There’s this feeling that’s just so nearly…

Like the battered and the bruised.

I wonder if I heard clearly.

Deep down, I’m just confused.

There’s a man who’s screaming something.

In the face of that sad clown.

There’s a juggler in the spotlight.

That didn’t use the right pronoun.

The siamese twins grow tired.

Two heads can not agree.

Cooperation is required.

No discernments they can see.

The wives they seem so angry.

The husbands have that look.

Doesn’t much matter which way I go.

Either way, I’m on the hook.

And the men

The movie has no soundtrack.

That was playing in my head.

The theme was for the living.

The plot was for the dead.

It’s a story of hereafter.

Like the myths a child’s told.

Equal portions tears and laughter.

You get the girl but not the gold.

There was something in the water.

Not icecubes or alcohol.

Was something in the air last night.

Felt like Rome before the fall.

There were whispers in the shadows.

And fear upon the vine.

I checked the beach for trespass.

Was just you that crossed the line.

The stars were out in fury.

Burning bright in yonder sky.

I had so much to tell you once.

That time has passed us by.

My mother told me repeatedly that if I didn’t have anything good to say about someone, then it’s best to say nothing.

This is also the same person who said about a couple that she didn’t particularly like: “It’s a good thing they married each other… because it would be a shame to ruin 2 homes with them!”

They said if I stared long enough into that haunting dark abyss.

That I could break the darkness and see light, I couldn’t miss.

You see, I have this peace of mind, and when I close my eyes.

I’ve made friends with the darkness; to my horror and surprise!

She said she took the measure. But it came a little short.

It sounded much like confidence. Without the backing or support.

You know I had the warning. It was right there on my tongue.

But she wasn’t much on listening. So, no words were spoke or sung.

I was in the mood for silence . You could say all words were moot.

And she had that look in her eyes. If she had a gun, she’d shoot.

Sometimes, it’s just easier to turn and walk away.

To be the bigger person and get to live another day.

They get lost in the city…

You see them mumbling; usually to themselves. They have lost everyone. None are left to listen to the complaints! The lost are the lonely…

The despair is written in the lines of their faces. Their addiction is in their voices. “Can ya spare some change?”

My guess is that they didn’t fit in where they came from either. Driven from the nest by the stronger siblings.

So seldom do they hear any words of encouragement. Maybe never…

I’ve been listening to the masses.

They be trying to bring me down.

I’ve been taking master classes.

Ever since the blues dropped into town.

They are talking about oppression.

Like, it’s shiny and brand new.

So much horror in that lesson.

That ironic cake to chew.

They are raging, eyes are blurry.

Tears they fall like April rain.

Going nowhere in such a hurry.

Like they just discovered pain.

I’ve been looking for a chorus. That won’t break us into songs. Maybe something just to bore us. Take our rights back from the wrongs…

I watched her rise and fall over our sleepy little town. That dead rock in the sky, that shines over us all… Who knows the secrets here? Where? Where everyone pretends that nothing happens.

The warm salt waters of the Gulf Stream flow north from Mexico, along the eastern continental shelf, passed Cape Breton and beyond. Cold arctic air sweeps down over frozen tundra and bristles raised hairs on hunched backs, along Labrador and into the Northumberland Strait. Where these 2 meet is a spit of land that rises out of the Atlantic, just north of New York City, and is formerly known as New Scotland. It’s because of this; the north winds and the south currents that the conversations here are usually always about the weather…

To an outsider, it would appear as if nothing else goes on here but the weather. However, appearances are deceiving. Nothing is as it seems…

Reminds me of the old joke… A man from the city asks a fisherman, “What do you do around here for excitement.”

The fisherman smiles, ” In the summertime we fish and we fuck. In the winter, we don’t fish. “

I’ve been patient with understanding…

And all things that I don’t know.

They piled up and not withstanding…

Except those marks from letting go.

We were holding onto dear life.

Confused like children in a war.

Lack the words for clear expression.

Peace and love were not in store.

There is something in the shadows.

Dare take a look? Oh, just a peek!

There’s something Holy in the answers.

When the strong protects the weak.

Dennis Mantin