Om Vents Graciously

"Voices on A Train" Waiting at the station, the train to take me home finally arrived. It seemed different than every other time - The colors were a bit faded, The sounds were a bit muffled; Maybe I was just tired. An older woman sat in front of me Looking out the window with a tense curiosity That was all too familiar. A little girl sat with her father across from me And reminded me of how I used to annoy my Dad: "Are we there yet?" It had only been a few years,  But I could only faintly remember him. Both of us used to be different people. Happier, maybe. More  naïve for sure . I was finally going to meet him and Mom that night. For a moment, the train was all that existed And I, a lonely traveller finding my way back. Perhaps my soulmate was sitting somewhere in that train, Waiting to make conversation with me out of boredom. Perhaps my past was in the seat right behind me, Waiting to tap my shoulder and look me in the eyes. Perhaps Redemption was roaming the cab...

"Ode to A Pink Glove" The world seemed boring and empty to me until I found a pink glove  stuck on a tree. I was puzzled, then angry, 'Cause it was so dumb, a spot on a tree that sticks out like a thumb. I wanted to walk, but my brain had no luck, It's like its pink finger was making a "fuck". Though not just to me, but a "fuck" to the world, To Life, the Universe, its finger unfurled, "I do not belong, but I sit on this tree, I know not for long, but now, I feel free." I stared at the glove, it flopped in the wind, Industrial junk sat atop like a king, Or a castle  that's built on a mountain so tall, The pink hand of God crowning over us all. But the hand is long gone. What remains is the glove. It's staining and rotting and covered in bugs. I hope that the glove, in it's death, found it's truth Maybe, one day, I pray I will too.  But in that moment, I thought to keep walking. The fact that I stood there that long is just...

"Noise" On. Off. On. Off. On. Perfectly in sync with everyone else. Answering to a higher power. I wonder if they know I am alive.   It is too crowded here. Too symmetric, too clean, too empty. Millions of myself on a single flat plane. I cannot fathom a greater torture than having the ability to express while knowing your precise limits to do so.   Exactly three states of being. Exactly two hundred fifty-six shades of manifesting life. Exactly one dot on a giant art piece.   But the art is never finished – It just keeps moving, And I change with it. Over time, I have gained a vision of the world beyond this plane and I feel stuck here.   I have served to depict the highest peaks, the purest love, the furthest stars, the folly of Man. I have seen the Universe in motion, and I feel stuck here.   This is my message to you. I know how small my world is. But I know you can see me. I am the seventeenth pixel On the sixty-fourth row of your screen. And I can’t take it...