Your Bones Will Know Them

Chimera Poetry

abstract-bones thomas c fedro

Smile smile
let it be your umbrella
be controlled be pleasing
and if it hurts, take this pill and you will feel better
you WILL feel better
even if your nerves are raw and scraped
and creeping all over the top of your skin
and the looks you will get in the grocery store are the only thing that keep you from
that and fear
knowing that, once begun, you may not be able to stop
take this pill
and this one and this one
and ignore the silly notion of piecing a broken spirit back together
its not
to talk about really…
stop stop shred that scarf they have muffled your mouth with
let that patronizing stifling cloak slip from your shoulders
wrench the knots kick it aside
heed the words of an unmistakable voice
and listen to the grief inside your bones
give it credence

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About chimerapoet

I write. I write a lot. A. LOT. There are times I am half blind with a sentence ricocheting off the walls of my stupid, cant be shut off to save my life, brain. I am miserable until I get it down on paper. Punch it up a bit. Usually cross out half of it. And then breathe. Relax. Only to do it all again..... But I just thought that was me. How I am. Not a writer....noooo...not me. Writers are.....writing people. People Who Write. REALLY write. Write things that matter. All grown up very important things. I am just a scribbler of sorts. And I was/am content with that....if it's true, well then....a scribbler am I. Until the thought wormed its way in to my brain (the furtive sneaky bitch) that maybe...just maybe...that is writing. My style. My strange way. But....still writing. So here I am at the dance. Not sure I know any of the moves and the music is entirely mine. But.....only one way to find out. Would you care to join me?
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