Calling All Feathers, Do You Hear

 

These little things, they are the hopes

We were waiting for, they are everywhere.

I made this one just for you.

Call them feathers. Call them roses. You'll always

 

See them if you need them. These

Little things carry the good news that

Started a long time ago. Call it

Stardust. Call it sunshine. You'll

 

Feel them if you believe in your heart

Little things have not faded away. Little things

Are there, in the mornings. Sometimes hanging

From the stars from night. You can't

 

Expect living lights not to have a playful

Nature about them. Call It rain. Call it breathing.

Call it walking with a golden key. When

People kiss on purpose it can knock

 

Your socks off.  Little things have incredible

Authority. Little things remind us to listen and

To live. Little things are holy beings,

Don't you think? Call it free. Call

  

It a glowing smile against the utter darkness. 

It's a familiar song, a familiar hunger even

In the soul of your central humanity

System telling you to wake up once more, more

 

Than your ever after body wants. Called being

Inside out. Call it a sisterhood with the

Earth. Call it divine, but only if

You deliver the humor without judgement or

 

Horror. These little things are never suicide

Notes, but prizes you open with your

Mind's window locks. Wide around you.  Sunset. Moon

rise. Can you believe our luck? Good. Quick. Come look.

Bonus poems:

Puppet by Darryl Price

 

That monster underneath the bed

Is no dancing dog. I wish you

Could feel something, other than your

Darkness or mine. We're all bored with

 

The same frustrations. No heaven

For the rat in the maze. All these

Years spent believing are now a

Soft memory of doomed love. Thing

 

Under the bed gives dreamers a

False sense of the landscape to come.

The creeping musk under the bed

Is no prophet telling you to

 

Let your wife go home to her own 

Salt, licking the walls clean of your gone

Presence, but a shadow put there

By your own selfishness and

 

Pretending to be asleep. The

Monster under the bed is no

Apologist, he might be a

Bomb threat, but not to your person,

But on your tendency to want

Someone else to not bullshit you. The

Tripped claw underneath the bed is

In your head, always has been, but

 

That doesn't mean it won't bite you.

Mirror under the bed, the heaped

Dust around it, reveals itself

In slow motion, over time and

 

By years to be less scary than

Utterly pathetic; something

Unwashed, never unexpected. 

A Mess that lies lost in all single socks.

Birds and Beasts by Darryl Price(an early draft)

 

The world has gone crazy, but please let me make you

One of my songs. You can eat it, if you want.

It tastes better when it's fresh, but you can also take

It with you on long journeys. The world has gone crazy,

 

But not everyone has turned into a gun.  The world has

Gone crazy, but the gardeners have not been wiped completely out

Of our heads. They are still there, planning beauty and sustenance

With every whistle. The birds and the beasts may run from

 

Our fires, but they still crave a tender touch. The world

Has gone crazy, but it's not the first time. The world

Has gone crazy, but we have not forgotten them. They were

Children once before the adults experimented on their innocence.  The world

 

Has gone crazy, and we must forgive them for that horror,

But we won't join them on their march. World's gone crazy,

But the sky is as on our side as it can

Be, diluting the pollution with its own toils, painting the warnings

 

On a canvas of stars like always, with exuberance and sometimes

Heart-rending beauty. If you bend down and watch the semaphores of

The tiniest butterflies, you will see that they are saying that

Home is eventually in every direction. The world has gone crazy,

 

But there is a way to remain sane, if not safe,

And that is up to each one of us to decide.

It's not a trick, it's a choice, it's a living prayer

And an act, but it cannot be coerced, only given, only

 

Received and passed on. Bless everyone you meet, but be prepared

To defend each blade of grass beneath your feet. The world

Has gone crazy, but we cannot go with it. You'd be

Surprised how much a merry tune in the middle of the

 

Fight can prevent further bloodshed. If you can't hear one, make

One up. The world has gone crazy and I don't want

To pretend this doesn't make me sad, but not so sad

That I no longer care. The world has gone crazy, but

 

There are little blue flowers pushing their soft faces against the

Protective plastic shields of modern living and struggling to make a

Gurgle of their own. My guess is they have something important

To say. I want to listen. I will be listening for

 

As long as I can. We don't have to drink the

Spouting-off hatred. Turn it off. Pour it out. Knock it out

Of the hands of your friends and family. The world has

Gone crazy, but we're still here if we keep

 

Our love alive in everyone everywhere. That is the hope. Yeah,

It's a pretty big concert to give. We'd better get started.

Remember I made this one up for you out of nothing

More than a friendship on paper, but it's worth more folding. dp