Answers

Retracted skies to smoking guns,

Flames igniting upon condition,

Blossoming from a speck to a splotch

A build ups been developed, raising this moment to that designated as art,

Then

Approximately in the time it takes a drop of blood to overtake a tub or a pool,

I found myself relegated in duty, delegated by command,

Charged with the education of those who could not comprehend,

To provide resolution through careful deliberation,

 Solving problems for all of them when the opportunity arose,

Yet, when that quotient did appear

The open mouths looked for guidance, and I lost every sense of relation,

My mind spun in countless directions, in that fleeting second

All I could think, all I was able to mutter,

Like a child falling for the first time from a bicycle he loved so,

 Or a teenager cast aside, for the company of another,

A blank slate stared at me in the mirror, producing but a solitary string of words,

Words which did not serve, did not clear or resolve,

Instead of answers, questions rose.

A Mothers' Tear

Inhale.  Orange zest and lemon curls, bouquets sculpt with wild flowers

Geometric ruffling in decorative lace

Devoured by the flavor amidst scripted parsimony,

That leave some so uninspired, yet

As a child I would attend the gala every year,

Chicken cordon bleu, cheese pouring out

Into puddles, infringing upon the green beans,

Baskets filled with fresh baked bread,

A quick slice, to which butter promptly melts

A taste that lemon splashed sparkling water quickly washed away,

Occasionally I’d take notice to the names of guests as they would appear,

On laminated paper, as if anyone could forget who each other were,

I’d Exhale, a simple sigh, as my mother took my tiny hand,

Guiding me away from the feasts and fancy, across the gymnasium floor to our once a year enchanted place, an area more open and clear, where only the two of us would dance and stare,

Still lacquered shiny from the game the night before,

I’d forget about the mud and dirt as that song would play it’s lonesome melody,

And her lips would curl towards the ceiling high, and I’d always wonder why she’d tear

Upon seeing the splendor within my eyes,

But tomorrow the town shall renew once more,

Weekly trips to the fruit stands, riding a bicycle my dad used to own,

Seeing children from the neighborhood, scattered across the grassy groves

Immersed in every type of play imagined, an idea lost with age,

And now, with a moistening of the face, I knew what my mothers’ tears had to say

Scars From A Tablet

Naivety towards location

Instinctual drives reference the prototype

As the primary preoccupation, yet it should have recalled the productive pedagogue

Like a tourist caught in isolation, begging for reprieve,

Falling for routines ranging from Crucifixion to Nativity,

 A native never would have, an actor couldn’t know,

Each soldier, flamboyant and free, single file in unison,

Marching forward, stumbling sideways in search of, secrets in plain view,

Earthbound and elementary, jaded curiosity clouding the thoughts of the forsaken man,

A procedure without envy, awe necessary to remain under wraps,

 The Penitentiary of denial would be on high alert,

Tonight it appears an inmate gains a chance to prove his worth,

How and why this all transpired will not be addressed,

 It is information we’re certainly not privy to, 

And knowledge, in this case, would create a cancellation; result in the invasion of privacy,

For all those secrets buried deep; hidden treasure of the home,

Shake the specificity of design,

 It’s not as if, in this designated abnormality

A person of your stature would ever find something,

As the interwoven index fingers, the pressing of the palms,

Dangling in the open air, convection with conviction

An intimate connection with but one condition

The Pitchfork

Double pronged,

Deadliest when left alone,

Stewing in the minds

Of individuals who favor

Positions of neutrality,

And nudging them towards the grayest territories,

Domination, degradation

Followed by Humiliation

Leading to isolation, infuriation

Then rehabilitation

A sociopath enters a crowded room,

Steps to the podium, taps the microphone three times

And humbly requests attention,

He begins to explain,

The nooks and crannies,

The abstractions in vanity

To which his brain abides,

The awe, the magnetism and poise

As he fulfills a goal which leads him to a charm,

All the while sizing up the room,

I asked a question, just one question,

Which part was your favorite?

To which at first he seemed off guard,

Drank some water and fixed his collar

 His eyes looked down, then slowly all around,

A smile crept upon his face, whispering why the hell not,

He then went on to explain how the greatest pleasure there is

In life is to have a life hanging in the balance, smothered by a feeling

That all is lost, yet they fight with all they have, but overmatched they succumb

The time for pleading’s come and gone, no more words, no more tears,

All that remained was a broken soul,

 Begging with the eyes, begging for me to end his suffers.

Guttural

It happened the way they said it would.

