Rainy Days

one overcast day
I was driving along the city streets
just as I had anticipated
it stated to rain

first came small rain drops
sprinkling the ground
then larger rain drops
followed at a faster pace
no time or space
in between
the raindrops
now an all out downpour

people on the streets
darted here and there
under this and under that
everyone hiding from the rain

those of us driving
quickly rolled up our windows
keeping the rain at bay

people in buildings
stayed put
realizing not even an umbrella
would be sufficient
to keep them remotely dry

i thought
how strange and peculiar
for us to hide from this rain
such a beautiful display
the earth cleansing itself
of hatred, bitterness and turmoil
that plagues it spirit and soul.

we all need to stop running away from ourselves
and come out of our hiding places
stand in the rain
be washed cleaned

i mean . . . lets face it . . .

if we were not here
how much suffering would there be


Posted 12/9/09
Copyright © 2009 by Jeff R. Ghee

Roots from the soles of his feet

Little black boy standing in the shade under the tree of life
Watching the leaves of opportunity and chance
Fall just out of his reach

He is unable to move crawl walk or run
The roots from the tree of life have grown into
The soles of his feet

Small branches choke his ashy ankles
Hanging him upside down right side up

Thick overgrown foliage at the top of the tree
Does not always allow the rain to feed
The fertile ground at the base of the tree
Where his inspiration for growth comes and goes

Red roses with pointy thorns grow
From the palms of his bleeding hands
When he tries to smell the sweet peddles of the rose
The little black boy is stung on the tip of his nose by
Pollinating bumble bees that feed on his nectar

The red roses often die when he clinches his fist
To pound the dirt to loosen his feet
So he can be free

The little black boy often cries
He know he cannot survive without
The roots from the tree of life

Posted 12/9/09

Copyright © 2009 by Jeff R. Ghee

Ingest the Full Moon

I want to ingest the full moon and spit out fables and legends of ware wolfs, silver bullets and once bitten, vampires, crosses and wooden stakes through the hart, the mummy and course form the raiding of the tombs.

I wan to ingest the full moon and live in a haunted house up on a hill when it’s always night time and it’s always raining.

I want to fall through trap doors and no one can hear my screams and there is no way to escape.
I wan tot ingest the full moon and be locked in a cemetery and chased like the people from the movie “Night of the Living Dead” (the black and white version).

I want to be buried alive so I can hear the dirt being shoveled on top of my wooden casket that’s’ way to small, I can hardly breath.

I want ingest the full moon and dream that I’m falling and never wake up, chased and can never run fast enough, fight off the monster and can never hit hard enough.

I want to choke on darkness and spit up the pieces of the full moon, fall face first to the ground and suffocate on the thoughts of surviving

Posted 12/9/09
Copyright © 2009 by Jeff R. Ghee

First Last Time

I carry you this first last time
My duty for sure
One man of six
One hand of twelve
Five steps to go
6ft down

I carry you this first last time
The handle is cold
My hand is numb
The box is shinny and new
Four steps to go
6ft down

I carry you this first last time
Overcast sky
Rain on the way
Faces painted in sorrow
Three steps to go
6ft down

I carry you this first last time
I hear the grass folding under my feet
My heart is heavy and empty
Two steps to go
6ft down

I carry you this first last time
The end of your journey
I can not take my last step
My hand slips away
Holding onto nothing
My knees give out
I fall
6ft down

12/7/09
Copyright © 2009 by Jeff R. Ghee