why have we forsaken we

when in living off the twilight

inside the erosion of my mind

sometimes i snap sharply from my American

airconditioned nightmare

the balance of me

realizing my internet speed

was a negative impact

on some email or another

the twilight lit up

soon enough when heavy fueled Fedex trucks

delivered my pampered cats’ designer litter

the pipeline took by cyber rooks

named after a Stan Lee caricature

tired from tapping orders and griping

of how the strain in my eyes

wont let me binge watch

zombies and madonnas later tonight

when living in the hologram of prescriptive mindfulness

a new normal cast upon my head

no longer should i be disturbed

and once the tiny caffeine shots

have done their job

all major asshole media cocks

begrudgingly agree

that the Arabs are bombing the Jews again

slapping of wrists from the lips in the oval coffin

my spirit starts to sit upon my couch

the people of my mother

the people of my neighbors

the people who bother no one

in their daily toil to survive

to see their little ones grow

my attention pulled out

looking out the front door

quasi worried about the power grid

the electrical giggles sprouting

from kindergarten kiddos

sadden my heart

why have we forsaken we

two feathers

before this moment
i didnt want to kiss your lips
stroke your cheek or bury my pain in your hair
before the moon put on her gown to hide the scars paparazzied by the sun
i didn’t want to hide in that deep well of your warm strong arms for fear of being sold down that cold toxic emotional river
before you before tomorrow before my death two feathers from your wings fell into my poisoned dream turning them into golden keys opening a paradise

Featuring – The Sound of Brilliance by Susi Bocks (Author)

Introducing the first anthology produced by The Short of It. This anthology features the brilliant work of 41 poets and writers. The pieces within these pages are the best of those submitted and showcased on The Short of It online magazine. The Short of It is the brainchild of none other than our fellow blogger, […]

Featuring – The Sound of Brilliance by Susi Bocks (Author)

She waits for us

words less spoken

no answer is also an answer

🦅 Hopi Proverb

to stare into the blank horizon

it lacks the pastel colors mother used to love

we the silent types proud and self assured cowards or lost fools

makes very little difference

to tighten my jaw as you purse your lips we know what we are thinking

we have no answer for what is happening to us

all we are not willing to admit that She is critical because of our silence

are we prepared for what comes this way as Her pulse tires and slows

the silence without bird songs is the vilest way to perish

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blue steel

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

with my fine determined sharp lines

my edges separate the somethin’ from the nothin’

and the come-hither handlin’ parts

sleek momma eye candy deluxe

making genitalia of all denomination shape and size

feel like a super daddy fuckin’ stud

i’m feeling like a blue steel gun

caught between your palm and thumb

a dialysis rig for your bad juice blood

my nuts bolts springs and inner workin’s

the physics and reasons in me aching

of no interest to you your heart or your mind

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

remember in that case where you found me

promises dowries certificated truths

stroking of the barrels looking into soot

my trigger and your raging accusin’ fingers

you offered as my wedding band

i’m feelin’ like a blue steel gun

cast out after years of deeds gone wrong

silent spitting fire of your tongue

looking out my winda’ late at night

wonderin’ why you are the way you are

we chameleons tempering our feelin’s

showcased on a devil’s iron eye

cus we’re both rusted raw on the inside

reason

home slightly gray moon shadows of the catsjeweled eyes aglowscent of orange by couchi hesitate and sigh quietly like when i pretended to prayday long hard patches of humanity where tiny flowers growred like blood warm like thunder roars when in your arms i wasbefore waking from that stagnant dreambland counter kitchen clean black red Japanese bowlholding my spaghettioswarm shower awaits ssssshhhhhhheeeeeeeit complains coconut patoulli soup loofah scrub north to souththe sin is rinsed away beloved side of bedmy body you will takeinto uneasy rest