Alone, shuffling cards, on an otherwise uneventful eve,

 The lights went out and the sky grew black,

 A heated gust brushed about my back,

Subsequently pressing lightly, right to left, from esophagus to chest,

Seconds mingled with minutes later, I thought it best to stay still and quiet,

As it turns, I couldn’t have ran if I had chosen to,

My feet were seemingly frozen from the ankle to the bridge,

What was to happen seemed would happen soon,

Like a midnight caller, heavy breathing echoed through,

I pictured some ninja assassin, biding time as he chose which method to use,

Then something courageous, some would say, more aptly I’d go with stupidity,

 Bellowed out from deep within arose a voice I’d never heard,

This cackling, wheezing barely audible tone,

The exact message forgoes me now, but it was as exclamatory as I’d ever been,

The response received was easily surmised,

ERGK BRM GRA, RTZ VR KM, SL, GG, GARKJ and some other sounds I dare not repeat,

Echoed loudly through the room, up the hall and out the roof,

This guttural voice was not from here, not of man, not of animal,

It stood somewhere near me, all around me,

Now I wished to move, to try my best to get away,

Instead my bowels got distracted and lost their way,

To my knees I dropped and prayed, Lord, please do not let this be that day, away now Satan I do decree, you’re not welcome here, please now leave,

Then in obvious cinematic display,

A hand placed itself upon me,

Blood-filled nails I imagined, like a talons’ grip upon the skull,

My tongue diligently increased its pace, repeating sermons unknown to me,

It was then, and I don’t know why, I awoke my eyes to put a face to my fate,

 At this moment, my assailant could be seen, only somewhat, but enough,

Crimson glowing eyes of green, lured me in and brought me to,

 The fiercest, deepest, deadliest parts of Hell,

Where the sounds of the damned wailed hopelessly,

 Skull shaped seashells, laced the shore of blood-stained sand,

Bones and corpuscles scattered all about,

The river rose, its wash dissolved the soles of boots three inches thick,

Climbing toppled ashen Pillars to rise above the persistent swell,

 I couldn’t help think of what supposed ills I’ve distilled,

Just then, a bird erupted from below, shooting upwards, releasing cast off as it flew,

The sky was covered, like sparklers in the hands of children,

One such ember landed firmly upon the forearm I held high, to shade the eyes,

Wincing in exaggerated pain, nausea overcame me,

To which I awoke, vomit retreating down the throat,

Darkness was no longer, light filled the room

Cards lay scattered about the floor, I paused, shaking head in denial

How could all this have felt so real yet exist solely in the mind?

Picking up the queen of spades, an odd scar, freshly formed is seen upon the arm.

A Shift in Light

Darkness, spoon-fed through a sliver, bends towards

A star of shining brilliance, creeping beneath the gates,

Those truncated arches connecting this to there,

Places most of us don’t care enough about,

That is, until its’ worth merits knowing,

You close your eyes and pray for dreams,

Awake once more, yet this feeling you endure, almost admire,

Lids partly open, eyes partly closed, a subtle softness filters through,

Flittering by, above and below, a harshness rising, darkness grows,

Shielded by deadly lashes, you resist possession, and watch in silence this blackening,

Barely recognizable after what’s been seen, those shiny, sparkly romances, now

Composed from composite angles, only a single shadow remains, infringed upon yet barely hindered by,

Linger it does, linger it must, holding pause in distanced trust,

Whatever resides behind that door, no sense in speculation, but guess you must,

A corridor perhaps, long and winding; with a narrow precipice shortened near the core,

Instead revealed is a sea of red; a blood-red hue, magnetic in its’ satin glow,

A soft and painful melody silhouettes a silky violent tone,

 Swaying slightly to the cadence of an incantation; echoic are the metrics of a breeze,

Moments prior thought escaped,

These same memories now you cannot escape,

Redefined by sight and sound, Awakened; it appears you are.

In Rapt

As the curdling continues,

 I wrench within for

A cup of persistence cloistered in a tumbler of gin,

Finalizing the curt to-dos, nodding, molar holding lip in check,

Do not look disinterested or mince definitions,

Lest the agony may trudge in territory undesired,

An Explanation, Explaining Exclamations

Elaborate rebuttals, endless confrontations,

Quiet, I’ve learned is more than a state

It’s a mean towards an end,

As the decibels soar above the gradient

The blood grows violent, spitting and coughing, gurgling within

Cascades and episodic calls to action, writhing for release,

The stomach falters in tone and velocity, temperament grows blatant

Like an alligator, tugged by the tail, snapping jaw between the thrashes

Then the door does close, quickly bolt fastened where heads could turn,

Boots distance themselves away, eyes watch intent, for dread I was too obvious,

Whether the feet are shuffling, stomping or simply plodding along,

I don’t discern such trite affairs, only that they continue in that direction.

As my eyes observe the departure keenly, something awful I do dread,

For fear of pirouette, to see the axis spin in pretend,

Ignites chilling transistors that the flesh from spine than bone,  

Pity, I pray, have it so, upon this tired, wretched, solitary soul,

Do not recant the vows you’ve made, do not reposit , do only, disengage.