Cracked lips and dry mouth
Eyes almost swollen shut
Head pulsating agony
With every beat of my heart
The room spins, the floor moves
Drifting in and out
Of sweet unconsciousness
The carpet is littered
A beach of washed up jewels
The couch an island
A world of horrific transgressions
Channel surfing through my brain
I stopper another
This world…
Could be…
Should be…
So much better.
Middle school
She was the new kid
I was alone in a crowd
She started mid year
I should’ve known everyone
She was used to moving
I went places in my head
Her golden hair made her stand out
My unkempt curly hair did the same
She felt everything was temporary
I was afraid I would always be that way
She was selective on who she befriended
I gave my lunchtime chocolate milk to anyone
She asked me to push her on the swing
I felt the joy and rush she experienced
She set a date for every recess
I now looked forward
She chose me
I let her in
Then one day
She was gone
I pushed an empty swing
Decades later
I don’t long to reunite
I just hope
That she found
Someone
Who loves to swing her
It’s not when he gets a new toy
It’s not when he gets ice cream
Not at the park surrounded by kids
Not when his favorite movie plays
It’s when we’re just hanging out
Going for a walk
Playing on the floor
Together
He says, “I’m very happy.”
And my heart soars
The silt of spiritual indignation
Seeps into the pores, leaving a film
The eye of providence is a delta
Where Styx meets the ocean of sorrow
The buttered skin of a quetzal
About to be roasted on a spit
Trading flight feathers for currency
A Faustian bargain for the root of all evil
12 feathers for this phone and 30 for that TV
Dressing in leather to hide the pluck holes
And to remember that there are worse bargains
Frying pan or fire, no one dies in their sleep
The aspirant clocks out at the mine’s mouth
Pretending with sooty face and black lung
That the diamond called the American Dream
Is within gnarled and arthritic hands
Go home to hearth and family
Who dream of feathered boas and cruises
Climb into the steamy shower
Pine needle brush and loam exfoliant
The handshake still felt
The sky a constant reminder
Ink and paper or keys and screen
Remember what it was once like
To fly
Okay…my first post of this type! If you want to share a link to either your latest or greatest post, please leave a link in the comments. If you want to leave a blurb about the post, please do.
My most liked post was about the first hug my son gave me: https://erichmichaels.wordpress.com/2015/04/22/a-hug/
Let’s show some love for our fellow explorers of the human condition!
The imprints of little feet in sand
Around a bucket built sandcastle
Snow-covered trees, snowflakes on your face
You stand and look at your first snow angel
Walking out into the field at dusk and
Experiencing firefly magic the first time
Giddy anxiousness keeping you awake
Wondering what Santa was bringing you
The perfect rock, the perfect throw
It skips across the water…finally
Knowing with the utmost certainty
That you were meant to be a firefighter
That tv show you watched with grandma
As a child, her laughter was the best sound
The cool night breeze off of the bay and
The best fireworks you’d ever seen
Sneaking around the grownups stealthily
Slurping the foam off their drinks until dizzy
A sunburn, the pain, the sleepless nights
The skin sloughing off in strips
Jr. High warm-belly-feeling from friends
Relaying info that your crush likes you too
That first self-induced, full-body-orgasm
Lightening in your veins…did I break it?
Bagged groceries all week with your best smile
The owner hands you your first check
Approaching high school graduation
The feeling that the world was yours
Your hands grip the steering wheel
You drive off the lot in your brand new car
You walk up to the counter, fingers touch glass
You ask where the engagement rings are
Filling out paperwork at HR
Five percent you put into a 401K…for the future
You keep the indicator covered by your hand
So you both can see if it’s positive together
The Rent-A-Center salesperson
Greets you with a smile and calls you Sir/Ma’am
Sitting across the desk, little arrow stickers
You initial for the 100th time…homeowner
You place the beer on the counter
They take your money and don’t ID you
You hear a couple punk kids laughing
Your muffin-top the punchline, you’re Teflon
You let a bright-faced salesperson in
You sign up for supplemental life insurance
You order a do-it-yourself kit
Catalog everything and make a will
A twenty-something smiles at you at the store
They move their cart and let you cut in line
Your manager gives you a little box
Inside is a pin commemorating your retirement
The family reunion you have the place of honor
As the oldest in your family
All your loved ones eagerly visit you
As you lie in a hospital bed
You feel an immense amount of weight lifted off
Then nothingness
In the distance you see a light
A doctor pulls you out and cleans you up
The imprints of little feet in sand
Around a bucket built sandcastle…
I’m sorry, do I know you?
