Bearded Ballads 30/30: Killjoy

You are a facebook status:

hope, beyond

hope

someone will understand

how it is you feel

how it feels to be you

looking for someone

to open up a dialog

to comment

or to even like the thing.

Please,

troll my page.

Cryptic, inane

small creatures

all a clumping mass

can’t make no bones about it

hide nor hair of

an owl pellet bolus.

You are a facebook status:

Spread your wings,

make like Ben Franklin and go fly a kite.

 “Shoot for the moon because even if you miss you’ll still land among the stars.”

Ben always said.

Yes, but you’ll also

be hurtling

through the cold,

lifeless reaches

of space

because he also said

“Don’t believe everything you read on the internet.”

You are a facebook status:

song, being sung

just the right line

makes it yours

because you feel it

in the music

and it speaks to you.

Yet, like a child,

you can’t.

All the life

has been bleached

from your bones

creativity picked clean

and your tombstone says it all:

There lies so-and-so.

They took what they knew

but they didn’t even know themselves

Bearded Ballads 29/30: Out with the Old

Someone else’s notepad

yellow, but browning

forgotten ‘neath

dust of ages

thrust upon a shelf.

Plotting out poems

having been lonely

too long, still,

unsure,

forced out

to fend for themselves.

This is all the time they have left.

Haunted

in their emptiness

in their words too much to bear

if only

they hadn’t been left behind.

Bearded Ballads 28/30: Crosswalk

Morning fog

yet

to have burned off,

but here comes the sun.

Head swims

through the thickness

as I’m hailed

name called

over and again

if that’s me

backwards, along

soupy grooves.

Barefoot

across the street

not looking both ways

ever inward.

Dangerous

in the darkness of the day.

I see, if only too late

this song

isn’t about you.

No, I’m full

eating blackbird tonite.

Shouldn’t have had that

second slice

of humble pie.

Bearded Ballads 27/30: Dirty Dishes

Washing machine

background music

stanzas set

to pots and pans

for the cleanest

tune.  Lulling

me to sleep

through its

cyclical convulsions.

Bearded Ballads 26/30: Sunspots

Thoughts

on the edge of

this, a darkness

where the stars

have yet to shine.

Universe

expanding, the dark

matters don’t

holding back only

until

morning light trickles in.

Bearded Ballads 25/30: To Boldly Nerd

Though I was not a
virgin, tonite may be
my first time
making an effort
to watch
ST:TNG
(that would be
Star Trek: The Next Generation
in nerd-speak.)

Traversed forty minutes
at nowhere near light speed
to pay big-city
movie ticket prices
for two episodes
on the big-screen.

For those fans
following along
when it first aired
it was a two-part
cliffhanger episode
bridging the third
and fourth seasons.

Resistance was futile.

I believe, however,
I have successfully
maxxed out
my experience points
for the day and

LEVELED UP!

my nerd quotient.

+5   Professor X cameo!
+10 Big Screen Bacchanalia
+25 Star Trek cherry: BROKEN!

Bearded Ballads 24/30: The Beakoning

The refusal of Spring

having finally burst forth

short shoots

and window dressing

along branches

dropping petals

giving way to thunderstorms

bound

to fall tonight.

Am I

the only witness

to this,

other than the

worrisome whitetails

wigging out

all along the mountainside?

Or the birds, as they

erupt in

flight, synchronized

patterns

across the skies

fleeing

to their final roosting place.

Abreast

of that something

which cannot

yet be seen

only, for the time

being

felt.