Troubleshooting

Standard

After a few quick scans

I’ve found it in myself

to put together a damage estimation,

And hold in my hands,

Some summons, subpoenas and citations.

*Ahem*

Cracked two teeth on prickly pear pits,

From breakfast,

Scuffed-up my running shoes which didn’t fit,

3 toes stubbed,

Forearms covered in thorns,

From when I tripped into the shrubs.

Bumps on my crown,

From fallen acorns,

During the post workout cool-down.

And bruised shins,

I think I just woke up with.

Would plead no contest,

But won’t bother showing up to my court date.

I am,

Henceforth,

Placing myself on house arrest,

As my own harshest critic,

Judge, jury and executioner.

Verbena

Standard

Soothing clover,

Smoothing over,

Lingering soreness.

Warm tea,

Is all your senses

take in.

You can’t find it in you to panic,

About the day,

Anxieties melt away,

Nothing left to say,

Just watching the morning.

Sometimes meditation 

Is part of your routine–

Sometimes you do it 

as soon as you 

awaken.

Sometimes you do it,

In the middle

Of an intense run.

Sometimes you do it

while you eat

your morning oatmeal.

Just being there

For right now

Is all the relief

you need.

Cult-Classics

Standard

Night falls,

As Ana slides open the screen-door,

And snuck into her house with her friends,

While her parents 

sleep peacefully,

Unaware of tonight’s meeting.

The following entered single file,

Approached the shelf,

gathered around,

And pored over

the needed materials.

Meticulously,

They made their selections,

Offerings that each member agreed to.

Each had their own predilections

Toward eighties ultra violence,

Black comedy,

Or pre-recorded VHS tapes,

Of since-cancelled television,

With commercial breaks,

Intact.

“Cut the lights,”

The time has come

for another sleepless night,

Sitting entranced.

Volume at near-silence,

Doors tightly shut,

Muffling cheers for the anti-hero,

Laughter and schadenfreude,

Shuffling seats,

To avoid

potential tut-tuts

Of disgruntled authority.

Tulip Mania

Standard

You’ve heard of that old saying, right?

“One man’s trash,

Is another man’s,

Economic crash,”

You know?

The humble tulip,

A discovery from the new world,

Became a Dutch sensation,

Overnight.

With this bulb-market,

Came speculation,

Large amounts of liquidity,

And rising valuation,

That sowed a coming disaster.

As quickly as it came,

POP! went the bubble,

Consumers, cultivators,

Merchants, kings and peasants,

All came tumbling down.

Spanish Moss

Image

I’m an acrobat,

Amongst the arches,

Along your branches.

I’m airborne,

It just looks like I’m slipping through,

But trust me,

I will stay with you,

Sway with you,

If you don’t mind it.

Sorry about the bugs,

They seem to like me,

I’m a little scraggly,

Looking a bit worn.

I’ll keep you warm,

But not smothered,

You scratch my back,

I’ll keep yours covered.

Player Piano

Standard

A musician never acts alone,

Unless, of course,

they happen to be a drone.

Pay no attention,

To the fact that,

There is no one in front of the curtain.

Études are meant to showcase one’s skill,

But with the amputation,

Of middlemen,

There is no risk,

No drama,

In such a piece.

Chopin’s Opus 25 Number 11,

“Winter Wind”

Played with ruthless calculation,

Feels like little more,

Than a brisk,

Cakewalk.

Corrosion

Standard

Hello old limestone sculpture,

Of an ancient, armored,

Sword-toting,

Female soldier-

Meet acid rain.

Your chiseled face,

Buffed away,

Until the once completed visage,

Looks like modeling clay.

Slowly, but surely, we return to square-1,

That marvelous, marble base,

Laid bare,

Then swiss-cheesed,

By sizzle drizzle.

Behold the disappearing monument,

Matter cannot be created,

Nor destroyed,

But that’s neither here nor there,

Until we put real effort toward conservation,

Of the curated.