Glassed Feet

Glassed Feet

Your strong, you stand up, now the shards

digress from your knees, to your  feet, to your hands,

and again to your knees, your are eyes are a lantern,

 a flash-light and we're stepping, left, right and simply repeating the process.

You'd think it hard to sleep or live on a ground of glass 

and yet we still persist.  like climbing 

a ladder with no rungs, your feet keep stepping 

in anticipation of a rung to boost yourself, to 

make it the top of the ladder, you realize theres nothing there

but you still keep trying to step up.

Like an assembly line, the parts just keep being assembled

cchlunk, cclunk, cclunk.

Like cars on a highway, going east and west, 

all having somewhere to be, but simply stick to their schedule, nothing more.

Like turning on a broken light to brighten the room.

nchkt ,nchkt, nchkt.

You know it won't turn on but you keep thinking it'll magically replace itself.
like waking up in the morning, you wake up knowing 
you have to go back to sleep. 
You try to walk in the dark, glass covered  room,
unmercifully, you begin to wonder, and 
then you get side-tracked by the shards in your feet.        

Love Your Smile (Free Write Poem)

  Love Your Smile

             I dread the day that you lay your voice you down, when that person says silence and you duct tape your mouth. You say you’re doing just fine but your voice is in trajectory of an oncoming train;

             I dread the day, when you say I'm not good enough, when that persons talks down to you and you sow the seed, of what they didn't really commend and you fall short of the foot hole;
             I dread the day you lose that shimmer in your eye, when that sparkle  fades like that star you see in the sky implode, and is only glanced at through a spotty memory;                        I dread the day, you say this world has defeated me, when that spring in your step is succumbed like the flattening of a tire;

            I dread the day, the inflection in your voice fades like words off the surface of a bone-cold valley, when that emotion that benign quality drains, and your face, your eyes illustrate your past, present and future;

            I dread the day, that I wake up and acknowledge that the pillow I clung to for hope and peace is there lying on the floor squandered by time;

            I dread the day when that smile that lush, beautiful facial depiction dims like the fire on the but of the cigarette, smothered under the dark, stank sole of leather; that one moments neglect, that million dollar display shines and glimmers for its last standing ovation;
            I dread the day when time passes.

Skin Deep (Art Of)

 Skin Deep

Think, step, look left right and then right again and then back to the left.

Now close your eyes and breath,

inhale what you just saw,

the firm concrete your legs standing so  jauntily on.

Now blink your eyes and hold them shut,

look left and then right, chances are you didn’t

see anything because your eyelids were shut, shocking, huh?

But who is to say we are not to see when our eyes our closed.

Who ever said that we are not free.

I accept this binding called reality,

does that make me a slave, is there a collar

on my neck, a mark, a number?

Skin, my skin that's the mark,

but its me, I'm skin

Consistently refurbished to appear clean

and perfect, almost perfect.

My mind is me, no.

I am my mind, right?

Now the question is not what is, but who is?

Who is going to step out of reality,

No no step out of the facade.