— Asphalt

Silence
Dressed in
A garb
of gold.
She sits
On the
Street wanting
To be heard
Over the
Sounds of
Jackhammers
Turning asphalt
To dust and
Drivers venting
Rage through their
Car horns.
Silence lays
On the
Sidewalk,
Shattered.

Your soul should glow
With the brilliance of the sun
And it should never fade
Just to please someone
Your soul should be free
Like a bird in the sky
And should never be caged
Or else it cannot fly
Your soul should be confident
And always smiling wide
Because it knows you are beautiful
Deep down on the inside
Your soul is different
Just like you
So follow your heart
And let it shine true

Eyes filled with too many words
Heavy, they drop down to escape
Hamlet’s world
“To be or not to be”
Is not the question
When lost in the twilight zone
Along with yesterday’s physics’ lesson
And today’s geometry homework
Not to mention the constant
“Brain Teasers” called test
Who cares about the year
Artemesia What’s-her-name was born?
Knowing too much just makes
The nuisance smart-ass and
Eating too quickly without knowing
Causes the stomachache.

The tears start flowing
Out of the blue
Not knowing why,
Yet not able to stop them
Feelings of loneliness, hopelessness, indecision, and rage
All descending at once
The pressures and stress
of school, work, home and extra-curricular
Attacking always.
“it shall pass”
Has become the common phrase
Of all those outside “the cube”
Don’t they remember?
The hopelessness that eats away
At our very soul, day in, day out
We’ve reached the breaking point
Taking wrong paths
And falling hard
There’s no where else to go
it’s up or down
Make a choice
Either way
you create
Your own private hell.

Whirling down the old back porch
the bare foot slap
slap on shy and whispering splinters.
Gray as frozen ocean this
dancing day
toenails cause the creak
whining planks for my pirouettes.
My prancing feet reel the round
round the world
tickling wood
stone
leaf
and sand until the stop of
cold.
Giggling splinter
rolling rock
mock my prancing feet
and send them flying back to
stern reality.
Those ridiculous dancing feet.

She was a grateful bride,
an orphaned farm girl
plucked from Alabama red root
to the flat glistening white dream
of a doctor’s wife.
She brought him a laugh
as boundless as the Southern sky
and a weekly menu with pot roast
on Sundays and three children
tiny but bright as July fireflies.

But he caught them, caught
three fireflies and their mother,
sharpened his belt on them
until she was a sore,
and then a scab,
and then a callous.
A callous who was not
too afraid
to take her fireflies to
somewhere in Nevada and send his
red root diamond to him
in an envelope for forty cents of
well-spent postage.

As the wind glides over,
The voluptuous wings,
It makes the eagle feel free.
The feeling our soldiers have,
Right before they hit the line.
War is a necessity,
We need it to survive
The security and safety of our nation is in danger.
Our loved ones are far away,
Fighting for their lives.
Some of them intelligence,
Some of them infantry
The eagle fight for its life,
And hits the line to look for food.
He must shoot to survive,
And hid on the inside.