Fission

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Chack

Goes the cue ball,

as it breaks

the tenuous structure

at the start of the game.

We collected these balls,

and set them here

for specifically this purpose.

The purposive percussion,

can have unforeseen side effects,

such as scratches,

shouting matches

or, at worst,

the 8-ball finds a way

to lose you the whole affair.

But with precision and care,

the collisions

and chain reactions you hope for,

carry you through.

A game of pool revitalizes the night.

It brings joy and energy,

that escalates,

as each ball finds its way to a pocket,

out of sight

but not out of mind.

All from the predictable instability

at its outset.

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Sycamore

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Winds of change,

carry me away,

I will spiral

as I ride the currents,

to still waters,

to green pastures.

The gale will wail,

but I will not falter,

it’s fury will take me

somewhere new,

I have faith.

I will put down roots,

I will stand as tall as I can,

from midsummer,

through first frost

but, here, I cannot stay.

Winds of change,

I will follow your lead,

I fear no obstacle,

you have carried me above them.

Though you have set me down,

I will not rest,

The sun sets in the West,

I will face East,

and take in the morning light,

no matter the hand I’m dealt.

Winds of change,

carry me away,

I wish to see the world,

carry me away.

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Protect and Survive

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Everyone hears the wail

of Siren calls,

fewer hear the Jericho Trumpets.

The lucky ones

see a flash of brilliant light,

thunder shakes the nation

announcing War and Death.

The Four Horsemen have arrived

all at once.

We never thought we’d see this day

destruction is assured,

the radio tells us,

there is still hope for salvation.

3 knocks,

signal coming Pestilence.

Put out the fires,

lock your doors

and hunker down

in the basement.

Bags of sand stacked high,

keep out nuclear dust.

Pots and pans,

tins of meat,

cans of beans,

may outlast us.

We await the all clear,

as Famine patrols.

We thought the war would never heat up,

but all it did was boil over,

and we were caught in the crossfire,

someday we’ll pick up the pieces.

Pianissimo

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A light touch,

can really pluck

the heart strings.

My heart sings,

at the opportunity,

to practice with you.

But I, at times, am Icarus

too ambitious-

too inconsistent

with the placement of my fingers.

But vigorous no doubt,

My hope is that practice makes me perfect,

I can fine-tune this

day by day,

I just hope the neightbors

have nothing to say.

As they have their privacy,

so do we,

we’ll keep our sour notes

and symphonies,

all to ourselves.

Night Owl

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Your wildest dreams

are sweet relief,

a cease to endless wandering,

rest for your weary mind.

And rest you try to do

but release eludes.

Your alarm clock shows

the lapsing night,

instinct tells you

there’s more to do

but even the sun rests now

and today, for you,

is not yet through.

The moon watches,

Tantalus of the night,

sharing your affliction,

stillness surrounds

but it never partakes.

It chases the sun,

shape-shifting,

with a glint always in its eye,

but never does the moon

bask in the light.

Relief,

you hope,

is soon to come,

you lay your head

on your pillow

and fade away

for a moment,

“Good morning New Jersey!

Today’s forecast is 72 degrees,

sunny with low humidity.”

If only the new day,

could wait

until tomorrow.

Life’s Lemons

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Half-empty,

or half-full,

just remember to drink deeply

and you will feel refreshed

in either case.

Every drop in the bucket,

contributed

to its current state.

A smattering of shattered glass

can lead to

angry wails,

or end with

a beautiful mosaic.

Sit down and do your scales,

I guarantee you

with dedication

you will be able to play more

than “hot-cross buns”

and “Happy Birthday.”

Today is worth it,

not perfect,

because the best way

to find a beautiful view,

is to keep climbing.

When life hands you lemons,

fix yourself a drink,

and add some zest

to everything you do.

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A Limited-Time Offer

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Black and white montages

of your every day

average Joe

miserably failing

at mundane tasks.

Cut to open,

blinding white,

well-lit

studio space-

a prophet enters

to offer liberation.

His promises are grand,

his obligations are reasonable,

he tells you

salvation is yours for the taking;

he shows you

the sacred code

to speak with one of his disciples.

They beckon you

to pay your indulgences,

and enter the promised land

of Convenience.

Judgement day is upon us,

the prophet sweetens the deal,

if you are among the first 200

to accept him,

he will give unto you

a sacred chalice

that is impossible to spill

because of its NASA-inspired design,

but the clock is ticking.

You dial the phone,

but the line is busy.

You cannot live a life

of fear and ignorance

anymore.

When the words of the prophet are with you,

who stands against you?

Once more you dial,

and it rings for 3 minutes,

limbo.

Evil will not prevail today,

you tell yourself,

but you’re not so sure.

You walk in the shadow

of the valley of death,

into the kitchen,

where the reception is better.

One ring begets two,

which begets three

and on the fourth,

Hallelujah!

You have been welcomed

to the pearly gates of Convenience,

where every widget

is yours to order,

for 5 easy payments

of $19.99.

The angel on the other side

Is pleased to inform you,

that you are the 156th caller,

you have earned a sacred chalice

of your own,

what a steal!