#hellway of heartache

[rolloroberson]

Naïveté:

I realized as I was saying the words formed in the green fields of my soul that I was speaking to a thief dressed up in Christmas tree scrubs,

For a brief time I realized that everyone at one time or another has lived in an abandoned car parked along the back alleys of the demented mind;

Adorned with proudly displayed diplomas signed in burnt sienna crayon by the most recent officiating officer of the court who has yet to throw you out on the streets of this bantling burrough.

But you can smile and dance your way through this malignant maze constructed of all the cables you pulled out of her parietal lobe-

Coaxial cordage mislabeled as love dolls named Polarfuchs, designed to disguise their transmissive missives regarding the unvarnished sincerity of your black soul.

Pull up your favorite chair, from the ones you purchased against your unsullied will, superintend the syllables grown in the green fields of my being, as I swallow them before they descend the Sinai of my naked naïveté.

Rolloroberson©2022

(Photo Green Fields by © Adam Lee/Patheos)

[rolloroberson]

Stirrups:

It’s funny how intentions get thrown overboard early in the journey

What becomes of that once precious cargo-those notions of omnipotence that seemed so virtuous,

Worthy of worship itself

When the momentous trek for awareness and ultimate freedom turn on you

And your boot gets stuck in the stirrup after your high horse has dispatched you from that lofty perch

As the world turns upside down all around you

You catch a fleeting glimpse of that discarded cargo

Gliding giddily into God’s greenest garden

With their look of abandonment morphing quickly into a serenity that you believed belonged to you

As you realize in those last lucid moments that you yourself were the useless cargo

And your awakened beneficence was nothing more than cheap cruelty delivered to all and sundry with the knowing competence of a Roman emperor

Justice can be such a burden to dispense

And a bitter bitch to receive

Such is the stuff of awakenings…

Rolloroberson©2022

(“She calls me baby, she calls everybody baby,

It’s a lonely ol’ night but ain’t they all”

- Mellencamp)

(Photograph: Creator: Trevor Collens Credit: WANews/Copyright: trevorcollens.com.)