The Scoring Scorn Of Shadows

Today I remembered the anniversary

of the Y2K mania and prophecies,

all that paranoia and possible panic

as speculation spun its insanity

and we were warned

of a total collapse in the world,

the potential return to stone age living

from such a panoply in predictions.

 

We tried to subdue our fear,

gave into the purchase of water

along with taking cash out of the bank,

deep down though

I knew if disaster struck

it wouldn’t really be enough to survive.

 

Then waiting in those anxious moments

when the New Year came first to the Far East,

just watching the news to find out

if the so called experts were correct

about the techno-ruination expected.

 

But nothing happened

like so many other imagined dooms,

January came as every other year,

so we went shopping at the mall,

still slightly feeling that lingering stress.

 

Some have forecast their own ideas

about demise coming in 2010,

can’t help wondering how many of those seers

were the same that claimed Y2K was our end?

 

Eventually I suppose

a visionary of planet catastrophe

will end up being right,

ironically the person won’t get rich on the books

unlike all those who were wrong,

perhaps being able to merely enjoy saying,  “I told you so,”

even if it is until the earth blew up.

We Can Do This The Easy Way Or Hard Way

I have you under my power

for I am Fluffy,

ruler of everything,

and if you disobey

no mercy shall you,

because I know

your every secret,

each weakness that you hide,

so bring me what I want

or you’ll learn

why my last owner

was left so totally insane

from not bending to my will.

 

Now only the most expense

dog food will I expect

otherwise your TV remote

will end up buried forever

along with your beer,

for when I destroy those two worlds

you’ll be left completely ruined

just another victim of my wrath

so utterly consumed with fear.

Then I’ll Dream

The waters of life always flow upstream

to touch the bridges of possibility,

it can’t be gained by depending

upon another person to paddle,

this boat in my soul only floats

if my hands move in sync with my ability.

 

Even if the surface sailed is smooth and still,

no matter if I can find the fish I seek

in the shallow spots of ease,

within I still am beckoned ahead

a rendezvous with my goals.

 

For I can listen to the oarsman’s voice

who say they know each tide and bank,

understand their depths and perils,

but wisdom without sweat

is just a trolling trudge in circles

because it never yields the peace

that comes from piloting with all my passion,

intensely thrusting my glide in earnest stroke

towards where awaits the fulfillment

of the vision that gives me strength.

 

Though the sun burns my skin

on my passage to the crest of my zeal,

I will not cease or surrender to lethargy’s lure.

 

With each inch floated shall I not lose heart

since I only thrive when all I am

completely yields to my flame in hope

to realize reaching the dock of my desires.

 

Once I have anchored in that spot

filled with the joy of that success

then I’ll dream

what is the next landing for my life.

R Syllable Rights

Yes, yes,

forsooth and devoted to clarity,

I hedge

a legion of ants

unto the flag

of the Underrated States of Am-an-airgun

and two the republished,

for witch in spans.

 

Juan nation under God,

invisible,

with a liberal key

and just us to get it all.

 

Because I am such a patriot

ever  ready to what it all says

as in that pre-ramble to the Constitution,

 

Wee the peephole

of the United Skates,

in order form

for a more perfect local union,

establish just hush,

insure a domestic transparency,

pro-fight the common difference,

promote a General’s welfare,

and secure the blessings of a liberal knee

to R elves and a postured flea,

do oar a dane and establish

this Constriction of the United Skates,

Love’s Labyrinth

Lips lingering light lashes,

lavished little lustrous labors,

like luscious lollipop licks.

 

Later life learns love’s laces

leaving lasting layered luminous lacquers,

latently letting languishing loftily.

 

Lies lure language lava

let lugubrious looming lament

leak latrine level lotions.

 

Legacy’s literature leftovers

lose legendary legions,

litany ledgers leaks lucidity.

 

Loneliness leper longs Lepidoptera’s liberty

looking listlessly loudly legitimizes

leathery layers legalized.

 

Leeward leaves lurid lullabies

lets lacking lively luxury

lasso luck’s lifting leverage.

 

 

Footsteps

He heard them in the following again,

just the faintest thud in the darkness

of the maze is storage buildings,

those feet always waiting until he walked

before they would move.

 

His heart pounded so hard

when he summoned that memory

about the first time he was aware

those black figured beings had watched from a distance,

how he could feel them so close

saw them in nightmares,

but they stayed out of sight.

 

It drove him insane with fear,

any second they could suddenly become abductors

then like his co-workers

none would hear of him again.

 

Inside his stomach juices burned

the paranoia and anxiety were eating like an acid,

if only he hadn’t looked in the file

where the formula was located,

it was too late for that,

there was only one escape

by drinking one of two formula versions,

one promised possible psychotic episodes

afterwards the chemicals would metabolize

into maggots that devour your organs

a second offer a chance to become invisible,

finally free from his stalkers.

 

That door knob would barely turn

on the warehouse building,

at midnight it was eerie enough in this alley,

which was made it so much more terrifying

when the sounds of those feet were now racing towards him.

 

Body shaking out of pure panic,

fingers fumbling to force the door open,

sweaty hands struggling to get a decent grasp on the knob,

lips fighting the urge to scream,

mercifully he was at least able to make it inside.

 

Then he slammed the door shut,

locked the bolt

just before he could hear them pounding outside

to try and break it down,

a few steps and he made it to the shelf,

on it was his only hope,

however the two blue vials had no labels,

no way to know which one contained the transparency serum,

only there was no time to wait,

right hand grabbed the vial on the left and swallowed its contents

and then….

Destination

Each step I took

brought a tear,

the sky always leaden

and threatening.

 

Hope's wind

never touched my life,

leaving my heart

strangled

in the beguiling shadows

of loneliness.

 

Until I came

upon your face,

seeing in your merciful eyes

a sanctuary ending my travail,

where love became

my destination.