Off line

My connection is down

No signal to outside world

Lost in confusion for a way

Restoring to local contact

Awkward conversations grow

Strangers left together for years

I’m well aware of your issues

But never seen your personality

I find you less annoying somehow

The distance of a barbed wire fence

The closeness we always shared

It seems we may not be as different

A blackout was needed to see you

I should apologize for not noticing

The person that you have always been

We share an impersonal nature

We choose the easiness of isolation

Maybe the world isn’t cold, just lazy

In mist of internet darkness, I grow

Wait, the networks back got to go

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The Edge, my old friend

I step from the edge

Maybe it left me behind

Impulses were heartbeats

Chances flapped like wings

Ashes of Icarus, my memories

Bruises, postcards from edge

Fathers chargin, wore as crown

Now the soul tires at the view

Thoughts make fences before me

Fear, my perfect stranger sits beside

His sister worry reaches for me

Her warm hug masks cold touch

My younger shadow warns me

My hearing has diminished somehow

Maybe I never had it at all

My eyes still long for a view

My heart wishes for random beat

The edge still calls out to me

It takes even longer to go back

The flights of fancy just mental

Deep inside, my old friend knows

We are not what we used to be

To each other, at least.

Maybe, maybe not

Maybe, maybe not

My thoughts squirm

Magic 8 ball like

Highly possible dances

Future unclear pirouettes

Driverless path lies ahead

Curves careen like sleds

Slippery slope races by

Every grip is a lie

Smiling sending control

The stop authors the story

I’ll cling to the same thought

Maybe, maybe not

Time

What doesn’t stay

Sand falls less quickly

Hourglasses choke today

What I lost

Buried deep in past

Things devolved in value

My mind describes

Shadows in solid touches

Still thinking it matters

Time doesn’t know

Nor care about me

Dust in the wind

Sunday Whirl – Modern Problems

The stick sings as it slashes through the air. The promising cut flies passing the machine that strands all that data in digital netherland. I stare yearning for light in the darkness. My mind’s journey talks to me pitching ways to get even with technology.

FFAW – outside my window

This week’s photo prompt is provided by Jade M. Wong. Thank you Jade!

The rocking chair slowly dips forward and snaps back. Over and over it repeats. Two dead eyes look upon Maple street. A hollow body creaks as chair moves.

“They are coming here…. THEY are coming HERE….” Gerald rouses the stale air about him. “Just let me BE!”

A beeping sound rattles the front of his stone house, shaking the windows. The big box truck lunges at the yard. It’s tires tear into green grass. The engine roars as the curb resists the weight of someone else’s memorabilia collection.

Gerald scoots the chair closer to the window. “Leave me be! It’s my home! Its still my … home!”

Two figures emerge from the truck. Their eyes wonder across the house built like a fortress.

“If it just looked as solid on the inside…” Hank speaks a bit louder than he thinks.

“It just needs some love.” Peggy wraps her arm about his waist.

“Old abandoned houses…..” He smiles briefly “Remember taking all that old stuff out….filling dumpsters.”

“Didn’t we throw out the rocking chair by that window?” She starts to pull away.
175 words

Eyes of Green

Dreams feed the mind

Fantasy nurtures the heart

Trapped by pools of green

Release reluctantly by blinks

Catch me watching you

Strange feelings well within

Obsession is terrible addiction

Scratching inaccessible itches

Hope breaths desperation

But curves raise the pulse

Dreams still feeding mind

Fantasy starving the heart

Photo Credit: Pixabay.com

Sapphire blue

Sapphire blue

Piercing sky resets eyes

Clear autumn air livelives

Colors of trees flavor world

Energy channels

Warm days refresh world

Cool nights remind us of change

Squeezing last of the warmth

Sapphire blue

Numbs the future chills

Hoping for Indian Summer

Remembering the summer

Serenity

My hands mold clay

The more it moves

The less it calms

Like distance breezes

Believing stirs tiny change

Calmness comes from inspiration

Exhaustion slows the mind

Acceptance is the dream

Inside we build fortresses

Perhaps one day it’ll come

Serenity seldom climbs walls

It is the clay we mold

The ball we smash

Over and over again