sour

Palate

Folder: 
Simple Thoughts

"So fleeting,

the feelings that need to be written,

so we try,

lest we forget,

 

because we can end the story

right here.

 

 

 

But the writer didn't quit,

there's more than just words

to be conveyed,

painted.

 

So coast,

let the feelings become a little older,

bolder, embolden the taste

and let your mind

 

slip into space

where much will be needed,

actual space,

for too much had happened today,

 

looking for a place to be.

Matter of fact,

every little thing

had it's own story,

 

poetry to be painted for,

but the encompassing tone

is the gratuity of it all,

the gravity of thanks,

 

given time and again,

and how that can make

heartfelt words

turn empty.

 

A day

full of so many happenings

can dilute

the flavor of each herb;

 

the finite details 

of a singular moment

crowded by 

too many spices.

 

The palate becomes overwhelmed,

tastes come all sides, 

pungent, 

assaulted with bitter flavors,

 

or salty experiences. 

Even the savory, slow

succumbing to sweet memories

can lead to sour smiles.

 

Too strong a concentration

on the subject of flavor,

and you lose the whole picture,

the entire day.

 

Exertion, 

parading down the street,

or a humble pawn in the presence

of greatness,

 

balance is best

to appreciate the meal, if you will.

To appreciate every moment,

and the entire day they build."

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A day full of so many flavors can distract your appreciation for the entire day itself.

For Your Ignorance

You decided yourself the idea of you and me, was not quite the reality you’d thought’d bring you harmony. Which might have been fair until you refused to give me the respect to be listened to, and express my antithesis.


Now you’ve left me stuck, self-reciting my sour-salty soliloquy. You tuned me out, showing the epitome of self-servient apathy.


You promised me, mind you had no intention to keep, that you’d still be a friend, until you said the drama’s too deep. It was a vessel you filled with full control and intent. You slithered away and then complained you were spent. You invented excuses and convinced yourself lies, of how I’m just as absurd as other desperate guys.


You made me a villain and issued me blame. Deluded yourself to think shouldn’t feel shame. And you expect me to float off and swallow a this pill that you thought might prescribe a sense that i’m the one who was

ill-mannered, ill-tempered, ill-willed, ill-advised to believe we could salvage the best of our times and harbor a new kind of relationship, where we’d grow apart fondly, with memories

clipped to our dashboards now facing separate directions. Yours, pointed to your fairy tale misconceptions. With your eye fixed on a perfect fairy tale life, glazed to subtle the flavor of inevitable strife.


You seem to forget, I got to know you a bit. Buried your nose in your so called “support” that would never

quit to praise your sadly distorted ambitions, and agree that my warnings were trespassing suspicions. But you never allowed them the transparency I saw, to gaze straight through your Disney princess façade.


Now you desperately grasp for validation with your newest unwitting vessel of self-inflation. You mold yourself hastily to fit in with his life. Tricking him to believe you’ll of course be his wife. When just like the dance you put me through, you’ll get tired and look for something else to do.


That poor young bastard has no clue that there is no way of really pleasing you. With your head in the clouds and expectations too high. You’ll ignorantly fly from him to the next guy.


One day you’ll burn out and PRAY begin to see, that if you’d just sat down and had listened to me. I’d have shown you a more realistic support, and stop racing away from the source of your short-

comings, consistently

fettered to your soul since you’re the cause of your own pain-soaked love letters.


But I owe you one tiny note of praise. Your timing in cutting me out of your days

aligned just the right way to set me up in a daze

with the new love I found, who’s a wonderful dame. If I weren’t so angry I’d spare you the phrase, “she puts you to shame.”


She’s understanding, secure, smart, supportive, thoughtful, and kind. She loving, goodnatured, even when in a bind. My gratitude to you is,

I never would have thought, that I’d find someone else who’s everything were not.

Sour Puss

Folder: 
human beings

the mind gets filled with decaying debris,

months and years of empty words,

like a cluttered closet never cleaned

 

cobwebs begin to form and spaces fill

dying matter clog the once well lit corridors

with unresolved differences

 

silent inner wars, like tremors 

below the fault line rise,

passions left ignored collide

 

between an empty page and an empty life 

lies her heart that yearns to speak, 

but utters only anguished cries 

 

bitter reminders of more rotted cavities

inside the tightly packed memories

boldly labeled 'forbidden'

 

she lashes out,

and for another moment,

what she has resisted for years is hidden

 

 

 

 

9:08 PM 7/3/2013 

©

 

 

...........

Author's Notes/Comments: 

about repression.

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When Life Gives You Lemons

When life gives you lemons, 
you'll pucker at first; 

but after a while, 

you'll become immune to the flavor. 
 

Who knows,

you may even acquire a taste for them.  

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