It is that time of year when urges bubble,
The time of year I urge to clean.
The urge to clean and tidy-up around me,
That world I left to rot - unattended bleed.I find the empty envelopes in hiding,
The empty poems upon them writ.
Not correspondence yet admitted,
My secrets still kept - abled.It is that time of year when urges bubble,
When basic nature rules the mind.
It is that time of year when urges bubble,
Unbottled pops and oops alike
As I kiss the mountains ablaze,
My lips turn blue.
As I embrace the fiery rage,
My senses go cold.
I pray to no-one as no-one listens,
I whisper the words of wisdom to the witless.
As I kiss the mountains ablaze,
I find my spirit unheeding
Three Hundred and Eighty Million years ago
A tree slowly grew
The first erection of planet Earth
Sucking carbon dioxide out of the air
& here we stand
Not knowing which way to turn
Not knowing which way is up
With hope slowly fading
& prayers spoken as if
we were not to blame
for the failings
right there, in front of us
Calling out into the void
Calling sestra
Do you read this
Do you see my writing
As truthDot - Dorothy - Mother
Let us reminisce
or die -
alone
One thousand lifetimes
Captured in words of others
In writing
Of life
Of moments
Now almost extinctBricks crumbling into dust
The rocks once solid
Now quicksand
Beneath meThe sinking
The sinking
The sinking feelingNo feeling
No joy
No sorrow
No moreThe Master calls me
& I consider
โฆ
Complying
I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one that speaks with prior knowledge
the one that speaks in the tounge of others
the one whose children far outnumber
the ones that passed the womb as measured
as regular children are decendants of the crown
as the blessed children of the one before us
I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one in gray tones and grey matter
the one of perm of purchased styling fathomed
whose children far away are scattered &
one with offspring and
another without
yet far apart
yet apart
yet far
yet &
yet
not
at
a
.
FIVE THOUSAND emails
An inbox overflowing, ignored for a century and counting
Now a mere memory, forgotten & purged this nightThese
Those
NO: I SAY
I CARE NOT
I ADMITand withdraw
again from the world
you know; a world in which I do not belong;
semi-colon / semi-
and
// unloved
Sometimes I disappear,
like at a bat in daylight approaching,
sometimes I come back,
Looking and finding anew the old
The same;;; a comforting blanket
I wrap around me as I try
once again to remain
The same; the sane
the one
I pretend to be
Each day
Each and every wayI can
