Privacy with Ashtray

all I needed was a little time alone and have a smoke

I didn’t need to become your privacy with an ashtray

 

© dld 07.12.13

not as much of an AHA moment, as played out in my head

species of another time, an era gone
wheels were not invented, they were shared and the world learned how it turns as do the seasons,
planets swirl around
an orbit where things only remain the same, at least in respect to time.
it’s infinite definition is how we see it, pretty optimistic of us…
pretty optimistic in the assumptions we make.
.
.
we are going to die.
.
THERE, I said it!
we were born, and our lives have proven not to be infinite…
but i am hopeful that my words travel further in time than I.
.
-dld decenber 30m 2010-

“Live a little on very little!” *

Some thought it was crazy,
having a reunion on New Year’s Eve,
but there we were
decked-out in our finest prom gowns and tuxes,
platform shoes. corsages and cumberbunds.
The music was pure Soul Train meets The Stones,
but we still danced in that silly line, boy, girl, boy, girl –
doing the hokey-pokey just one more time
if only for the sake of reminiscing.

As the bewitching hour grew nearer,
I asked the waitress to bring us a bottle of Champale,
and a round of eight glasses, not the juvenile plastic we used to use.
Back in the day, we sported ourselves with this drink made in Trenton,
acting sophisticated and wise
while we got trashed and drove home not knowing if we stopped
at that red light on Main Street and Vine.

Ten, nine, eight, seven
hugs, smiles and toasting six, five, four, three
two, one Woo-Hoo!
We all laughed as we threw that bottle
and smashed the wall
with our glasses, not cups,
we knew our lives hadn’t changed much at all.

We exhanged addresses and phone numbers,
swearing we’d stay in touch,
but we knew that time, family and work
stood in the way of such.

Tonight, however, we were happy to be
in the same ballroom as that night in ’78,
hootin’ and hollerin’ until it was late
and the price for our limos was exceeding the limit
of cash left in our pockets.
Promises were made,
only to be said in politeness.

Hail to our class,
may this next year be fruitful and happy,
our bodies healthy
and may all of our soul’s be righteous!

-dld december 15th, 2010
* Tag line for Champale
—————————————
the Muse is IN writing group: prompt #96 – Choose a sentence and keep going with it:
Laughing, we smashed bottles against the wall….
We hid beneath the shacks, small pebbles in our mouths …
I asked the waitress…
((I chose them two!!!))

Coming of Age

“Psychics can see the color of time, it’s blue.”
that is what I wrote on the wall
while I sat in the kitchen sink,
waiting for the rain to stop.

I was four years old and still fit in that sink on South Street,
nevermind how I knew what a psychic was,
or that I knew how to write…
let’s just say that I knew things.

as childhood unfolded,
I knew other things with such certainty,
others learned to avoid me
as though I was a pandemic plague
and out to get them, put them under my spell,
or eat their brains!

I knew I was Coming of Age,
when I learned I can make things move,
make events happen,
and when I learned that it would benefit me…
I was punished
by Going Mute.

as I was Becoming a Woman,
I knew pink organized in bubbles
only to float away in one’s dreams,
but dreams can be lucid
and be moulded to your heart’s desires.
I Became a Woman.

I knew I was Entering Wisdom,
when I learned music dances to my breath
while the sound of the abandoned wailed angst
in my bones and I could free them
by teaching them Love.

the others,
they cast yellow shades of cowardess,
in the shadows that forever followed them.
they should have learned to Listen…
for, I’ve learned to speak with my pen.

11.16.10 dld
– – – – –
written for the muse is IN

A Magic Act Like You’ve Never Seen!

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Today begins in an old building once used to store stage props. There were three floors and an attic, atop a cellar. The building was narrow, the rooms small, but plentiful. It was the perfect place for Theo to live … Continue reading →

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