flicker
fire
flame
sky
swoon
sea
ice
cold
snow
wine
warm
we
hot
here
heaven
you
yes
yea
no
less
us
two
one
three.
© 2015 threegoodwords
:blank:
grasping, grasping
but there’s nothing
not even thin air
you can write about thin air
high up in the himalayas
the crisp cold shackling all
the masks needed
simply to survive
to where earth touches sky
so no, not even thin air
not that at all.
nothing, really
emptiness
words, words
where are the words
that form, congeal
to one sentence
one phrase
that one moment
vowel, consonant
that opens doors
to new spaces
new ways
to live, be, see, perceive…
but what are lists to this
out and out grey
where silence doesn’t live
but holds all reigns
to sensation, reason…
though it may be
just a matter of timidity,
the smaller brother to that
icy little feeling, cowardice
for how spell out everything
and break through that wall
that holds everything in,
that hesitates, just when
the words want to be written
no, it won’t do at all.
© 2015 threegoodwords
à la carte
 
 
eating fire
divine
made of secrets
known twice
during meetings
met thrice
at tables hidden
plates steaming
filling souls with light
a glance
a nod
a smile
words praising
this light in darkness
lifted softly
to scents awaited
loveliness
filling one’s plate
heartfelt thanks
sung with crimson
held in goblets
with plates swept clean
and souls filled to the brim
with true and real delight –
Merci.
© 2015 threegoodwords
sum total
that sad laughter
shock in their eyes
that silence that asks
where are you?
where did you go?
that person
we once used to know?
that moment
of cold understanding
a stranger in your own home
speaking in a voice still known
cracking tired jokes
stealing away for another smoke
yet there’s still hope
that it’s all a really bad hoax
a stupid prank, a circus trick gone wrong.
only it’s not
it’s happening
too real, too clear
the scuttling despair
stunned, confused
indignant, silenced
by so much tranquility
all without special effects,
sudden hates, or hollywood flare.
of lives kept whole
through trials, tribulations
by effort, hard work
perseverance, devotion
and that little bothersome pea
piled deep under a comforting surface
that unrelenting pebble: decency,
the artist formerly known as morals.
but these are all unknown words
to the fugitive at the gates
searching for hasty rest
in nests and labyrinths
of snippets and illusions
of a life once spent
in anger and blissful contentment
which the patient forebearing eyes
start to suspect
was never the actual truth
but something close
interwoven with delusions and lies.
and yet, the shock, the surprise
that fortunes could be so drastic
so completely opposite
to everything hoped for, expected
but all eyes remain dry
some calamities are obvious
rising, growing, ominous
like darkness towering in the skies.
as to the moral of the shambles
of the hastily-told story:
it sneaks up on you, life.
it just happens
and suddenly, almost abruptly
a quarter of a hundred’s over
and the happy would-be wasp,
all flash and excitement,
knew not how
while the boring bees
went ahead and led
quiet industrious lives
buzzing away in their prosperous hives
bothering no one
generous with their produce
(what sweetness, what honey
what gold!)
seeing studiously to themselves and their own.
so make sure your life’s truly your own
and not borrowed, dictated,
delusional or loaned;
we are all bees of the same stock
human, from foot to forelock
(which needs no tugging, mind you)
we’re all working away
building, expressing
making, creating
with our personal pollen
in our private honeycombs
filling the expanse
hand to mouth, ear to heart, earth to sky
all that will combine, comprise
the sum total of our lives.
© 2015 threegoodwords
wild at heart
plugs in, player on
here I am, hearing a song
that sounds innocent
but would be rated R
celebrating consumption
of substances that have
no legal function
as it so sleekly does
and yet it’s not the lyrics
not the text itself, not what is sung
but the beat
the bass,
the melody
that brings me back
way back
back to those days when
we used to party hard
dance and sweat and dance some more
lights flashing
beats pumping
amps crackling
volume sky high
you heard the beat with your body
and felt the music with your heart
…
there was nothing but the music
coz rhythm was a dancer
and you had to let the music
push the feeling on
and those were just the popular ones
but we went deep down
into the sheds, the areas, the hidden bunkers
where the world was dark and light
filled with sick beats
intercepted with unbelievable strains
of perfect melodies
oh that drive
that drive to celebrate life
that’s what it does
this song that’s great
and kind o’ just wrong
it takes me back to that time
when you and me and all the others
danced in the dark
until we had to stop
we were simply exhausted
and so walked out
mildly shocked
to see the sun was out
and those other people
were actually living their lives
being offensively boring adults.
A sigh and a smile to that freedom
I can’t even describe
the joy, the exuberance
of celebrating that one thing
that would never stay forever
loving every second under the sun
needing nothing more than great music
to love our young lives
we were so achingly wild at heart.
© 2015 threegoodwords
three good words 