people conspire
to make me happy
sweet cakes in boxes
arrive in the mail
angels appear on couches
speaking in familiar tongues
friends from the war
bring whiskey and good news
from the front
owl observant
i watch for the soft spot
eyes so wide
believing none of it
save for the alliance
to the north
and the family
i have left
yet they persist
invitations sit
uneaten broccoli garnish
on a sea of fried rice
pebbles at the window scream
come out and play
while i consider the mayhem
inside
This entry was posted on January 8, 2012 at 6:51 pm and is filed under Writing and Poetry with tags art, baseball, birthdays, cake, cannibals, christianity, criminal activity, explosions, fire, gangster, god, harold camping, homecoming, jersey shore, liquor, love, love lost, miracles, music, pagan, parks, partical physics, patriotism, philosophy, poetry, red sox, religion, satre, short story, suspense, sweet memories, thug, trains, travel, USA, wildlife, wombats, writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
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all of it 
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