CONFUSION

My thoughts are turmoil,

their land too vast,

on my contrasted views,

a shadow has been cast.

They groan and they wriggle

under a happy pretense.

They're both for and against me

and neither relents.

I must write up a treaty 

and intervene now,

but they are me, and they don't know how.

The voices grow louder,

my body is weak,

their blood, warm and salty

Runs down my cheek.

CM 1983

Rage-whoa. SOMEBODY is grouchy!

Seething slowly, steadily

growing from the inside, out.

Bubbling, boiling, ever-toiling,

to bring what's in, without.

Trembling from the pressure

about to explode,

tongue is all twisted,

can't empty the load.

It will eat you physically,

you will see

Unless you employ

Primal Scream therapy.

CM 1984

In the Dark

Said the parrot to her keeper from inside the gilded cage

"there is not any bird that is happier than me. I sweeten the silence,  I brighten your home, I ask for little, and I'd never roam.

I am safe. I am happy. I say what I mean."

And so she did, that parrot or so she thought-not even knowing for what price she was bought.  A week passed, then two, and all hell broke loose. Crying and flailing 'til her energy was spent, beating on the bars she exuded discontent.  Said she in reply to the keeper's curious glare "I am only a parrot, not that you care, I sing stupid songs and I am a bore--you bought me, you bought me, just for decor! Tell me I'm wrong and stop my cry, but whatever you say, I know it's a lie!"

The keeper smiled sadly and covered her cage. "Every four weeks she goes into a rage. Silly bird, I'd just as soon take her back, but you can't return items from the sale rack. She really can be lovely, but she's got a nasty bark."

And he turned out the lights, so she cried in the dark.

C.M. 1984

Drudgery

No oxygen reaches the top.

They are dying so quickly, what will I do,

when it's time to harvest the crop?

"There is nothing there" says my empty voice,

"You ordered that function to stop."

"Listen, listen!" Cries my aching head,

"We have no brain cells, they're all dead!"

I shall mourn their passing

and say a prayer

that one asexual

is left up there.

CM 6/86

MESSY

We sit on a chair

wrenching our necks

to watch the days gone past

not noticing the

tip

tip

tipping of the 

chair.

CRASH

2/87 cm

REALITY

Permanence defies ecstasy

As memories do, reality.

The twisted gray figures

of yesterday, take on brilliance

as repetition ever escalates

the joy that might have been.

While the vivid here and now becomes a blur

in a mind unable to focus between what

was and what shall someday be.

Imagery is reality;

as are the dishes in the sink.

3/87

Hobbled

I accepted my hobbles along with pretty words

and a promise never

to think again.

A dream of placid non-threatening existence devours me

as I attempt to establish 

a self.

I accepted these handcuffs with a trembling innocence

believing that the road

of no choices was paved.

The truth shows a swamp

not a road.

The mosquitoes are thick

and I'm sinking.

CM-1990