The Absence of Wavelength

Putting Away Big Meals/Serious

The label ‘too serious’ puzzled me,
engrossed in lonely illusion
without fake cheery gift of smile.

Unfair, because every heart song
informed an isolated one
with tangled, unattuned heart strings.
Music made sense.

Your declarations and perceptions
lacked information I gathered,
like armfuls of printed weather readings —
a collapsing tunnel of statistics
from a prognostic printer fed
inputted information, considered
from all perspectives, nearly
negating the overwhelming tides
splashing a stone gathering lichen —
disease of a tender soul in want
of any who’d admit, it’s okay
to have intense passion — even if,
for the deflectors and rejectors
that held investigated pieces of me
in self-important hands like indignity.

I had to refuse each and every one
who dared forecast the weather of me,
without realizing their ignorant wisdom
force these pressure fronts within,
false navigation, resultant errors
ingested and internalized for life.

Sorry, if I let some serious leak out.
These seasons, containerized,
violent in a pressure cooker.
My steel cage did it’s best
not to tear new holes in scenery —
music soothing the savage breast.

And what right to spoil your party,
as I can’t fake your needed smile,
fear lyric I laugh — not the right way
for those blithe diets of spirits
who’ll rebuff the slight, sour look.

I’ve considered you and your nature.
I’m heading out in my dinghy
to swallow tempests and typhoons.
I’ll be back to writing, after lunch.


10.29.24



It’s nothing new; not like I haven’t heart it since ‘different’ applied.
No one feels obliged to truly consider me?
I’ve worn out the world’s shoe stores with clod feet
Learned to be a beautiful dancer, singer, athlete, lover, poet, but…

I live in the collapsed portions of narcissistic ideate-machinations and thumb-nosed manipulation with ‘put a sock into it’.
I’d like to see you and your army with those shoe sleeves.

You know serious.
Meet tenacious…he won’t sleep until all the fatal mold scrubbed from the graffiti rocks hurled upon my soul harbor.

I withhold a much more intense logic driven poem produced this evening.
All thanks to these late life pro-biotics, learned what it takes to stay healthy, and work.
Eat what I’ve been spoon fed, hear echoing off walls to the calm waters, where I watch horizon clouds form, aim.