 |
| Ronnie M Lane |
SMELL OF EMOTIONS
The smell of emotions fills the night,
a strange taste on the lips of the wind;
a mystery leaves footprints
on a hard drive near the clouds.
Confusion arises in the shadows
where lines are blurred
and decisions deferred.
Possibility floats in the air
like the seeds of a dandelion,
scattered in the breeze.
DEATH STALKS THE CONSCIENCE OF A NATION
Drawing a line in the sand of your mind
is a secret commitment because no one
except you will know when you cross it
or what you said would happen if you did so.
It is a secret test that has been declared illegal
because those who took it failed
or failed to report accurate results.
Spotlights have devolved into searchlights
and the sounds of war are thumping
in the ears of the eager, the thirsty.
TAKING A BREATH
…..for Steven Pierce
Footnotes force the
revelation that things
were exactly as they
seemed at the time of the
crime.
Balance is the frequent
flyer of criminal behavior.
Sometimes bad things
happen and you walk into
them.
You may not
believe in evil
but it
believes in
you.
RANDOM WALK
The future is a convection oven
The mystery that is God
lifting us in a boiling motion
is revealed in the whole picture.
toward eternity, a clock
Sound is the secret of energy
whose face has no tells.
both in its motion and its birth.
Magnetic fields hold true power
Darkness masks responsibility,
as the glue of the universe.
there is no shadow in pure light.
We get plenty of warning about things
We are not partners
over which we have no influence.
in cosmic activity
The only response which works for us
nor could we bear the weight
is to duck or pretend we are dead.
of a cosmic trickle down.
The blind are captive of the spoken word;
The best plan we have
the deaf are isolated by the limits of their vision.
is to stay out of the way.
Death will come from the sun.
We may talk a tough game
When its smile focuses on us
but in that arena
hiding will not help.
we can’t take a punch.
CHURCH ON FIRE
Another mass murder today.
We don’t have war so we kill each other.
Everyone lives in emotional refugee camps
on all three sides of the river.
Since we are the enemy, we are hard to spot.
(You know how those humans all look alike)
There will be no armistice, no ceasefire
for Christmas, no thirty day leave. No safe zone,
no bunker, safe house, holy spot to hide in.
Everywhere you look you see moles for another
side besides yours. You can’t call them out
because you might be right, and you’re not the
cops. But you could be in the line of fire.
Ronnie M Lane lives in Lake Placid, Florida USA with his wife Judy. His poetry is posted daily and publicly on Facebook.
