You show me
More
When only my energy
Flows
Through you
Black Mirror
I see
What others can’t show
I hear
What others can’t speak
I feel
What others can’t touch
Breath in
Breath out
People are just people
Living
Fallacies way away
From
Me and mine
But I can
Will
Explore them
And
Not mistake them
As
Mine
Copyright © 2020 by John David Higham: All Rights Reserved
Photo: Self-Portrait (April, 2020)
will u b my 4ever blue sky
of endless possibilities
punctuated by wispy clouds
of transient doubt
?
will u hear w/me
ghosts crying nightly
mere memories
not prophesies
?
as 2being1
will u speak truths
only us2 will hear
in our souls
?
will u come& go
with me
neither leader
nor follower
?
will u blossom
as i bloom
wither
as i falter
?
will u b my4ever
sun
my4ever
moon
my4ever
stars
?
“yes,” we said
the Word
resonating
in our4ever
soul
.
copyright, 2020: all rights reserved
photo: my4ever blue sky (January, 2020)
steel shiny
rubber rolling
windshield worlds
click, click, click
of my smartphone
driving@102fps
hotel suites
staff know my name
packed lunches dinners
complimentary breakfasts
then suit-up time
buttoned-down or t-shirted
(superman had his cape: ive got my blazer) and jeans
this psychologist’s uniform
preparing to understand
kids yelling punching soiling @102fps
parents struggling denying
enabling offending
another deep deep plunge
back into the infinite flow
of young faces hiding
tortured souls and secrets
finding dna of their pain
“abused”
“neglected”
“in placement”
“rights terminated”
are never just words
bandied about
so many violated kids
i gotta gotta know
102 feet per second
day in
day out
barely keeping up
“depraved”
“heartbreaking”
“tragic”
all those realities apply
lived their prisons
felt their rages
knew their numbness
storms before my calm
lived decades before
lived lives ago
lived PTSD life
always fighting
always dying
rising up again
until no1Left2fight
but me
being part of their journeys
starting their evolutions
of making mountains into
pebbles on their paths
helping them find miracles
when the evals all done
it’s never barely mentioned
each a stranger again
afterwards i
slip off the sport coat
slip into the car
meditate and
send out healing
as i heal@102fps
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: untitled windshield landscape (Trout Run, PA)
become the dust
flow through my pores
soak into my blood
alter my dna
my eyes materialize
within your darkest night
paired sunrises or sunsets
only you know which
in each passing moment
touch what you will
you will touch me
we two mingling in breezes
cascading before the sun
in our rainbow
only others can see
only we can feel…
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: SunSetsoon (January, 2020)
words that cut
sharpened by truth
turn no deaf ears
in this morning’s light
warned by The Universe
to give us this day
its Daily Bread
i shall go armed
only with insight
carried on wings
of outlaw truth
singleness of purpose
battling injustices
profound and profane
under building storm clouds
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: Morning Reading. (January, 2020)
snow turned winter brown2white
muffled sounds of goodyears ‘gainst pavement
as i sped along backroads
fetch erranding LoverWife’s parcel
didKnot feel like dyin2day
instead found a song
4 inspiration 2 write
another feature screenplay
&
wrote a poem ’bout pTsD
watched TV and a film
with LW
five weeks until Sedona
flying A321@PHL2PHX
smiles (of course)
who cant be happy
@30k ft (tell me, tell me)
2easy2ache4others pain
no: bSelfish2day
had2holdMEtight in life’s embrace
so much life2day
so much beauty2day
hell around isKnotting others
fingertrap and gordian
tying us all down
when 4getting
we doKnot feel
like dyinInside2day
live2love2unravelKnots
peaceB2U
loveB2U
slipKnots
&UBfree
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: squallB4passing (January 2020)
the President said
kill the General
the People said
kill the President
as Australia burns
and the Senate churns
whose sins did Epstein die4
as blue screens invade our space
and damage our brains
i cant remember what i thought
must have been important once upon a Time in hollywood
enough for Weinstein’s perp walker (from coast2coast, his SexCrimes are the most!)
i got #metoo’d at 18
my rapist guy now Life Coach
in Big apple (mick and his boys sang ’bout being shatter’d)
shadoobied all upside and down with razor to my being
no perps had walkers back in the good Olde day
’cause guys only get raped in prison or in war
but i ain’t killed no General (so what’s that all about?)
