
  leaf
    a bit of
there

float
   down
       stream
aware

the tug
    tow
       drift
abounds

I feel
    almost
        calm
surrender

to life's
     magnets
         cores
electrons

all that's
      in me
          deeper
where

I feel
      that
            draw
that

picture
       of a curve
            an undertow
framed

in sudden
      cold a
           splash
wetter

than any
       euphism
            I spew
******