sola.
a door opens,
but not by me.
responsibility
to respond
and receive
a fix, yet the problems
still exist. mixed
company to coupling
to troubling the waters
of my soul. and still,
i enjoy the thrill
of substitute teachers;
yet i never learn my lesson.
replacements and refreshments to
edify my soul. and yet,
i sit and fret
about tomorrow’s agenda.
no money guaranteed
for time spent then,
but today we can see
overpaid athletes.
lifetimes upon lifetimes
before i can even dream
of. America,
is this the bliss that you speak
of? robbery in broad daylight
as the distance takes flight
between groups of people
which there seems to be no
"we". the Constitution no longer from
we us. but why do i care enough
to entertain the news? an
apolitical soul with the apathetic
blues. now i see different hues
and shades than i did back then;
it’s bright outside...
...even in the night,
a full moon illuminates the situation
of life and its contemplation
of events within and intentions shown out-
ward. no other direction but for-
ward in all conversation.
so as shadows cast
depict an embrace,
the first and the last
of things to come,
the evening remains as hollow
as the dark which is hard to swallow.
the moon still shines,
but i don’t drink ever- even tonight.
scowls and howls for and/or
at an object which relies so much
on something else. it burns
and travels, the situation unravels;
still too dark to tell.
nevertheless, i wish it well...
...then a door opens,
but not by me.
opportunity
to respond
and receive
a fix, yet the problems
still exist. mixed
company to coupling
to troubling the waters
of my soul. and still,
i enjoy the thrill
of substitute teachers;
is this my final lesson?
what about the heart’s whole...