(Platter of) Figs and Oranges Set to a Warped Organ Fanfare from Long Ago

 

Lonely kids only want this thing to go away and stay away.

To not be lonely anymore. The lonely, uncool

Kids have learned to be absolutely

Still in the moment. Who does this fall to? They

Haven't read enough Vonnegut for your liking?

David Foster Wallace, perhaps? Remote control

Kids stand around and prepare to leave the

Planet on the first ship out of here. Any room, or every room already taken? Every day these

Isolated kids are devastated even more

By all the silence they must always endure. The sad kids

Die a little more into themselves each night.  Poor little

Lonely kids have never seen a magic dragon, much less a

Poem turn itself into a truthful

Way to live. Let's give them that at least. The

Solitary kids don't know what else 

We're asking of them, as they've already given so much. Look. Lonely

 

Means small crowds of one. And lonely

Means forgotten about, period. Lonely

Means rudely un-awakened for

Some midnight cake fun. These poor kids are not sure if you

Are joking as you speak to them or not. Lonely sits

The borderline between darkness

And cold, cold chills. Lonely means not right

Now, maybe later. Not even maybe later. Sometime. Real soon. They're used

To it. The lonely kids' curse does

Not fit the crime. The little kids do

Suffer in vain. The lonely kids

Are like an empty pocket, a

Broken window; tiny torn pieces of paper,

Taken apart many more times than necessary.  These lonely ones

Can't take much more, I'm telling you. The lonely kids

Act out like squashed upon ants who are still somehow alive in certain squiggly parts of their bodies. They act as     the perfect excuse

 

For adults to go get more good and then get drunk.

An art theft before the painting

Is ever finished or dried. The kids are

Just as soluble in forests

As seas. The lonely kids don't know

One moon on their bedroom walls from

Another. The lonely kids have

Not danced in so many years, if ever, that the concept is nothing more than a foreign country in their heads. Lonely

Means: everything's not okay, ok? But it's fine.

Lonely means, sorry, I can't remember you. Kids

Need to be reactivated

Sometimes. That's where we can come in.

With a few kind words. Working hard as extra

Good listeners. With a plate of warm ripe

Figs and perfect oranges made for the hungry in

Spirit. To honor the life in

 

Every life, we should lift any that needs it. We honor the life

In clouds. We honor the life in

Trees. We honor the life in dirt.

In mountains. In streams. In stones.  We

Honor the life inside words. In thoughts.

In dreams. We honor the life in

Laughter and tears. In the whole of eternity's stars. In busy bees. Birds. And insects of all kinds.

We should honor it, with all our hearts, in people, too.  dp  

Bonus poems:

Lies by Darryl Price

 

You could do it. You could make the  

Bullets take another trajectory. But the world will

Continue to harm innocent animals. Children can understand

The language of flowers. They take it for

 

Granted. That's why they cry over sad things

Oceans away. Their hearts are picking up all

Those signals coming in. Makes them either grow

Up fast or slowly go crazy. But you could do

 

It with them.  You could end all wars forever. Isn't that

Something? It was always you after all. Yes it is amazing.

You could take the perfect photographs. You'll get

The dancer's hand in the end. All you have

 

To do is lay down your own weapons first. Look

Up in anger for the very last time. Have no unbalanced fear.

You won't need to eat where you are

Going. Could you, please, unlock the front doors while you're still

 

In there? Just do it because it's right. Nothing to it for someone like you.

We'll be waiting for your second coming with white

Doves hidden in our shirts. When you do decide

To kick the earth out of its final orbit around the sun

 

Please remember the poems we left for you at your locked

Garden's gate. They contain the names of all

Those we loved more than you. We've given

Up telling all lies, it's the least we can

 

Do after running away with each other's hearts. After all you're the one  making the

Ultimate sacrifice. Well. What are you waiting for? You've

Got our rapt attention now. Turn on your TV set and go to sleep. Our  gathered

Antennas are twitching for your grandest of excuses. Just

 

As we thought. You don't want the job

Either. You ask why we make our homes

In the branches of certain ancient trees. Isn't it obvious?

We want to be the first ones to welcome you home at long last with  unencumbered arms.  dp

 

 

   

The Argument by Darryl Price

Someone has lit the sky again, declaring it a new

Morning yet I walk alone. There are broken pieces everywhere.

A new sky has been flicked on and I've become

A mere green figure captured in its blink. The lapping

 

Of the water has nothing to say. I don't know

Who put that light on again, but they have done

Me a great disservice. I was just about to jump

Into the great mass of endless stars. I was going

 

To let them swallow me up. But now there's some

Sort of new meaning taking place here around me. It has

Birds in it, and cars, and people clustering like flowers

On the branches of streets. It has breezes squirting delicious

 

Smells into every corner. Even the buildings seem to be

Getting ready to stand and stretch their rooftops. It used

To make me feel glad, too. So, someone has taken

It upon themselves to light this thing once more and

 

Here am I pulling a poem out of my hat

For an empty theatre. It's the only thing I know

How to do. I would offer it to you for

Nothing but your hand is nowhere to be found.  Someone

 

Has lit the sky again and I'm sure their intentions

Were noble enough. But those stars were, oh so convincing. The

Arguments were more like songs than bee stings. That's what

You get in the day's wake. Either way I'm simply

 

Not up to the task. My feet are as sad

As the rest of me. Someone lit the sky again

And without even asking if it might disturb a worried

Dreamer like me. Someone lit the sky and I'm beginning to scorch.

 

I'll have to get up and move even if I

Don't want to leave the spot of my disgusted silence

To the ants and butterflies. Here you go then. You get

Your wish. I'm no longer in the shadows trying to

 

Conceal myself from the rest of the world. But

My heart still feels broken. That's all I'm saying. So

To the someone who lit the sky I'm sure that

Took some guts. But I don't envy you your job.

 

Mine is much more personal. It hurts like hell every

Hour I try to do it one more time and

better. Enjoy your gig. I wish you the best of

Luck. From where I'm sitting you're going to need it.  dp