You Can Push Things

 

to the back of your mind like a box of unpacked yet beloved

books if you want, but that's no life I want to explore

any further with you. We don't have as much time as we

once thought, to believe in something other than empty bottles lost in the unpacking of our

dreams. Love is still real even when the mud begins to fizzle

and leap out of its own way. That's all I wanted to

 

say. I don't believe their lies any more now than I did

before I went missing. They want you to spit your love on

the ground, bitter as drugs. To tear the bells out of the

golden dragon infested clouds like a fistful of haywires. To sink the

last of the flower petal boats with heavy rocks. To smash all

singing birds to death against their brick statues. But I don't buy

 

their latest diet wars. Their brand name barrels of bargain smoking guns.

Their greasy gravy jars full of deliciously simmering coiled bombs. Their sick

little insurance run churches of the barbecued nightmares of innocent children. Listen.

Love is always going to be all, even when all else is

floating to the ground burning. That's what I want you to remember, yes I know

you already know it. Not trying to get you to do anything

 

you don't want to do deep down inside. Don't join anything on

my behalf. I don't care.  Just don't be boring. This poem is

where I stand at all times. It's not some silly broken mystery rotting in a forgotten

cave. I live in the same real world as you. And again.

Love is all you need. They want you to turn in your

hopes, but you know better. Love is like the sky, all around, always.

 

Darryl Price     Wednesday,July 02, 2014

Gift Card

Here's a genuine seahorse. It doesn't matter. Here a puffed-out cloud. Meant to float

through your goo. Blue flowers just to brighten the holes poked into your ground.  Look.

This is a poem. It's made up of feelings that stretch all the way to

the moon and back. Just for fun. Watch. There's an

acorn and a leaf and a rabbit and a string of sparrows. They're bold 

when it comes to french fries. I wish they were warmer in winter.  There's a

certain color, let's call it bluish, though it's sometimes tinted red.  You don't have to

weep for a living. There are a million ways to 

sigh if you twinkle. Ah let them laugh. You'll laugh, too, eventually, when the 

time is right. So here is your dog and my cat. Here is an old 

barn full of owls. Here is a sentence half-full of strange, familiar words. It's a 

crazy world. Come on. There's a snail with a whole 

galaxy swirling around on its back. I like pancakes. Wish I could play the 

guitar like Eric Clapton if Eric wasn't such a blues snob. Yes. Some fireworks sound

like rows of farts going off in a scarecrow's pants. Here's a lit-up sailboat. A 

fuzzy little bat. Box turtle. Mostly here's that friendly toy reminder.