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Funny
not funny how I can't stand myself inside anymore I'd like to take a scissors and cut pieces out I can't stand how my brother is right in front of me but he is gone far far away the shadows in his eyes make him look hunted, haunted like a stray I feel guilty because he lives in a one room closet of darkness I can't stand that I can't stand how the youngest brother lectures me and believes how much better his life is going now that he has cut us out and how we never quite measured up to his precise and exacting standard I can't stand it but here I am and how it is that he's able to erase us without a second thought even though I know he knows we share the same night sky I can't stand it but here I am I can't stand how I'm getting older and its not any thing like what I remember or long ago what I've seen I don't feel new and improved or even bolder I slump my heart lives in my left my right shoulder and gets punched I can't stand it but here I am my Grandparents had things so different more respect real admiration close hugs and pecks on the cheek relaxing family vacations and people who loved them up as they were sending them off to the great beyond they were only alone when they chose to be alone I can't stand it but here I am I feel cold like I'm always walking into a gusting wind and my clothes and my brain are soaking wet I've no Grandchildren our parents are planted like stones for more than ten years I have no children friends have moved on or died suddenly while bodily pains have moved in and multiplied I have words but not much conversation I'm tired of being disagreeable but why is it that the invisible are the older getting old? I can't stand it but here I am funny, not funny how the moving hive buzzes discounts and calls it progress each and every day how funny, but not funny that in my biggest imaginative story I could never have believed it would have turned out in this twisted way funny, not funny how there's so little time and place for freedom for embracing for seeing and believing for gazing into the truth of one another eyes and how the idea of truth is emeshed within the lies one time twenty years ago I'd carefully decided to prepare my waiting aluminum pod capable of launch I was ready to leave quietly after a serious chat with Whom I Thought Was God I can't stand this anymore but here I am things are funny, not funny I look across the table across the briefness of the room across the pool at the gym to see the warm spark that is only you your face so funny, but not funny I remember my reasons why I chose to stay, to be the fool to do my best calmly to remain please show me the reasons now in your funny, not so funny face I want to see them in your eyes to know I'm somewhere in there I've found a place and that a trace of me lingers somewhere quietly within your languid green gaze. LEGAL COPYRIGHT for poem and also for this Author/Writer Melissa A. Howells 12:32 AM July 1, 2019 time/date stamped and also for this LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD I hope all of you reading this have found someone , inside of you or outside of you who is your beloved funny, not funny face. Lucky me...my funny, not funny face has helped me find that within, as well. Vote for this poem |
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