Jeff's Poetry

if i could choose one moment. what would it be? a snap shot of colorful moments, the brightest memory of that well traveled road - and it would not be, that mindless hedonistic empty callous chauvinistic glass eyed photograph. the life that everyone wants and that nobody wants. is truly a mystery when it is the nods of approval when gestures

hope. infinite - painting the clouds till the blossoms sprout about. all is fairy, the kinds that whisper of silver hidden deep in the caves, go dig it and the land is a huge cry away: lungs deflated sprouting fear, daisies black and withering in the eye

heat then coldness. the aftermath felt like being stuck too long in the catacombs; i hid beneath the gray oak tree - spellbound when snowflakes began to leak into vision blurry. the coldness became a knife that gripped, clutched a door screaming as hinges scraped raw flesh bleeding. the earthworm wiggled out from moist

stained. corrupted, rejected from a drifter searching for concrete, proof, validity, now and the maker plays not the games of creation, funny though that is how tall the tale is.

there is a tap on the shoulder, there is a green light but the cars are stopping, there is a cross eyed bird giving a middle finger, there is a will power instinct and a rumbling in the stomach, there is a keep grounded while the tiles are burning, there is a meaning behind words if your name starts with z,

lovely gold. promises and more - to cause an abrupt stop. any practical man would ponder. what's the catch? but the doors are firmly latched, you cannot see what is opaque, there is no sound coming from the other end. tight lips that does not pry open and the first step is tentative, the second is confident,

he had a point. fair enough - i said when i inquired about present acts there is always a good reason to side with reason for i could see quite clearly that life had many twist, turns, so much gray weather; i was running out of umbrellas but a gleam in the dark told me of a cure! and what a cure

whose presence i seek not, till the world comes crumbling down - then does the faintest of sound break my spell. and what a spell it was! where untold stories sit on my tongue. they burst forth like a supernova

because i was getting tired you see, the last uphill climb had quite drained me - left me feeling blue, pink, red, black, a tinge of green. the green really got to me. fainting spells and a whoosh in my stomach: a doubled over then saw a hand offering to pull me out of that pit.

today i was rushed - by a flock of kids running with chirps like a thousand birds; their laughter keen, contagious, candid and it felt like a snow flake in a sea of murky, gray, sliding slippery surface brittle. the plastic faces of the many adults with careful hellos, tight voices, wariness from a bombardment of every day nuances, of topsy turvy: trying to make sense it would appear