These are old photos I created around Valentine’s Day. At the time, the first photo reminded me of the sixties or eighties. (I’m still not sure which.) I’ve never been able to recreate the hairstyle, but I’m glad I captured it! I hope you had a fantastic Valentine’s Day full of whatever makes you happy!
Love in June
Why does attraction bear shame
when authenticity should be bliss
beyond imagination?
What of love and a kiss?
A photo makes me worry and wonder
am I doing right by Him?
If my mind were clouded in filth, what more should I discover
as I clamber inward?
Skin-crawling and heavy-minded
I lay awake in twilight, tortured by what could be.
Is there a point in it
or will it all come crashing?
Is there pride to be found in the monochrome,
saturated only by the few with conviction?
Could there be more besides loathing?
It has a grasp on me.
So much of the art put out into the world is about art. But what can it tell us?
Rehashed Rage
I woke up angry
to the blaring of a machine
in a world I didn’t ask to be thrown into.
I’ll go to work angry
at my boss
at that thing I said five weeks ago that nobody remembers but
I sit there
at my desk
listening in on whispers I don’t care about and
Still, I am angry
driving home
away from irritations to more irritations.
I didn’t do my laundry
so I walk over filthy clothes
hit my filthy couch and stew in it
Until it’s time to go to bed.
I yank a t-shirt from the floor,
scrape my teeth,
flick the lights,
and fall asleep, angry.
A’s, B’s, C’s, and D’s
Planted on a peculiar carpet
you examine the lanes
sectioned off with yellow stripes
and white lines
Patches of green grass
encircle the buildings,
each with their own symbol
and saturated design
Behind you is a dull
knock
Against your back
lay the bulk of your once proud tower
A’s and B’s
C’s and D’s
strewn about the carpet
By your side
is a pigtailed girl
with pronounced teeth
and corduroy pants
She did this.
Swept up
you shriek and scream
a gut-wrenching howl
over the tower lost
and dignity torn
Tears flow down
with a scowl of bright fury.
Outstretched,
your hands wave
pleading for attention,
a witness to this injustice,
this crime of heinous intent.
You cry out for the giant
looming over the threshold
to bring about your uprising
and snatch her and her pigtails
in a fit of glory
With a turn of the head
thunderous booms
and scooping arms
The giants lifts you,
meeting the air
This is not what is just.
You shriek once more
flailing limbs to break free
from this traitorous captor
Your eyes meet the lettered blocks
and the hands
rearranging them
before you are carried away
For an hour-long slumber.
Despite what it looks like, I enjoyed taking these!