No…not, do I know YOU?
But, do I KNOW you?
I know that you don’t know me
That’s right, you don’t KNOW me
Often I feel I don’t even KNOW me
Introverts scream separately in unison
Don’t ask me about the weather!
Ask me about my dreams and aspirations!
The, “How about them Yankees?”
Is the TAP TAP on the microphone
Is this thing on?
We WANT true, meaningful connections
We NEED to see aura, spirit, and heart
We HAVE no real idea what we are asking for
The devil you know or you THINK you know
Minnesota Multiphasic Personality Inventory
You want me to fix me?
Here’s a diver’s helmet
Some glow sticks
Spray lidocaine
Aloe Vera
And a copy of the Rite of Exorcism
They say it’s going to rain…
In an earlier post, Closer to Home, Father I Roam, I talked about the loss of my father. I talked about our relationship, about his being supportive of my writing and how his passing affected me.
I talked about how I am embarking on an inward journey, in attempts to better understand him, creating some of the same neural connections…through reading the same books he had read. He left a map of his adventures–his Nook reader and a library of titles.
I picked The Shannara Trilogy and was not disappointed. I’ll be the first to admit that I moved through the first two books slowly. It was as if I was subconsciously coming up with excuses to not buckle in and read, at least not nearly as often as I had in the past. However, I did really enjoy them, as they are definitely in a genre that I love. Now I’m not going to do anything close to an in depth book review, but simply say how the journey went and what I took away from it.
I’m currently about 100 pages away from finishing the third book. I take it with me to work and inevitably I end up going down an internet-search-wormhole and make no use of my breaks, whatsoever. Irritated with myself I’ll return to work, vowing to read the next time. Some part of me doesn’t want the story to end, just like I wish my father’s story was still going on, I guess.
My takeaway, at this point, is simply my seeing a parallel between my father and the Druid Allanon. He wasn’t really there at the beginning and until later in life he was kind of a mysterious figure that moved in and out of my life. Most importantly, he gave me my love for reading, which blossomed into writing and is the most powerful magic I know.
I will try to push through the last 100 pages and then see what’s next. I hope to report back on this pilgrimage. I miss him sorely, but these breadcrumbs I’m following will not only bring about a deeper understanding, but will also take time…putting me closer to him in a more final way.
To me, sharing a book with someone is probably one of the most intimate things you can do. It was, for a time, a life you lived and now, through your actions, they share that life. Share your lives with those you care about, my friends.
Yesterday
I sat on your bench
I tried
To feel your resonance
I didn’t know you
I saw you on my walks
Apparently no town
Is too small
For homelessness
You’d disappear
During the day
Leaving behind your
Belongings
A ratty backpack and
Your tattered sleeping bag
Returning in the dark
To lay your head down
To sleep
The article said
Your heart gave up
The fight
Enjoy your rest
As I lie in bed
Hating myself
For never even
Saying
Hello
Get in line
Toe the line
Walk the line
Fall in line
Take a hard line
Draw a line in the sand
Color inside the lines
Someone has fed you a line
So I’m gonna drop you a line
It’s time to be out of line
Time to cross the line
That’s right…I’m laying it all on the line
Take the line of MOST resistance
We are on the frontline
You may be next in line
And that’s the bottom line
We are the creatives, so color outside the lines
Before you…flatline
erichmichaels 