Little Red Button
If there was a button would you push it?
To end your stream of consciousness?
Lights out.
Game over.
Next.
No pain, just instant black (or white).
Would you do it just to see what’s next?
Or for an escape pod off of this rock of pain?
A little red button.
Right now, next to your bed.
Push to get off.
To Get Out.
For when All Hope Is Lost.
Well.
DON’T!
If not for the ones who love you.
If not for your lobster brain.
Black Dog
The Black Dog is being lonely in a house full of beings.
The Black Dog is listening to the same songs you have each time he bites, from bitten minds, you can relate to.
The Black Dog is staring at a wall completely awake, just not in that current space or time.
The Black Dog is fear, irrational fear of leaving your home, fear of conversation, not with strangers, but with people you know, the fear of them seeing the fear in your eyes and judging you after you’re gone.
The Black Dog is the flashing images of a life after this and the guilt for wondering if it’s better, if it’s free of Black Dogs.
The Black Dog is intrusive thoughts of the tools used to create a path to that other life, thereafter, the rope, the blade, the crashing high speed metal.
The Black Dog is hatred of you.
The Black Dog is belief in others opinions.
The Black Dog is seeing only pain and suffering in an otherwise beautiful world.
The Black Dog is seeing too much beauty in the world.
The Black Dog is numb, cold, yet loyal.
The Black Dog is always there, even if you manage to lock him outdoors in a winter kennel; he doesn’t age, he doesn’t die, he dies with you.
The Black Dog is the cruelest friend you know, but a friend none the less.
The Black Dog is a quick path back to all those memories that shaped you, rearranged you.
The Black Dog can be a force of good, when he’s asleep, yet accept he will again, always, wake, sometimes when you least expect him.
The Black Dog is a rabid, whining, foul beast from the hell of your heart and the sickness in your soul.
But the Black Dog is you, a part of you, make him your friend, take him for a walk and pat his head. Feed him with art and with prose, with tune and with toil.
Tell him he’s a good boy, and throw him your thoughts to fetch with a smile.
Remembrance
This love
Why do you haunt me this way
With everything
Everything
There was nothing left
to keep me away
Your voice
some nights
still sings
And finds me in melody
At the piano curve of the day
I'm weary
Leery of voices
That whisper my dreams to sleep
And everything
Everything
There is nothing left
to keep from me
Oh this love
And what I remember most
All the tragedies and miracles
We once spoke
Because life
was just living
between Suns
When in the moonlight and dark skies
We'd come undone so many times
That on stormy nights the thunder
Went unnoticed
This love
This love, I remember most
ROAD TO RIO
Sights set, ready to behold,
A plethora of talents that will go on show
In a city that is well known
For its lovely latinas and footballing ‘pros’
Ready we are, can’t wait for Re-owe
But not without obstacles,
From constant drug battles
Marring the sport, the few bad apples
That can never break free, from the mental shackles
The persistent villains,
The superheroes are task to tackle
Nevertheless we still await,
Medals in abundance, to celebrate
Moments in history that will resonate
Like the vibrations hitting the pot covers make
Footprints in the sand of time create
Singing and chanting the name of our very greats
But thrills is not without spills
So get that cabinet stocked with pills,
When cometh the spoiler you want to kill
Who has worked his socks off in his bid
Even when for him the stage was not built
But opinions after the fact, value nil
