rapidly firing neurons wage war

against my cerebral cortex

transforming my brain into a

battleground of synaptic explosions.

Disjointed thoughts tangentially traipse

through the trenches of a fractured mind-

the rhythm of the ceiling fan matches the

throbbing and humming inside my skull

and ideas flutter and flit through my mind

like a carefree band of shadows playing tag.

An idea turns into an itch, then into a flame

that burns at my sanity until I give in to the

thoughts that will not be silent until they are

satiated and tucked in with paper and ink-

witching hour poetry pours out from the

crevasses of the mind until the burning thoughts

are satisfied that they have been properly

tended to, and at long last, may permit me rest.

Raindrops splatter on my bare feet.

The smell of rosemary and lightning

Waft through the water-logged air.

The curious cat left on the inside

Presses her face to the screen door.

Raindrops fall noisily to the earth,

Billowing thunder rolls in waves.

The steady flow of rain lessens

To an intermittent drip, drip, drip.

Robins appear, hop on the lawn,

Hunt for worms in the calm aftermath.

Mockingbirds dive and glide among fields of wildflowers.

Dogs mournfully harmonize with the tune of a distant train.

The clear, blue sky fades to orange and violet as the sun lowers.

Insects buzz and chirp, fireflies dance as darkness descends.

A golden moon rises and owls stir as the day draws to an end.

If you’re coming with me,

You need nerves of steel.

Dancing in the minefields.

I’ve been a walking heartache;

I’ve made a mess of me.

The beer I had for breakfast wasn’t bad,

So I had one more for dessert.

Bleed just to know you’re alive.

Run away, run away from the pain.

Bad angel, get off of my shoulder.

What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.

Don’t let me get me.

I’ve got all I need,

Jesus and gravity.

Learn to be still.

Maybe this year
I can manage to change
The plot and redeem my character
From primary villain to victorious hero.

Poetry Picnic Week 20

Adults are playing
The Wii with great care,
Keeping it quiet,
The kids not to scare.

The tree is all lit,
The presents await.
The turkey is thawing,
Sweating its fate.

Fellowship thrives with
Teasing and laughter.
Hot air rises from floor
To high rafters.

Just one more day
Until presents are opened.
Thirty-six hours
‘Til chaos descends.

Family Christmas
Is frenetic and shrill.
Once a year is plenty,
We all get our fill.

of voices, noises, carols

Melds to symphony

Tagged: Christmas, family, haiku, seasons ]]> http://blueplatypus.wordpress.com/2011/12/21/family-christmas/feed/ 8 blueplatypus a-charlie-brown-christmas http://blueplatypus.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/numb/ http://blueplatypus.wordpress.com/2011/11/30/numb/#comments Thu, 01 Dec 2011 03:16:32 +0000 blueplatypus http://blueplatypus.wordpress.com/?p=441 ]]> Anesthetized,
Apathetic,
Callous,
Comatose
Dazed,
Detached
Frozen,
Indifferent,
Listless,
Paralyzed,
Remote,
Unfeeling.

Roget’s has dozens of words
To describe my state of being.
Numbness is protective steel,
Keeping myself safe from the
Sharpness of amplified feelings.

Numbness is a blanket of apathy
That protects my soft underbelly
From flaming darts that fly at me.

Natural or by man contrived,
A deadness of heart and soul,
Keeps me trudging in this life.

Have been barefoot ones.

Walking down the aisle,

Wading through the creek.

Standing on holy ground,

Wriggling toes in fresh mud.

Laughing, playing in the rain,

Treading in familiar homes.

Climbing, walking, or wading-

I have a better grasp on life

With bare feet.