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Hell in a Handbasket

written by: Rochelle Foles

@shellilouwho

 

Coveted and rare
Balmy nights
odd months
Windows and curtains throw privacy
                Out with the baby and the
                 Bath water

 the cool air
Drifting in gentle waves from the west
sprinkled with sea salt
Settling on skin

Breathes life thru the railroad flats
That surround the green oasis
In the midst of
The metropolis

This longed for shift
Settles on the bipeds that surround
The oasis

 

Creatures worn down
By expectations
Rarely their own
Rather obligations
Taken on

Sherpas
Of the mechanisms of
Society

Unconsciously touches them
Saying deep in their nuclei

 

S
L
O
W

T
H
E

P
A
C
E

 

Smell the skunk family
As it releases its defensive/offensive
All pervasive undeniable acrid signature
Into the calm
Observe it with all senses
Seeping thru
Open windows

Reminding humanbots
There is
More to this
Metropolis
Than corner offices
Organic Name Dropping
and
Being seen
There
Wearing
That
With
Them

Run, you two legged fools!

Nature existed eons before your
Pretentious arrival

And will continue to
Evolve
And transmogrify

Long past
The memories of you have died

&

Your architectural penis'
Attempts
To penetrate the firmament
Have crumbled
And become dust
Under foliage

The creatures who truly
Reign
In the moments
Between
The disappearance of blazing oranges, reds, and pinks
Reflected
Over the fluff that lies just there
Out of reach
Beyond the whitecaps

And the
Gentle peek-a-boo
Baby Blue
Rising over rooftops
That surround
The enchanted mystical hunting grounds
Exist
In a duality
Reminiscent of tales of Avalon

Obvious to few
Blind to the majority
Bent
 head to the grindstone

Awaken with the peeping
 of the morning blue
Be open to the magik
And wonder

 live in multiple realities
Walking this plainplane as a healer

Alternatively
Don the sherpa robes
 live in Starbucks oblivion
Contributing
To the madness
The demise
Of all creatures
As you skip toward total annihilation
Wearing your
Second skin yoga pants
your cloned Black Patagonia jackets
 pushing your entitled offspring
around in your Maclaren's

Right down the sidewalk to
Hell.

 

 

Earth time is
F
I
N
I
T
E

Inevitably limited

Embrace the beauty of the mundane

Or live
Your android existence

Access your white/grey matter

Measure

Cognate
(
Act

 

Worms on the sidewalk
After a rain
Have more volition
Than you exhibit

Rochelle Foles

Rochelle Foles

Rochelle began writing at the age of twelve. Encouraged by her local librarian, she cut her poetic teeth on ee cummings, T.S. Eliot, Walt Whitman and Elizabeth Barrett Browning, all of whom continue to influence her writing today.

She is a logophile and her playful attitude towards words can often be seen in her writing through her use of fonts, space, spelling and design.

She considers it a privilege to be read and to be an active contributor to Spillwords.
Rochelle Foles

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