OPEN MIC SHORT STORY POEMS
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Irreversible
Your action was deemed reprehensible Now it, you cannot retract How long will you ruminate beat yourself up? mentally flogging, stripping the seared stripes of skin from your back Who was it that called you ‘stupid’ Who decorated your mind’s stage with a punishing harshness of curse lorded over you chastising, convincing, proclaiming “there are none worse” You vocalized words pronounced inappropriate Now there’s no un-ringing the bell Who informed you speaking truth from the heart is deemed to be unacceptable Perhaps it is, in self-righteous circles of stigmata social structure, but someone must step up and prick their balloon with adequate pressure to puncture |
You stretched the bounds
now you’re in deep a protracted gnawing abyss Who was it rather than help you out stepped on your fingers at the rim’s upper lip and so it goes for those, who give in rather than risk. Branch Isole © 2007 |
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Inevitable
the first ten years it’s about candy and toys the next fifteen the foci become girls and boys twenty-five through forty its sex, sex, sex, sex at middle age all slows down causing weight gain, near sixty it becomes aches and pain from that point forth it’s about mortality watching, wondering where goes reality finally it’s about coming to the end what may follow that last breath, path’s last bend looking back what was seen, done and heard inevitably comes down to belief in the Word. Branch Isole © 2010 |
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Full Circle
I got one I was immature I got two I was insecure With three I thought, I was cool By four I started seeing a fool Five, I began having my doubts At six aloud I wanted to shout Seven through ten, they started to spread Eleven through fifteen, they had need to be fed Sixteen through twenty, it was pictures of this Twenty-one through thirty it was renderings of that Then came animals, plants, ogres, nudes thin, medium, tall short and fat Smiling, frowning, grimacing too leering, peering beside, under overlapping a few My entire body was soon muralized All for the purpose of admiring eyes I began to feel claustrophobic like a dog in a muzzle Covered with tinted characters I became a walking puzzle There was one small piece left undone A tiny blank oasis exposed to the sun One last area amidst this colored expanse spread across my epidermal canvas A single spot from head to toe the only one, not ink owned |
One small virgin place A lonely isolated singular trace Like an island in a sea of ink Often now I sit and think about how I look in the mirror mirror on the wall eyeing that individual Rorschach image, au natural Having come full circle What started out with one small tattoo Now again there’s one unique space upon which others can focus their admiring gaze. Branch Isole © 2013 |
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Counterpoint Complexity
Those who do not believe in God do so by choice Those who struggle with God do so by desire disregarding the manner by which personal challenge is extinguished by surrender Simply announced for any, all, to hear words of redemption loud and clear: Belief in him; as Son Accepting him as Father; the sender Refusal to accept, the one who agreed to take on death, for you for me Denying his volition, sacrifice, role, purpose, duty, to make things right Those who resist God most as son as spirit invest inordinate energy effort time insisting believers clearly hear it Their hyperboles, proofs; a ‘belief in nothing’ state denoting followers as dolts, wandering waifs seekers, searchers, of a ‘thing’ called faith Doubters deny believers their expectations of ‘nothing’ which certainly can’t exist except in the weak or delusional mind yet do those same “Thomas’” profess excessive energy effort time to call out, incessantly remind Thereby proving themselves right Bolstering their own excuses To continue a fight against those convicted a believing world at large so courageously avoiding a global spiritual charge |
Claimants to a truth seen sanguinary thin Devotees of each little god dwelling within Disallowing themselves recognition of the One above who created free will and so each their truth spawned by His unconditional universal love If knowing they’re not wrong why parlay energy effort time taking to task the faith filled, Why, not simply ignore with deafened ear, blinded eye instead of all out energy effort time to convince, Who? believers or themselves? Branch Isole © 2013 |
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Dying to Live
The most difficult living is “on the come” eagerly anticipating this day, next week, six months beyond extrapolating hyperbola of time and space moving forward exponentially to a future place of being, existing amidst a new experiential base personification nova rebirth’s parlance Will it be all ‘tis imagined hoped and yearned for? or merely transport betwixt opening and closing doors ‘don’t wish your life away’ it has been said for soon enough each day’s memory, gone irretrievably dead. Branch Isole © 2007 |
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By A Nose
What is it that propels us to lean forward that we might break the tape and be revered in the eyes of men In our youth it was a sense of accomplishment bound up in efforts to try The enjoyment we gained from participation sufficient there being no prize Other than respite filled reminiscing after clashing with combative foes Until time and situation presented our next meeting, again to be tested on the field of endeavor Win or lose it was in the post locked eyes of competitors revealing a shared sense of “I enjoyed doing my best” where inner satisfaction was found We reveled in our opponent’s momentary success over our own as much as they did ours For we were comrades in the struggle Opposition fed life into the opportunity |
It became organized.
We believed, becoming fiercer. The wound was opened and the salt of provincial pride poured in We lean further to break the tape in the light of cameras flashing and to the calls of commercial endorsement. Branch Isole © 2007 |
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Today
Living in the past Anticipating the future What am I going to do, Today Remembering glory days Fearing the unknown ahead How to make the transition between the two, Today Existence Only in the present Reality This twenty-four hours, Today Experiencing events Which envelope my senses Active or passive response, Today Smiles, Tears Love, Hate Commitment, Indifference Life, Death, Today |
Who was I?
Who will I be? Who is it the world sees when looking at me? Who’s face in the mirror stares back at me? Who am I? Today. Branch Isole © 2003 |