youth, the good days and mother nature’s snack

I love a theme so I decided to stick with it and share some old & new poems on youth & mortality & autumn & the devastation of growing older.

Don’t forget a glass of red wine for optimal reading pleasure.

youth

empty liquor bottles and full ashtrays
playing God in the dimly lit
rooms of our parent’s homes.
—youth, so breathtakingly beautiful
and dripping in sorrow;
trickling down my navel,
leaving trails of sweetness
i’ll remember as torture.
searching for love in empty hallways
and blaming future behaviour
on it until my friend tells me
to grow up one night over bitter cocktails
and spiced nuts. it was paradise
and we were sun-kissed
and brutal and clumsy.
putty not yet moulded,
hungry for purpose.

the good days

somewhere along the way i figured out that we don’t
get to plan the good days, they swallow us whole
whether we are prepared for them or not. we stumble
upon each morning balancing on Bambi legs,
cautiously peering over our shoulder at yesterday’s
cruelty, wondering how the two can be so close on the
heels of one another, that the distance between good
and bad can be mere minutes, seconds really. i guess i
figured out that mortality only ever asks for your
existence, and rewards you with sunny days.

mother nature’s snack

this is autumn
—all serpent-tongued and cruel
holding in words
that would slice me up,
watching with trembling hands
as death makes itself known.

let me hold you,
for this is autumn and
we aren’t getting any younger
and i’ve been awake
for 4 days now.

this is autumn and mother nature has forgotten her mercy.