Tag Archives: writing

Something Simple

SOMETHING SIMPLE

Not trying to be a follower.
I know I could fall lower if I follow her.
In any weather, whether it’s fall or spring.
A certain season and seasoning, mixed in with reason and reasoning.

I’m a carpet dweller with my eyes on the screen.
You’re a fast food truck, racing far from serene.

This medium of mediocrity.
This hyper hypocrisy.
Each company’s compendium, comatose complicity.

Hold up. Wait a minute. Let me put some thought back in it.

Maybe it’s a Mirage, and I don’t mean whores in casinos.
These deserted visions showcase lies and libidos.
I’ll keep the wool near my eyes; see, I’ve got allergies to synthetics.
And I’ll break out in hives near peripatetics; that’s pathetic.

Holy mother and father who art in heaven, aren’t in heaven.

It’s all just guessing.
And blessing’s nothing more than wishful thinking
And hoping that this whole world stops sinking.

Under green lights, but the traffic’s slow.
The power’s running out and the candle’s low.
Found the land with the sand to escape the snow.
Curtain calls fall in the final show.

But I don’t like funerals; I’m not a mourning person.
I battle for the better, but waiting on the worse and…

This life is theoretically, hermetically sealed
Until the ribs are broken open and the heart is revealed.

Surprise! It’s eyes shooting truth through lies.
And clouds are shrouds hiding sun from skies.

This central nervous pervis system got caught red-handed, but I found the victim.
It’s me, Killer B, with the stinger in hand,
Using ink when I think to establish a plan.

Map a course, of course, whether smooth or coarse.
Saddle up the steed, but don’t force the horse.

Leave a trail of crazy Craisins to backtrack home.
Take a seat and slide down into the comfort zone.

She stands waiting by the door, all pretty and pale.
After years of bated breath, I can finally exhale.

Adolescence Interrupted

…and stop killing animals.

Sharpened Perspective

Thank you for being a wonderful mother

It’s often too easy to get lost in the mundanity of daily life. The interval between turning a white noise sleep machine off and turning it on again can feel like a timeless loop of repetitive habits, vibrating on skipping needles, powered by hamster wheels.

My Groundhog Days are normally of little concern. I accept that baby steps lead to Olympian leaps, so I tackle my routine tasks and always sweat the small stuff. As a writer and proofreader, details are kind of a big deal. These are my cards, and I’m happy to play them.

But, sometimes—even when the marathon tennis sessions have beaten my body and emptied my energy reserves—I find myself squirming inside my skin for a change of pedestrian pace.

Normally, I ignore these impulses and continue punching computer keyboards in my never-ending attempt to accumulate tension headaches. But, two weeks ago, I was delivered a surprise fuel injector in the form of a fellow tennis aficionado from NY with the desert on her mind and a pro tournament in her sights.

Mom knows just when to rescue her overthinking, word wrestler of a son from his stationary bike, and exactly how to throw some excitement and a change of scenery into the mix.

It was just what the proverbial doctor ordered, and I was able to unplug and detach from the busy, serpentine track of LA life.

My chiropractor believes that the mountains in Palm Springs have a way of inexplicably extracting the stress from our bodies and, although I don’t normally subscribe to  teachings of the mystic variety, I’d have to agree with him.

So, now it’s back to work and back to that hamster wheel. But, like mainlining lemon-lime Gatorade, I feel refreshed and ready for the race ahead.

Thanks, Mom…for always knowing what I need, even when I don’t.