Pretty Bird

Squawk and dance, feathers a flutter
meaningless responses to the nuances of approval
mirrored in your master's facial ticks.

Prance and skip safe in the false security
suggested by overly familiar, seemingly knowing smiles
and shared mirth...at other's expense;
for you ARE the Pretty Bird
and above such scrutiny...
for now

Ahh there Pretty Bird... petty, shallow, pretty bird
     prettier when you were free
         prettier still before you sold your song.

You sing everyday for "someday" independence or freedom, yes,
but you sing today and you will sing tomorrow
for seed... the crumbs.. the recognition.. that
"Yes, YOU are a pretty bird";
dependent upon another's attentions
equally ensnared by their intentions.

It does not matter that the gilded cage doors are open
the windows are closed,
     and in here
          nature has no home.

Just another bird
failing to realize its wings have been
clipped...
and that yes, we ALL know the lyrics to your song.

Not Toby

You do not validate me;

I am not the solution for your guilt for

altering history and my image to validate your alibi;

your view so warped you blame the object upon which you hoist your failed projections rather than acknowledge enslavement to your own sense of entitlement.

I will not be your sycophant, panting at your every utterance;

joyfully bristling in anticipation of your shallow favor

waiting by your side to be psychically petted and whetted.

I will not ask forgiveness for my 

emotional and psychological intelligence.

Permission to embrace the knowledge of who I am and

what I am capable of is neither desired nor required,

for my self worth does not depend upon you,

as it has and will always be My back, My blood,

My karma that houses My mind, My soul.

Your words will not a "Toby" make.

While you vent and rage, cowardice holds you back;

fetal in a rabid corner of your mind;

where the cacophony of psychic damage is mistaken for righteous indignation and silence ... acquiescence.

If you can't hear the words coming out of my mouth,

deliberate and ripe with meaning and intent;

If you can't look me in-the-eye and remember

the notion of "inequality" is based on nothing more than

arbitrary benchmarks used to divide and conquer…even you;

if you can't remember

and say you are my equal,

Here's a mirror

practice until you can!

The Fallacy of Superiority

You would make of us cotton;
a "new" harvest for your reapers.

You forget...we are ALL grist;
till we are food.

BEcause

Once Lost then Found in oblivion

Chaos became the anchor.

I have been

I am

and would BE

only Me.

The true freedom of liberty…

to exist,

without reason, excuse, or permission.

Disengaged

I am here but unbound

unbridled
untamed
unfazed
unamazed

disenchanted

this.. your script
holds no interest for me

Let's Talk

Suspecting what one won't know

fearing what the other can’t;

whose voice do they choose

in the dark crevices of their minds?

Experience does not prophecy make,

nor does willful blindness,

heads buried blankets, guarantee resolution

Heads buried in the sand,

mouths muted and bound,

hearts not necessarily wounded

as the carousel turns

turning

driven by anxiety or someone's truth untold

Misunderstanding the understanding or

understanding the misunderstanding

bodies vibrates and twist

pulse and turn

mechanical and discordant;

the unknown remaining a matter of debated certainty

while cowardice prevents the actors from saying

“STOP

...can we talk”?

Assumptions

It's easy to say
"enough"...
when one has more.

Mourning

Time's companion
the Wounded Heart;
with its love,
patience;
its weakness,
hope;
its albatross,
the Unknowable.

All ever present, in the invisible unforgiving tide;
there to co-exist,
to mend or fester,
strain and gnash or
forebear in submissive repose
to envision the light or
fear suggestive shadows
for eternity;
lost hand in hand
with the constant,
interminable,
Time.

Being...

Once... I was

But now I am

Worth Less Hindsight

Hold.. 

if you can... 

that second ...

you realize

it...is...too...late

where on the other side of 

this (that) instant, 

this (that) discovery

a useless epiphany

the unassailable understanding 

that this is (was) the end game...

Try to savor that broken fork... 

between jump and landing

between thought and action

digit and trigger

spark and tongue...
life and last exhalations ...

beyond the 11th hour

the descent begun

from twinkling to Nova

the last thrashing second...

the last thoughtless decision...

the last careless act...

where one final callously indifferent annoyance...

led to now... 

When you dare to whimper and demand of Karma 

"No but Wait!", 

Will the universe permit time for one last lesson

and allow you to Hold that...

that .... eternity

and ask yourself...

Were the seconds wasted
in judgement...
in hate and petty 'isms... 

worth it? 

Another Shiny Red Ball

Tongue tied
by semantics
history and intentions

It is hard to be a bridge
when both sides are burning...