perhaps

I have no cause to promote
just a tendency to provoke
thought and invoke lesser gods
in passing judgement
Mother I suspect
there’s no direct way to detect
the worth of just deserts
or the merit of ferreting truth
from rotted roots
clinging to history
like it could thwart extinction
or help make a distinction
between treasure and trash
and measures too rash
to consider
Between what we’ve outgrown
and what we have sown
to convince us
our instinct
to raise our fists
and pound the ground
just may be founded
on circumstance
and we’d be better off dancing madly under a lone star

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kind of

perhaps my vanity explains
why I won’t refrain
from acts that I disdain
partaking just to say
yes, I’m alive today

drawing quirky pictures
painting pointed words
padding expectations
framing the absurd
to make you smile
to make you wince
to try some new way
to only convince you
yes, I’m alive today

oh how I spend my days
all these things I do and say
just to keep the grey at bay
and remember that though
all my colours fade
Hey! I am alive today

a lesson on colour

all the lectures
in the world
on light
and waves
and chemicals
and cones
couldn’t teach me
about colour
like painting
at dusk

degrees of magnitude

You say when you think of me
it’s with nostalgia
a surreptitious smile
spreads across your flushing face

When I think of you
frustration, despair, shame and desire
fuse into a howl of longing
I grimace and cringe

with teeth clenched
waiting for each wave of pain
to finish pounding me
into the dirt by degrees

this stage

I stare at this stage
as if I can summon you
with the blink of the cursor
entice you
with the blankness of the page
to let you dance

without lines
or rules
yet you recede
just at the thought

de(con)struction

if my love were a painting
it would be a splash of red so pure
I’d waste endless canvas
tiling walls in ruddy grey
if only to recapture
some muddy tint or shade

if my love were a song
there’d be a painful strain
just a part of the refrain
and l would squawk
and screech all  night
just to hit that note again

but my love was a touch
in the dark
that brought to light
what ought to stay buried
or shoved out of sight

my love was insistent
it bore like worm
prying you open
with flattering words
pricking and prodding
your conscience to wake
and take a stand

my love was high strung
with intricate lines
to slice you up
and cut you down
how else could I get over you

the naming

As though a name
could be kerosene
and speaking it
the match
Mute with fear
and awe,
we longed
Enthralled
For so long
Our hearts and guts
cramped

Was it exhaustion or frustration
that made the first move
to drag it into the light
and tease it apart
to release the tension

Now the only thing certain
is the name on our lips
that freezes our smiles
between delight and dismay
unknowing whether
we wished to find
a means to ignite
or to tame it

blame

I wish I could blame it
on media and capitalism
and patriarchy and classism
or some other ideal of no worth
but all the abuse
and deception I’ve brooked
was born from this need
to be loved

daily prompt: ascend

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