Storm.

I sit and watch the tumble weed

Stampeding patiently across the street

The town used to be full

Children playing hide n seek

Cars inching across the tarmac

Sellers flaunting wares

Couples walking in pairs

Flowers and leaves dancing in the breeze to unheard music

But that was then

And this is now

Then the storm happened

It battered the town and shook the houses

Broke windows and fell trees

And there I was rushing home

Trying to beat the impending doom

Running and falling

Trying to reach home

And the storm raced before me

Battered and shook

Howling and stomping

And shattered our windows

The townspeople fled

All the same night

While I begged them to stay

The little child down the street was last

Wiping tears and dust

The thunder laughed

The lightning took a picture

All said, all done

Beside the house I sit

Watching for the storm

Praying you come back.

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The fine print

Funerals aren’t for the dead

They’re for the living to gather and break bread

To shed tears in solemn silence

While scheming relatives mark available property

Birthdays arent for the babies,

They’re for the friends to compare

Contrast and take notes

While the baby contemplates

The yearly reminder of their approaching death.

Weddings aren’t for the bride and groom

They’re for family and friends

Caught up in the minutiae

Sizing up the backgrounds of the other

While searching for probable mates

And an excuse to drink and ogle the bride

One last time.

Graduations arent for students

They’re for parents

Celebrating their validation at having successfully raised a human being

All the while struggling to make them not die

Showing off their offspring as successful

In a tandem bid to jealous-ify their friends and relatives

Elections arent for the voters

Theyre for politicians

Clawing for power and office

A peekaboo game

Here for campaigns

Gone for 5 years

Till next time.

I Spooned Creativity

I embraced the warmth of creativity 
Suckled it

Tasted its breast

Let its invigorating milk of expression flow into me

I cuddled in the warmth of its arms

Let it spoon me

Engulf my mind with thoughts unknown

Stared into its dazzling eyes

Sipped the sweet nectar

That oh so sweet nectar of its freedom
I made love to its sensuality

Let it caress my mind, oh yes, creativity 

The art of of its beauty 

And the beauty of its art

Intermingling

Making beast of two backs within me

Life is clear as should be

I was once blind

The cobwebs in my eyes are cleared

Now I see

With expressions

I birthed impressions

Into this world bring contemplations 

Believe me

I let it ejaculate

And the words leapt to the page

The run so freely

Just so you can understand this

I beseech thee’s’

I’m but a sword sheathed in Orion’s belt

Straight to the Pleiades of your mind I’m loosed

Run and and majestically battle

Like centaurs before me

Avoid oh Scorpio’s sting

Dance alongside Capricorn’s being

And by Pisces drink
I birthed creativity’s child

Swathed her in flowing robes golden

Drenched her in words flowing

Quenched her in milk, bold and 

Fed her from the springs of observing

Pitter patter, pitter patter

Its the officers,  hurry, scatter! 

Pitter patter, pitter patter, 

You can be an artist, it doesn’t matter, 

But so they said as I write quietly by

Plato watching the moon, 

Galileo seeing the sun he swoons,

Bend ideas and free minds

In a world of bondage and mental slavery

Take here creativity, be her wife

Show us what you see

Treat us, be kind.