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
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.
- Grandad’s Arms - June 19, 2020
- Consumed - April 18, 2019
- Spotlight On Writers – Rochelle Foles - March 2, 2019
