PDF

Sea Bubbles


by Darryl Price



"I don't know why you say good-bye, I say hello."--The Beatles

 

Things fall from the clouds. Things fall from the

floor. Maybe through, maybe all the way.

Everyone argues for their homeland.

Someday I'd like to hold your hand. I'm

still dreaming. I hope it continues

to rain today. Things fall sideways. Things

might fall through other things. How far is

this far? Am I supposed to care; just

not care? Someday I'd like to walk with

you by the water. It's a simple

request thing. We don't speak, shouldn't have

to say anything meaningful or

too deep. Things fall over a cliff. Things

fall on a forest floor. Coral falls

in a sea bubble. Waves fall into

nothing, more and more. But the world wakes

up every day. Beaches come alive.

The streets get smeared with people and cats.

Over and over. Things fall from the

Laughing crying skies. Things fall from the

children's sleepy eyes. Voices rise and

fall like birds. Someday I'd like to smell

your hair blowing soft against my face. dp 



Bonus poem:



The Audience in the Trees by Darryl Price

 

There's no music in my head right now, a little sadness, but I own it.

I don't know why some people want to write their own lousy story lines over

yours, especially when you are only being a silly guy, an idiot guy, who is

trying very hard, dancing on the hard linoleum floor of doom all by himself, to

come up with something clever to say and new to act out for the lonely

 

distracted girl behind the glass counter. Behind the water crushing wheel. Behind the ice cream

mirror. Behind the disappearing walls and floors. Behind the inevitable toll booth. Behind your rising

swinging carriage hanging on by a single fragile cable of faith in daring acts of

flying over the heads of unaware peoples without a pair of genuine leather bat wings.  

Most of the time we are little more than raving baboons making no sense at

 

all to the audience in the trees. I've been on the other side; wanting very

much to put my arm around the poor guy's shaking shoulders and say calmly, loudly,

come with me if you want to live. The girl's seen it all before any

way. She could probably translate the mangled message, the actual obvious missteps into something more

normal sounding, but why try, it's all so predictable and boring. She doesn't want to

 

misuse her power exactly, she didn't ask for it, she doesn't really care, she just

wants to know how to turn the damned thing off and on. And be free,

of course, to control the switch any time she chooses. I hope they never make

me a king. Well, I wouldn't want the job any way, but I'm pretty sure

I would suck at it because that's pretty much the job describing itself. Better to

 

be free to walk away. Say you've seen a thing or two. But you refused

damnation on anybody else's terms. Death seems like a pretty, misunderstood concept. It doesn't matter

what philosophy you challenge it with. It only matters that you see it. Then you

may have a chance at some real life outside of the zombie zone. You think

I make these poems to impress you, but they are to step to,  my way.  




Extra bonus:



Our Beautiful Moments by Darryl Price

 

There's no telling where you'll fly off to, it doesn't take

A tragic robot arm to detach itself before you hit the

Ground running. You've already made the decision to fly whenever the

Chance presents itself. Don't blame it on the cables in your

 

Head. Not this time. I just wish you could feel something

That's not being fed to you through a tube. Take it

Any way you want. I wish someone would take all these

Lies and burn them to the ground. I'd prefer that to

 

A life of silly putty parties. They're only copying the cartoons

Backwards. Listen and you'll see we only want to share what

We are already sharing with you. It's not complicated unless you

Read it that way. Like I said I find it amazing

 

That you've already buried your walking shoes in the ground. I'm

Not here to talk you out of anything. Or into anything.

It's not a tragic tour, it's a laugh, you and your

lawyers all convening in your fears and hatred like little kids

 

hiding behind a burning bush. And what is it that you

want? Simplify the answer. Again. Again. Again. Sooner or later you've

got to admit you're just as lonely and mystified as the

rest of us. Don't worry. I'm getting there. It's just hard

 

to get past your petty cruelty to the tasty poetry in

the middle. But we do it. And we are beautiful doing

it. We've had our beautiful moments. This tells us everything we

need to know about the nature of the pendulum. As long

 

 

as we're here we'll keep on making it happen. It can't

all be perfect mistakes. Sometimes that's just dumb luck. Something you

wouldn't take in even if it were one of those kittens

you always cry over. Man, I thought you were better than

 

that. You know you've proven them, right? Every sick thing that

they tell themselves to justify the violence on the street. Why

do you think they keep so many sharpened knives dripping shadows?

Like hideous shower curtains of many night-mares?  It's not because they

 

don't know how to take pictures of loved ones. It's because

they don't know how to love. Period. And now you've had

your ticket punched to the paranoid side of paradise. Jesus, it

just makes me sick. Enough to write you this smiling note.



Endcap