Loss of Time

Proving A Point

Years are sneaky

they slip on by

in the crisis of life

in the wink of an eye

within all the strife

there goes your last sigh

Dealing With Loss….

Mother's poemMy mother’s warm house is now empty.

Her laugh, her laugh no longer rings throughout

my life, but I take comfort in the stars

A blanket of stars never meant so much,

but now they stand for all the times

giggles bounced off my bedroom walls, as

my squirming body was tucked in by 

by warn tired hands; my mother’s hands

Billions, no trillions of stars to

guide me, to show me the way

in dark uncertain times just as

my mother’s words have guided

me countless times before

Lastly, she had a smile that

brightened my life and I find

this too in the stars.

I look to the know blurry galaxy

and whisper, “Goodnight,

I love you mom.”


Posted Up In the Emergency Room

After the emergency room they move you upstairs
once they know you won’t die right away,
it’s always just better that way,

It’s 3am and the ambulance is still bringing guests in
well, tonight the place is booked like a five star hotel
I wish for once it was like a shanty run down motel.

The nurse just came in and informed us
we will be stuck with a curtain as a door
And old blood stains upon the floor

His Gurney was wet,
he was uncomfortable,
but the least of his worries was this small detail.

Dirt and blood stained the pristine white sheets
but soon to be gone
when the new bed could be retrieved.

Even the bed was one of their last.
Where is our ticket home you might ask?
Well, it comes with an x-ray at nine am.

Nine am is when we shall see
exactly how terrible the two holes in his lungs actually might be.
Nine am is when we shall see
exactly if he might need surgery on his wrecked right knee.

the nurse asks on a scale of one to ten,
but I believe the sale is unfitting
by my calculations, where I’m sitting-

11 for the broken leg,
5 at least for the broken rib
3 apiece for the two holes in the lungs

my addition is sound,
and to me,
22 it looks to be around.

P.T.S.D and 1% Milk

Tap. Tap. Tap.

She looks at me and waits

If I leave will I find you again?

I know it’s just to the back of the store

What if I can’t find you?

I can’t do today

So many people, so many strangers

“Go get the milk” she said

God, I’m 21 and I’m broken

What is wrong with me?

Why does my brain have to be broken today?

Yesterday I shopped just fine by myself!

One step, two steps, three seconds of holding

My breath…

Time is slowing and speeding up

People are blurring. Am I drunk?

Why can’t I breathe? It’s just 1% milk…

My soul; a small piece of Coal

I am no more just a Dusty blackened coal
The flakes of my past lift, breaking off
To drift with the wind
I don’t know what was there before, But
your impulsive kiss was a spark
that Grew into a waving flame.
It was the hushed whisper Of shared feelings, like kindling
who built a fire, licking my soul, warm at first
then the confusion set In.
Your indecisive actions…one minute wanting
The next minute leaving. The fire kept building
Consuming, with nowhere to go, only left to combust
It had to stop! It had to stop?
a bucket of sorrow, letting go,
then a plume of smoke rises in the air and when it clears
I am no more, Just a dusty blackened coal.

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