THE RED LINE

THE RED LINE

Monday, July 27, 2015

I'm Not Like You -- #POETVERITAS



 



I'M NOT LIKE YOU


I go home at night to a place like no place you've ever lived

everything in its proper position, perfect, all angles squared

cold, clean, sharp edges - no curves or softness

only razor precision.

Mirrors and glass and polished stone.

No sound gets in or escapes.

I am sealed in tight for the night.

Thermostat at exactly fifty five degrees.

And when at last I pick up my book to read,

I pay no attention to the written lines...

Just to the secret meanings of greater thoughts and grander feelings unwritten between them.

And I am not like you, nor am I like any other,

And the voices racing through my mind are telling me things

That you could not bear to hear.



-[]- 



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Sunday, July 19, 2015

Don't Give Up On Yourself - Ever -- #POETVERITAS

Don't Give Up On Yourself - Ever

Do not be consumed with self-loathing when you are set upon by a barrage of seemingly relentless, merciless failures;

Do not be dissuaded of your value, your ability or your prospects by slips and falls,
nor of the ill-spirited laughter that echoes in the wake of a minor setback, nor of the catcalls of those who have settled into complacency and embraced mediocrity;

Ignore the bitter comments about your shortcomings that are uttered by those jaded souls who have given into despair and cynicism;

It only takes a single success to offset a lifetime of failed attempts.

Every single day, you are reborn into a world of new possibilities.

Be inspired. Persist. Persevere.

Don't give up on yourself - ever.



/^/^/^/^/*


 

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Thursday, July 16, 2015

My Dance With The #Stalker -- #POETVERITAS

MY DANCE WITH THE #STALKER


You appeared in a tiny corner box-shaped window on my computer screen;
Unrequested. Unbidden. Suddenly. Startling me.
A rendered, cleanly typed

"Hello" 

out of thin air from an anonymous wraith of cyberspace.
I clicked on a small "x" in the upper left-hand corner of your stolen space and you vanished; only to reappear each time I sat down, shuddering slightly, to turn my computer on.
Undeniable and unforgettable, you reappeared with your sparse, alien communication:

"Hello. I'm watching you."

And for fully four months, you were a constant in my life. Appearing on my screen at your whim.
Knowing me through all that I viewed, and wrote and read.

"Hello. I'm watching you."

So simple, yet so powerful and invasive.
Eyes watching my every living moment through a one-sided screen...
Knowing my every longing, my every indiscretion, my every sin, my every doubt, my every move...
My unknowable companion.
My response was unnecessary. You knew me. You had me.

"Hello. I'm watching you."

It's been four months, and you have ceased to appear.
You have just vanished.
I have failed you.
I was neither interesting nor engaging enough to hold your attention.
And I find that I crave that mysterious attention now that you have stolen it from me.

And through your non-communication you have spoken volumes.
I turn on my computer with guilty, half-hopes that I will find your trace, your presence there,
making me feel desired... making me important...
But my half-hopes are fast fading into feelings of finality.

I am no longer the star in a movie watched by an invisible audience in a blind theater -

Without you, #Stalker, I am nobody.

Once again, I am nobody.

Once again, I am utterly and totally alone.



(.......?.......) 




 


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Friday, July 10, 2015

FREEDOM -- #POETVERITAS



FREEDOM

An empire built upon repression must fall;
as surely as a crack, like a vein, in a wall
grows larger with each frost and thaw
and with the pounding, upon the earth
of freedom's inevitable footsteps, so it, once mighty,
crumbles -

Every fateful act is voluntary
and every thought your own,
and just below the somber surface of oppression
runs the river of freedom
and the water of life -

Let no captive be complacent,
let no spirit be resigned,
 for freedom's longing can never, will never,
be contained by chains or fences
or be, with mortal defeat, aligned -

And, above all else, be ever vigilant,
 of those subtle macerations of sacred liberty
under guise of loyalty, patriotism or Greater Good,
for the flag that represents you must be your very own -

Kill for it, or die for it,
but do not take it for granted:
It is everything.

~~~

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Sunday, July 5, 2015

Patriot Park -- #POETVERITAS --



PATRIOT PARK

Everyone had scattered.

I clearly remember hearing the distant, solitary squalling of a little
baby's cry, and the indifferent peal of a church bell from the next
town as the swollen sky rapidly darkened and spilled its heaviest rain,
turning the open field into a muddy marsh, replete with the leavings of
a hastily abandoned cardboard sign, and paper plates, and half-eaten
ice cream cones, and at least one knitted pink sweater with a bright
yellow smiley face button pinned upon it (looking blindly upward at no
one in particular).

The air smelled of a recent wood fire, reduced to
steaming, hissing embers as a somber prelude to inevitable extinguishment.

After a few minutes, a deathly quiet descended upon the entire world
as one of the young, uniformed soldiers bend down and proceeded, with
meticulous attention, to wipe the clods of muck from his parade boots with the
sodden flag of the nation that had once been mine.

Unseen, I slogged my way toward the row houses across from the parking lot.

---------------

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