& aint done no crime
but doin’ all this time
just a blue screen poet
watching the world die
eternally optimistic
trippin’ on whatever wherever (cause drugs are so-o-o Seventies and pot gives me legalized munchies)
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: good morning poet (January 2020)
what my eyes see
and my soul feels
my lips are not allowed to say
it’s within my viscera
birth to death
and everything in between
my skin feels pain, bliss
oh so fucking sweet bliss
how i wish all of it were mine
instead of the soul’s orgasms
reverberating through my fascia
and bullets ripping through crowds
i see and hear them too
never soon enough
for the corporeal world
so many times i am those dying
many times i am those dead
psychic, intuitive, empathic
clairvoyant all just mere
empty aproximations
of Heaven and Hell
come to me at random moments
between you and i
fuck
fuck
fuck
intruding with butterfly force
or a brick disolving into sand
scattered by the breaths
of Angels swirling ’round
i know not why this vision shit
foists itself upon me and not foolish enough to fathom
i deserve any answer
to this asshole’s query
as to why instead
content i am only
to always know my role
as this Earth place melts
and mankind continues
feeding, feeding, feeding
upon itself
i, the fool
crossed with the magician
remaining optomistic
even in the world’s darkest nights
that only my eyes can fathom
copyright 2020: all rights reserved
photo: Fool & Earth & Magician (January 2020)
stood at my desk dancing with muses
this day two days ‘fore Christmas
making a present to send out to you
letters and words and stanzas and shit
all swirlin’ ’round my mind
dancing with horses
the p-p-power of words
transcending race, culture, and fear
these words we have right now
as I send them out
as your eyes see them
they either pass through your awareness
or hang in your consciousness
could be either or both
i can only guess
will they be like a stone mountain
or just scattering dust
will it matter that they don’t matter
beyond being a pebble on my path
or even yours
so far away from poetry when I started writing today
so removed from connecting our souls
though only if you’ll have my words and me
as waking worlds have required my foci
now evolution pulls gently at my soul
and I write because I must
in order to live and thrive
making my way back to BuzzPoTree
getting high on expression
come join me now
come know our mutual bliss
copyright 2019: all rights reserved
photo: Create, Create, Create (July 2016)
Miles to go before I can pause
My companion the road holds me safely in its embrace
Asphalt lover unwinding beneath my tires
How I love to be grounded and rolling
LuvB2URoad
Where all is possible in your flowing lanes
Where adventure and possibility are waiting
Where miles evaporate in Mindfulness Meditation
And my muses dance on the pavement
Rubber, creativity, and road are the happy trio
As I grab my voice recorder and take another note
My mind dances so freely between those lines
That make up each lane
I feel it speeding so rapidly no matter
The limits imposed by signs I whiz by or drift past
Ensconced in my moving pod
I playing songs over and over again
As thoughts, images, and lines of dialogue
Burst forth and make their way to my lips
And digital recorder
Transient car and truck cities moving inspire me
As we jockey for position
Swearing laughing and smiling at each other
Though the professionals pay us no mind
For them the road is a thirty-thousand pound office
At times, a million miles left is a welcome break
At others, one mile seems more like swatch of asphalt
Stretching infinitely painfully beyond breaking
Over so many damned hills and equally as damned valleys
Never surrendering a hint as to its hoped-for end
At those times, it is a vapid creative purgatory
Limbo untouched by favorite songs or phone calls
LuvB2URoad as you simultaneously take me
Away from and lead me to wonderful worlds
Corporeal, imagined, and metaphysical
My journey limited only by the gas in my tank
Going, going, going
Flowing, flowing, flowing
While fully swaddled
In my rolling meditation temple
Copyright (c) 2019. All rights reserved.
Photo: Infinity’s Road (Lehigh Tunnel, 2015)
John David Higham 