April 2019

Letters from the Depths of Solitude. Of Red Flags

Poetry Drafts / / By

weirdmirrors:

insecurity is a red flag, loving you too hard is a red flag, sharing with you the music of their childhood is a red flag, calling too often is a red flag, calling too rarely is a red flag, answering too fast is a red flag, not answering is a red flag, showering you with affection—you guessed it—is a red flag (so-called love bombing), not giving you attention is a red flag, living one’s life is a red flag, having no life of one’s own is another, having a puppy while you like cats is a red flag, glowing after going out is a red flag—big times—smoking

after sex is a red flag, telling you “it’s a red flag” is definitely a red flag for me, eating too many vegetables is a red flag, selecting earrings for too long is a red flag, listing red flags is the reddest of them all

#ilikeredflags

A shoe box on the 428

Poetry Drafts / / By

I keep wishing you would drive me to where I need to be. A shoe box on the 428, just off the junction near that tall tree. The box not fit for purpose; yet I long for the cover it gives. I am not looking for a lover, just love; beneath a tree

i strum as i walk

Poetry Drafts / / By

I am worried the thirteen reasons might be enough / that the free lunch will never come / that the reflection I see is cracked; the mirror never broke in fact / my keys no longer fitting the locks / I strum as I walk / the path shaded and I never wonder why

why?

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

My life was going well,
Plodding along as you would say,
Then thoughts of greener grass;
of love across borders flourished,
I fell foul of greed and the lack of deed,
restarting a life among aliens,
there; I said it.

My life now; much to desire,
I kept going; developing software,
until one day I did so see,
my erring ways; a life of grief,
and thus I planned the change to be,
no longer spending days dreaming,
I chose the path of childhood smilings,
the writing; from mind worlds creating,
aiming if just in thought; to recreate the
feelings felt as pencil touched paper.

I now do study the ways of man,
the humanities of time and arts present,
The beginnings all well did pass,
lost; but challenging the mind’s desire,
Now; I doubt the choice was wise,
as struggle follow struggle,
essays piling up beside me,
my impatience showing,
thus I humbly wonder:

why? was it worth it?

are there canals in birmingham alabama

Poetry Drafts / / By

Are there canals in Birmingham, Alabama
I wondered as I recalled the Black Country
and our walks along the moorings,

We are no more; sadly
or am I
really
hand on heart
in any way regretting
the parting,

My worries today are more of me;
on the unexpected shadows following
the company of one and their knives
chipping; chipping; chipping away
at the timeline measuring

my life

make me God

Random Unsorted Drafts / / By

I have three monitors; in the physical sense,
with nine spaces of virtual goodness,
I have two eyes; but only one brain,
is that why I struggle,
is that why I demand,
upgrade; upgrade; upgrade me now,
make me better,
make me good,
make me not suffer,
make me God
 

C90

Poetry Drafts / / By

Music must have a powerful impact on a child, I suggest as I sing along to every word I hear. Dire Straits played in the car; a travelling family of one among four. Back then on cassettes; C90, with automation and jamming tapes. I remember every word sung; none of the words spoken, between the seats of an orange car of German make. I still recall the silence; the moment the music ended.

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