The stickiness

 The clouds ran out on us
Blue sky back
Sun pounding immediately
Merciless

The early morning storm
Screaming itself hoarse
Big puddles where it crossed land
All silent and sheltered these humans

Now they emerge as if they were never threatened
Humidity slapping faces making them red
they go bouncing and sweating into town
wet patches forming under arms between legs

Heat becomes aggressive itchy and invasive
people seek tree shade and awnings
but the roads and sidewalks feed heatwaves
and overwhelming sizzling breezes

Then they blame each otehr for not having taken showers
for inthe blink of an eye all of them are really smelly

Blessed by the cat

 I held the animal up
spring was full aggressive
people had taken to leisurely afternoons
picnics at those rustic outdoor tables

They clapped and cheered 
As I showed the animal around
It was just yellowish ginger cat
Yet the people loved it

From under shade of evergreens
As the hardwoods still had holes in their canopies
More familes were arriving and dews were drying up
I held up the cat toward the newcomers they beamed

The cat's back legs and front legs extended from lack of support
It's green eyes completely neutral
No sign of struggle just a strange indifference on the cat
This the crowds appreciated even more

Each table impatient to have the cat held up to them
Their halos and auras and expensive summer clothes
inviting and comemorating the strange random event
Each family something whole and vigorous

They squander our treasure

 I walked among tall men
feeling short and inadequate
Yet feeling comfort in my shortness
For the burden went to the biggest

The smallest ignored
Merely using their shadows to escape sun
Or the form of them a wall against weather
humble simple and contented with small

But I was suddenly commanded to walk against them
Weak and unstrategied, fearful and wanting, losing
They baited and intimidated who was I to affront them
My answer came in being thrown to the ground

To feeling their knuckles on my brow
coughing up and stinging from within and without
For they no longer guard our treasure
They squander it all

And on their weary path they pollute and corrupt 
every following generation

The rains will raise the river

 Our lodging is not fifty meters from the river
It keeps raining, I sleep not, taking pains
I rummage for tools as water nears the front door
I will dig a trench I say but the water will not flow away

I will dig you hear but the water will not disappear
I see it now in fright in the dim light clay stained soup like
puddling an inch or more from the glass sliding door
The river is loud no doubt swelling soon to flood us out

I look over at you sleeping as if the world will keep keeping
Wake! Realize! The banks will be burst as sure as the sun will rise
We will be inundated, fated to drown, evacuating to late
Make haste, take suitcases, for this place will be laid to waste

Action is survival
death complacency

One's divine vanity

So busy showing off
One may not see one's own vanity
so busy comparing
Multitudes on the bottom rung
Overlooked badly faring

Vanity soaked in new colors
One hopes will represent the official
That will have honour and place
One's own recognition initially
A shield against conceivable disgrace

That one's own ritual be ordained by trinkets
Of one's own crowd pleasing creation
Enchanted wine blessed chalice drink it
Robes and ritual simulate elation
Sculpt God's own eye and wink it

So busy inside a unique comparison
each lense an aspect of life
Vanity is a forced smile prison
A career, children, husband, wife
Measure up, consensus so implicit

Where are you going with this?

 Sometimes it's poverty
destitute cut off from the sources
Abundance once conjured now a dry creek bed
stained mud yellow

You plan yourself, who you are going to be
weak at the knees, arms drooping
attempting to retrieve that vital energy
Where is that inspiration, creativity that kick that super hot fuel?

Is it just cheap external recognition
is that all it boils down to
Where are you carrying yourself to
What kind of being are you?

Are you a trier an attempter
How's the water, hows the weather
What's it like being just a trier among all of this
just a mission planner and failer ensconced?

where can you go with your ideas
can you desperately achieve something
Are you panicking right now
Can you create another world to run to?

Move people with words
Is this all just a game
Is that how you've framed it
Just an illusion, just an excursion...

Just one big fat nice try!
One nice big patt on the back
By those who've acquired it all already
"You did a good job, but better luck next time."

struggling through like a giraffe
Two minutes after being born
No one to guide you out on the savannah
just afterbirth slippery on the hooves

The unprotected skull

 On a hard rocky earth
God has given these creatures soft skulls
under Hail and meteors
So vulnerable

Our congnitive senses
Focused inside our heads
Such a violent world
Couldn't we be made like steel

accidents and aggression
storms and earthquakes
A poweful sun shining down
Our soft vulnerable heads exposed

We are lifelong babies 
searching for safespaces
when there are none
trying to avoid brain damage

putting on protection and helmets
Building nukes and shelters
singing nursery rhymes 
telling comforting white lies