The Rich Child… A Reality

Mikie 10F

The Rich Child

I grew up a rich child…
Rich in finding ways to entertain myself
Rich in having beautiful thick woods to explore
Behind my house
Complete with two ponds…
A very ummm… rustic treehouse
Crudely nailed to a huge old oak
Where the sound of cougars
Echoed through the night…
I was rich because I grew up
The forgotten middle child
Where I could roam free
And no one would miss me…
I was rich when I walked along
The railroad tracks
And lingered with the hobos
Making camp in the old
Deserted shale pit
Which often provided many hours
Of intrigue for a boy of ten…
Learning so young that life
Was often a struggle
While strangers offered to share
Their only can of beans…
I was a rich child
Because I survived scarlet fever
When I was twelve
Back in the days when there were many
Who did not…
I never could quite rise above the fray
Yet I still learned how to dance
Inside the rain…

I grew up a rich child
Sharing a room with a brother
Four years my elder
Who gave to me freely
The top bunk…
I was enriched with humbleness
With the birth of a sister
Ten years my junior
The ascendant child
In a too crowded world
Of the light
Of the verse
Of the rhyme…

I grew up in riches
With lies of the father
Deceit of the sister
And flight of the brother…
A mother
Who struggled to tend…
But I dwelled in riches
For I was forgotten
And left for the vultures to mend…
But the creatures all gathered around me
And lifted me far out to sea
Where family failed
To look in my eyes
I still found the way to be me…

The Rich Child 33

The Stain

The Stain

It doesn’t really matter
If it comes out in the wash
The stain
Will still remain
Within the weave

It may not be
Too visible
In the lamplight
Of the room
But the dawn still has its way
Of resurrection

A pill may hide the truth
From what is real
For just a moment
But a moment
Never changed
What we believe

So it doesn’t really matter
If the bones
Are buried deep
The stain
Will still remain
Within the weave

Michael33

The Stranger in My Chair

aye-aye

Photograph by Unknown

The Stranger in my Chair

As I was dozing in my chair
On a most sunny Sunday afternoon
I suddenly realized that I was drifting
In the corner of the room
Near the ceiling
Looking down at the old fart
Dozing in my chair…
A stranger I did not recognize…
 
He didn’t appear to be aging well…
Or gracefully…
The wrinkles around his eyes
Beginning to resemble the canals
Of Thailand…
His hair turning gray in patches
As if there were perhaps
Warthogs in his ancestry…
His beard of mostly white
Looked as if the old man had fallen
Face first into a bucket of
Tom Sawyer’s whitewash…
His ears sticking out like those
Of an Aye-aye…
Perhaps a mere semblance of myself…
If I were as old as he…
 
I glanced around the room
In an attempt to determine
Just why I was lingering high
Against the ceiling of this room…
Watching an old man doze
In my favorite chair of all places…
Or was he dozing?
I could hear no breath
From his languished form…
Perhaps he wasn’t asleep at all
But had instead passed into
The realms of another world…
I looked around the room
Thinking that he too
May be adrift in the atmosphere
Lingering in wonderment
As was I…
But the room was void of others
In this moment
Floating weightlessly…
I… the only spook upon the ceiling…
 
Lingering in the moment…
In my own perplexity…
I pondered…
Searching frantically for a reasonable explanation…
Just a simple annotation of the moment…
And then I thought…………………………….
“Ohhhh, shit!”

Michael33

Copyright 2016

To Ponder the Choice

Ponder the Choice

To Ponder the Choice

Awakening to the sound of thunder
Rain beating against the windows
As if in desperation
To paw my mirthless face…

Opening the blinds I could see the lightning
Stretching cross clouds of ebon
In fingers of fire
As if reaching for something
They could never touch…
Yet… I could feel them tasting
My hungry heart
Like the pain of the innocent soul
Searching through the Wheatfields of Vincent
Expecting forgiveness from the murder of crows…

The wind howling
Like ghosts of the asylum
Trapped within the walls
Of their own torment…
The willow bowing to the breath of God
To the east… then to the west
As if unsure from where fate
May call its name…

Still I wander in hope of peace
Throughout the world
And within my mind…
For the lives that are lost in the storm…
Of justice served for the innocent soul…
For the children who walk in the rain
Where pain lies hidden in boxes of clay
And beneath the depths of their slumber…

But the storm did not cease its fury…
The wind carried voices of reason
Far beyond the horizons of sanity…
Traces of life swirling in the vortex
Scattering the broken pieces
Across the hillsides and into the valleys
To the tallest peak of the mountain top
And beneath the surface of the sea…
While nary that of a single soul
Would travel a road leading nowhere
To pick up the shattered pieces of another

The storm’s path undulating
To the south and then to the north
Ingurgitating the memories of the innocent
As if winding its way to death itself
Amongst the amber grain…

Suddenly the quietude of surrender
Shadowed my soul
While celestial beings wandered
Forgotten roads into Eden
Calling my name
In the songs of sparrows

I could no longer linger in my indecision
Mortality fading in the tempest
Like the fog inhaled
By the dawn of morning’s light

Life had crawled so far
Beyond antipathy
While the gathering crowds
Of those above the shadows
Watched…
I muse upon the passion
Of those who dwell in immortality…
As I turn to the east…
And then to the west…
My mind wandering in and out
Of reality’s truth…
For it is the choice of life in desperation
Or of death of physicality
That must be absolute…
For within that resolution…
Within this very moment…
I ponder.;.

Michael33

Copyright © 2015

Crystal Condensation

photo credit: Days End via photopin (license)

photo credit: Days End via photopin (license)

Good evening to all my readers.  I must offer my apologies for a lapse in posts over the past week.  It seems my health decided to take some giant steps backward and I’ve spent the past week living in the dark ages… Both of my ongoing major illnesses combined their efforts and succeeded in incapacitating my physical abilities.  There were moments that I was tempted to wave the white flag and surrender.  I didn’t.  You’re stuck with me for a while longer… although it did an excellent job of transposing my mind into realms of darkness where I wandered through worlds of unpleasantness that I didn’t think anyone should have to wander while in their humanness.  I was wrong.  Today… I am somewhat better… So please enjoy tonight’s post and I hope to continue posting more often…

May your evening be filled with well-being… and beautiful moments…

Crystal Condensation
 
Sometimes life’s peculiarities
Lie far beyond our control
Discovering perhaps a missing piece
While fitting the parts to the whole
 
Like puzzles upon the table cloth
With an empty misshapen space
A box with only cardboard shards
Where nothing falls into place
 
Sometimes we fill our empty space
With abstract intellections
And mistakenly search for perfectness
Within life’s imperfections
 
Like bottles upon the table cloth
Iced with anticipation
Plans get changed, while the wine remains
In crystal condensation
 
Sometimes we wander from the path
While lost in conversation
Searching through some darkened cave
With sensuous contemplation
 
Like shadows upon the table cloth
As the crimson fades to night
While folded hands remain untouched
In a single candle’s light
 
Sometimes we linger inside time
Till moments pass us by
Thoughts in rhymes of what was missed
No longer asking why
 
Like secrets shared round the table cloth
With the breath of obfuscation
Plans get changed, while life remains
In crystal condensation

© Copyright 2015 All Rights Reserved

Thank you for dropping by…

Michael33