A Little Wine (to put you in the idle reverie)

by Darryl Price

Amused yet? It doesn't matter and that doesn't mean
anything. But eternity in hell is just another knife
they use to keep you looking in the wrong 
direction. We can have fun. Please don't let them 
break your heart like that. They do their jobs 
because they no longer believe in small butterflies. Please
don't wait to show up in your light. The
wine tastes just as bitter as you think it 
must. But that doesn't make you any smarter. Please

don't let them defuse you. Please don't let them
make you miss the boat. Please don't let them
push you into a lake. Please don't let them
make you wait some more to feel everything. Please
don't let them determine you. Please don't let them 
put you in a sentence you don't mean. Please 
don't let them turn off your good music. Don't
let them make you a stranger, a shadow. Please
don't let them put you in a wall, a 

well. You are not a brick, stone. Not another 
broken appliance. Wait for me. Don't let them convince 
you. Don't let them deny you. What are you 
doing? I saw the smile upon your face. You 
cannot lie to please me. Don't let them give 
you away. Please don't let them mistake you. Please 
don't let them saw off beauty. Please don't let 
them kill nakedness. Love is worth fighting for. Please
don't ignore the moon's message tonight. Please don't let 

them prove hope wrong. Please don't let them disappear 
dreaming. Who cares? I think you know. Please don't 
let them sit with their mind's eyes closing. Please 
don't let them shoot wild flowers with an elephant 
gun.  Please don't let them not even consider your
pain. Don't let them turn the whole world into 
their personal departure lounge. It's not worth it. Please
remain strong, don't let them ruin your party dress.
Please don't let them pour you all out. Don't  

let them stop you from getting on. Don't let 
them drive you away from yourself forever. Please don't 
let them speak to you like they are reading 
from a book. They don't know you. Please don't 
let them give you the wrong punchline just because 
your confusion is terribly funny to them. I don't 
like them. Never have. Please don't let them own 
your laughter or anything else having to do with 
your throat. It's your voice. Use it to be 

absolutely free. Or as Bob Dylan put it, "Too 
many people have died." Please don't let them get 
you to think about something else, something that doesn't 
matter. Don't let them turn this poem out of 
your memory. Please don't let them get your signature 
on their petition, to fine the sky for falling
ill. Don't let them misunderstand every kind impulse you 
have made and acted upon. They will try. You 
must try harder. Please don't help them hide us. 

Bonus poems:

This Beautiful Lie

by Darryl Price

In Memory of Julie Straub

tells us everything we need to know 
about each other for now. It's a 
whole lot of fun. I didn't say I 
didn't like it though. I did. Jesus, 
my grammar is terrible today. 
This beautiful lie is better than 
the crowd of thoughts that have lately been 
crazily crossing my mind like a 
lovely flowing cacophony of 
wild animals. Hear them roar. I just 
wanted out of this Thanksgiving Day 
maze of poor choices by any means 

necessary. It was quite nice in 
the new beginning because we were 
having a so much fun & adventure 
together, weren't we? But it's become 
more like looking through a window at 
everything there constantly changing 
to the same thing. There goes another 
loose leaf. Chewed up by another wind. 
Should we make a documentary? 
This rough around the edges pretty 
lie is broke on an ordinary 
rock and the look of it suits it just 

fine. You and I have looked better. There 
was a happy you that wouldn't have 
stood for such a betrayal of the 
glorious heights reached. There was a sad 
me that would simply have said no, I 
would be doing this alone. Oh this 
beautiful lie was hard to resist 
at the time and I didn't try. But 
this beautiful lie lied to us all. 
It made our hearts sink as one. I should 
have known better. I should have warned you. 
Because you were my beautiful friend 

who hugged me without words getting in 
the way. This beautiful lie cost us 
our cup of beauty, our goodness and 
what light we ever possessed. This pale 
beautiful lie robbed us blind in broad 
daylight. But it made us laugh. I'll say 
that much for it. I'd do it again. 
It kept us going to an unknown 
destination all through the night and 
into the next day and the next.  The 
dozen or so years of each minute 
on this earth's quickly revolving door.  

Crucial life or death decisions to 
be made for the jolly sake of those 
unfriendly others involved. Then it 
didn't. You were gone. I should have been 
holding your hand in mine like we had 
promised under the wailing guitars 
of the Velvet Underground. Poor Lou.
What about Nico, I can hear you 
say. Where are we going? You've seen it.
Tell me. I just don't know. I didn't 
want to go without you. And now I 
must. Goodbye doesn't even come close.

Am I breaking Down

by Darryl Price

or is it you and your friendly burning log fire 
desire? Love is an incidental stranger waiting with a small 
brown package in the alleyway just off any main street 
in your town. Someone knows what for. Pray it isn't 
you. Love is selling its bottled salvation potion like a 
phoney baloney shaman in a fabulous whipped turban and new 
long harvest wig. Love is making me feel like nothing 
explains anything to my satisfaction anymore. I mean what's going 

on here? Love loves to bring us together. But then 
so many small things happen to tear us apart. There is 
just no way for me to remain a sane sad 
purveyor of the poetic worlds when all there is misunderstands 
everything else that is not. Love sucker punches you in the 
philosophical gut like a low flying bird, loves to see 
you cry, to hear you scream. It might be me. 
I mean I do sort of feel broken, I am 

more alone, here at the end, and I do not really 
like it, but I can stand it. Love is only 
one day to remember. I hate to tell you I 
told you so, but even the beautiful things can get 
squeezed to a plaster used up towel finish. Too sensitive?   
Get down to it then. Love bludgeoned me, ripped me 
up, when I wasn't looking past its delightful storytelling. Dear 
God, I hope I'm not in love with you. Is 

that what this is? An apology? Please forgive me. Misguided? 
Let's try not to make amends. Not now, when we're 
so close to forgetting the whole damned thing. I'm already  
way off course. Me and the leaves will be gone 
before you know it. I collect these poems only because 
I can see them when no one else seems to 
notice they are right there. Sorry about the ranting and raving. 
Forget I said anything. I am happy to see myself out.

 3 short poems by Darryl Price

I Wasn't Sure

I wasn't sure if I should climb
into the red roses either,
but gingerly we went, and the
tiny yellow butterfly flew
high away just as we got there.

We Decided

We decided to take
the secret passageway,
but then Margaret found
a spider and ran home
and told on all of us.

It Was Winter

It was Winter, and all the new snowflakes
were acting like they didn't care about
anyone or anything, as long as
they could fall endlessly together.