As I always say, I do write a poem a day… just been so busy its hard to find time to post them.

These final hours…

 Features fade from memory;

Coated in years of their baggage

School chums are unrecognizable.

Few escape gravitational forces

Or challenges that torque souls.



Difficult as wading in mud –

A general amnesia of those days

Thankfully erases most of my teen angst.

I do remember crying when I saw

My crush walk past holding hands with another.

Now I  feel grateful that it was a naïve crush…


Day. Night. Day. Night…

I wonder how we got here.

Wasn’t it just graduation?

It all runs together.

A little hiccup of clarity

before these final hours…





A suggested swing


At the flinch


Invisible points

Airy notches for insults


Burns outward


Act normal


Blisters thought


Blossoms in the night


Seeped in sweat


Virtual dreams


Cell remembrance

Leary days

Weary nights


Never trusting



No change here…

 Same repetitive patterns,

Least no appearance of major psychosis

Or an innate desire to purchase guns and ammo.

The same continues with being alone allot;

Just like in childhood

When imaginative play filled the day

And dreams drifted to dawn.

Never felt alone with imaginary friends

Just like now…

No changes here.

Imaginative play fills the day

And dreams drift faster to dawn.

The only exception…

There aren’t any lightening bugs for a night light jar.


Fairy wings

 To achieve lift, it is optimal

To be slender and svelte

But this clunky body

Needs dragon wings

To boost skyward.

Where’s the fairy dust

When you need it?

Not worthy to fly…

Disappointment leads

To skipping past pages of accruements –

Head pieces festooned with flowers,

Ballet type slippers with long ribbons,

Skirts of silk and tulle, satin corsets,

Garlands, crowns, wands and capes too.

Costumes and all the festooning

in the Universe

Won’t create a magic realm

To dwell in with other fey folk.


Escaping into the night,

Intimate stars glide in the elusive sky,

Dog walks solidly on the earth.

Business is achieved and collected…

Lungs breathe out quiet wishes

In puffs of moist breath kissing the cold air.

Wishes geared to seeing again

The many enchanted creatures

I knew from childhood…


Astral Birthday

 Are there still birthdays after death?

Point of departure from physical to ether

Is a birth of sorts… a reverse birth.

Happy Deathday sounds strange;

Perhaps Happy Re-Soul Day would be better

For the traditional song sung by comrades.

Each anniversary of release counts until

The next departure into a new form.

Is there a going away celebration too?

Congratulation toasts to see a soul off…

How does one keep track of all the ins and outs?

Soul, body, astral plain, physical form…

Repeat over and over.

Least some say that’s the rotation.

Deja vu might be the overlapping clue.

Already seen but forgotten till the next time.


This was a comment on Face Book:  “Thanks to Parker Posie I now have the perfect line to get me out of doing anything I don’t want to do: “I’m sorry I can’t. I have a birthday party to attend on the astral plane.”” I was intrigued by birthdays on the astral plane.