Roll the Bones
we are the last ones left alive
you and me, and them
encased and calcified
tossed about a vacuum
by a spiral arm with a fascination
for near misses and pyrotechnics
roll the bones; roll the bones
flesh and fur, pebbles and rocks
claws and teeth, fire and brimstone
we’ve been stashed away
locked up and picked through
fashioned and haphazardly satchelled
feral felines fighting it out in burlap
until the powers that be
can decide who among us
is salvageable
communicate or be obliterated
you have to be known, to exist
judgement is the invisible hand stamp
that confirms dues paid
for acceptance
into the human race
it isn’t success
it isn’t being first
so slow down, jack rabbit
the fix is in; there’s no finish line
just blackened ruins behind
far-out-there prairies ahead
carpeted with stiff-bladed grasses
that depend on your speedy ways
to slice and cut
I was just standing here
blowing in the wind, looking sharp
that cat came up and ran into me
wait ... we were talking
about rabbits
and not bleeding cats
where’d the bunnies go
down into rough-woven tunnels
and steel-wool warrens
safe, sound, and hair-shirt insulated
they heard there were some cats
on the prowl
we are the last ones left alive
you and me, and them
encased and calcified
tossed about a vacuum
by a spiral arm with a fascination
for near misses and pyrotechnics
roll the bones; roll the bones ...
Behind the House on the Hill
forgotten
a lone tree
blooming behind
the old house
the one on the hill
the house is abandoned
a dire event
ran out its occupants
made re-sale impossible
the sky above
remains blue
when the wind
chases the clouds
off to the west
down into the vale
the sun un-shielded
shines and blares
the shadows
within the house
remain unreachable
uninhabited and ill-lit
the tree searches
air with limb, soil with root
searching, searching
blooms lure bird and bee
oglers and botanists
leaf and petal
rustle in the breeze
a siren’s call
whispered and scented
won’t someone
something, please
join me
behind the house
on the hill
stay awhile
Dark Doorway
first snow fall
a crinkled oak leaf
a dark doorway
to next April's skies
False Skin
Façade, false skin, an illusion
An invisible blanket
No warmth, only delusion
Weighted upon your shoulders
Yoked about your throat, façade—
More millstone than sheltering cloak
So take hold
Go on now; reach deep within
Peel back the deceptive dermis
It only feels like skin
Grit your teeth at the pity
Sharpness dulled by soft truth
Oh-so-sweet, vulnerability
Shed the brittle shell
Bare your soul, scars, and sinew
Be brave; the blood, the shame
Washed away with a tear …
Okay, maybe two
***
Words and Poetry are my own. Images unless otherwise attributed are a collaboration between me and AI, Grok. They should be viewed visual haiku, in that they contain symbolism. The concepts are my own creation and the rendering AI. Keep drawing and painting. AI cannot replace your hard work and excellence. Roll the Bones and the House Behind the Hill are published in Monsters, Avatars, and Angels. False Skin is published in Strays. Dark Doorway was first published on the X, social media platform. All titles below represent lengthier works and are available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores. Click on any title below to further explore and support my writing.