A Shocking Fall

“Shock me…” he says, “make me feel better! Or, worse. Or, whatever. Just shock me… ” His eyes are huge. His puffy lips chapped. His left hand trembles around a rock that calls my name.

We have no power in the boondocks. And feisty eels are out of season during the Witching Hour. “I vowed to make you happy, love,” I tell him, slapping him once and kissing him thrice.

lightning quick,
summer smacks winter—
shocking fall

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Process Note: I can rarely resist Mama Zen’s poetry prompts. And when I read the spunkitude of her last prompt, I knew I was a goner. I mean, how can you say no to “Shock me… make me feel better! Or, worse. Or, whatever. Just shock me… in 77 words” or fewer? I know, I know, you just can’t. So I snatched her words and had my way with them… hoping to shock her a bit. 😉

linked to the imaginary Garden with Real Toads (Words Count with Mama Zen)
and
to dVerse (Open Link Night)

Eye Elements, Lightning by Rick Sandoval“Eye Elements, Lightning” by Rick Sandoval
via

On the Wheel of Living and Dying

Another year’s swallowing its own tail,
riding helter-skelter on the Wheel
of living and dying and living again…

getting me from dizzy to sozzled
on the juices of Chaos’ other brother—
you know him,
he’s the calm-camouflaged Catastrophe
fed by society to all its accepting
self-blinded souls.

.
In spring, I lived content
between happiness and heartache,
soaring over a precipice of brilliance,
thinking, Not my drama.

.
Then came July’s heat
to sweat a lioness’ dying tears
over a world that screamed,
“Murder-death-kill!”

I waited for the ebb and flow of the status quo
to trip into an endless downward spiral,
where it would choke in stark, tumultuous grief.

But nothing ever changes—Chaos reigns
when we fight the fog while stuck in place.

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So I sat through the fall…
existing
on naps, snacks and blogs…
muttering
of sweet blood denied,
of poverty-driven chaos,
of fuckin’ hard goings…

.
Winter slapped me like a sickness—
a pandemic of empowerment and changes
shouting into my skull, “Take control ruthlessly.
Misery doesn’t need more friends. Escape
clouds of barely submerged apprehension.
Tongue kiss enlightenment. Reclaim your belief
in dirt, in Faerie, in the resurgence of love, in Self!
Devour this creative boost.”

.
I am reclaiming my all.

I kissed Gaia with spirit, flesh and bone,
felt my old doors opening,
welcomed the rebirth of inspiration;

I met the eyes of the infant Wheel,
watched them open… open again,
glimpsing the spring of a new me.

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Process Note: yesterday, I asked friends on Facebook to share 3-word phrases that described their 2015. This is the word-baby conceived by their descriptive trios and birthed by my Muse. Many of the phrases made it into the poem intact, a few were tweaked a bit, some became one with threesomes that held similar meanings. Writing “On the Wheel of Living and Dying” was a gift to me. I hope reading it feels the same to you. Fly towards happy. Kiss daring on the mouth. Be true to flesh, spirit and bone. Be your very best self, my Luvs.

linked to Poets United, Poetry Pantry 284

Rebirth, by Delawer-OmarRebirth”, by Delawer-Omar