
The only place where you can dream
Living here is not what it seems
--Iron Maiden, Strange World I just want to walk right out of this world 'cause everybody has a poison heart. --The Ramones
At the back of the beginning
Beginning of the end
End of the day when the citizens stopped
Stopped being able to say “let’s pretend.”
Pretend that tomorrow will just begin new.
New novel styles sweep us into the now.
Now everything we built lies covered in ashes.
Ashes of things that now seem unimportant somehow.
Somehow we must realize before it’s too late
Late grows the hour and we need to stop doing
Doing nothing but step upon those who are lacking.
Lacking understanding will lead us to ruin.
~ornery owl~
90 Words
prompts
Ornery Owl Sez: This Bop is a Bit Bleak.
If you prefer to avoid morose verse, you have been warned.
As a child, I could look forward to the third Thursday in
November
Being a time to refresh and connect, a day of quiet,
untroubled play
In the home where I lived during the year that everything was almost perfect
Except for the ferocious bullying I endured at school, but so it goes
There may have been a fire burning bright in the fireplace
When we sat down at the table, I was truly thankful
For whom the bell tolls, time marches on
In current times I've found that everything has changed
Time does not crawl, it hurtles forth like a bullet train
Crushing my memories beneath its merciless wheels
It took loved ones and ideas from me without a backward glance
There is no doorway through which I can return to that year of perfect holidays
But if I could find a filament of the hopefulness I felt
Perhaps I could sew patches over the holes in my heart
Maybe I could recall the feeling of the third Thursday in November
For whom the bell tolls, time marches on
I sit staring out the window wondering who I think I'm fooling
For decades now Thanksgiving has only been a harried mess
We usually don't even celebrate it on Thursday if we bother with it at all
It's just a day when the stores won't be open if I need something
My father believed in the promise of Thanksgiving
But he has been gone now for eleven years
For whom the bell tolls, time marches on
~ornery owl~
prompts