Faith Blanket
You pull it tight when your soul grows cold;
and your visions drift to a darker place.
Doubt and fear seep into the fold,
but wait to play your pocket ace.
A mother’s good night tuck,
love to fill you from the inside out.
pray for the others who are stuck,
help them escape society’s heavy grout.
A beacon to reflect what you do,
a GPS light-hope in life’s ADD storm.
Your faith is there to guide you,
the faith blanket keeps your soul warm.
Time
I am the time traveler,
looking back,
unable to act…
yet I wish I could make a change.
I can try to scream, “Stop! Don’t do it!!!”
But the sound proof memory glass…
And the movie still ends the same.
Close my eyes and jump forward,
try to see what it will be.
But it never is as I think I see.
I hope I can make it viable,
but life’s unknown x-factors
are the only reliable.
All the time I move along,
as the new leaves chill to wilt.
Time as the universe suture,
I drift in the non-stop current,
into the space time future.
Keys
Planted deep within
by the most graceful of hands
In the human center of thought
ruling the human made lands
Alive in those comfortable dreams
I danced in the youth of a child
I reigned in the wonder in our eyes
and felt safe in nature’s wild
I am the source of that inner voice
a mountain spring of knowledge pure
Bubbling glimpses of hope
to reinforce your decision sure
On your velvet couch of numbers and facts
I can never ask to lie down
I can never chose to quit the game
or decide to leave town
I am your full time resident
three roommates and friends
One in mind, one violent time
one can never will to end
But the ship is not mine to control
just your passenger lost again
Mispelled my name on your roster
when it was time to come in
Pleasure they convince that you earned
gifts they grant with envy
They turn their media spotlight on
And remind you that you feel happy
Still you continue to let the garbage seep in
Millions of flashing pictures and words
display these failure influencing images
all made with messages for the herd
Forced to drive in a straight line
Determined by decisions of what to broadcast
You choose to look and stare at the glare
loosening our ties I try to grasp
They are full of money back lies
on your weakness they pounce
They only see in terms of profit
and how to steal every last ounce
Those evil drugs and second guesses
Important moments of choice
I yelled and screamed my loudest
but you still listened to the wrong voice
They change your process of thought
those old men force a bad connection
They sabotage my compass of life
with you in the wrong direction
Forget their influence for free
step up and see the whole picture painted
Realize the outcome of your artist
with no more thoughts society tainted
They rearrange your natural values
locks to try and shut me out
But it is me with the key
to unlock the lies they shout
FAU-1996
state of mis-union
All eyes on his speech,
handshake lobbying, blah and blah.
Fresh lies in his preach,
promises to help Ma and Pa.
Words rehearsed with a worn out smile.
“America is great and getting better!”
But just wait a while,
for the opposition letter.
Facts, lies, sources and spies.
Wars, jobs and economic ties.
Same lines, different year,
old guard, new terrorist fear.
I wish I knew what they really say,
in the private cigar rooms of the big bosses.
What grand plans come into play,
when they decide who takes the losses.
Do they really want to give me a hand?
Or is that just for a constituent?
Is this to help We the People of the Land?
Or to cushion the multi-home retirement?
inside out questions
Should I lie for the man,
and be a good little worker bee?
Forgo who I am,
ignore the little voice of me?
Is it time to draw the line?
Stand up to the boss?
Risk the bank time,
and possible loss?
I just want to sleep at night,
and not regret the decisions.
Help the customers right,
avoid these shady intersections.
But I also need the paper,
numbers to add up and spend.
Feel a little safer,
Greedy means to an end.
If I won’t, others will.
Push me aside,
and get their fill.
So I become the Yes Man,
happy with my check.
Follow the big man’s plan,
and buy beer to forget.
little blue dot
A molecule in a freckle on a spec of dust,
floating in a sunbeam…
Their electro-magna-scopes sends an image.
Jumping eyes, my ADHD in HD,
GPS avatar marks the spot.
I sit on a pillar in the middle of the empty,
the edges just out of reach.
My little blue world…
filled with all we ever did know,
with everybody that ever was…
and is…
and will be…
It all means nothing:
my work, my studies, tears and cheers.
The prayers, good deeds, and scary fears.
Fill up the dumpster with old Wal-Mart Specials,
Along side leftovers and mortgage papers.
Why does it matter?
As I ride this little blue world?
It all ends up at Trash Mountain, anyways.
Decades of gifts, hand me downs and shredded bank files.
Then Mom calls, and I realize:
I’m just a pixel on a dot in a mural of everything,
as another spec floats by.
“Hi Mom!” 🙂
OK to let go
Tyler Durden is right,
It is OK to let go.
If you hang on too tight,
your life does not flow.
Planning ahead is stress.
Looking back is regret.
Smile for the insta-gram-moment,
and your navigation is set.
Do not try to be the rock,
In the flowing river of time.
Go with the future current,
and embrace what you find.
friends
I am truly blessed,
even when I want to be alone.
I am missed,
as I try to coil up on my own.
Friends and family,
who see through the facade.
They call just to say hi,
my personal rescue squad.
A ride to the airport,
or couch to sleep on.
A few bucks you can borrow,
watch the dog while I’m gone.
Gifts in different shapes and sizes,
at different times in my life.
All great people,
help carry me through the strife.
Circles intersect circles,
at birthdays and barbeques.
Happy cheers holding beers,
pictures you never lose.
I want us all to come together,
One giant circle of friends.
All in on my thank you toast…
its all over
silence from the snooze bar
leaky squeak of the shower knob
hiss of the coffee machine steam
ding of the burnt tinged bagel
muffled click of the deadbolt
squeak of worn brakes
quiet silence of an expired mp3
rattle and huff of the cooling engine
quiet snuff of the mechanical door
I wait all eight hours for the happy symphony of windows shutting down
squeal of arming the alarm
bright goodbye’s and sunny see ya tomorrow’s
I gotta get these brakes fixed
jingle of keys that alert Fido
grocery bags crinkle on the counter
beep of the microwave popcorn
last gurgle of beer
and ping of the empty bottle in the full trash bin
white noise of a static channel
is it too early in the morning
or too late at night?
shannon apollo 