Soliloquize

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I am lost

Between meaningless rhetoric

Of warped semantics,

Confusing mindless behavior

And senseless murmurings

As the definition of…

Love.

Entertainment.

Friendship.

Career.

Art.

Consumerism.

Reality.

News.

Stability.

Religion.

Conversations.

Trust.

Family.

Relationships.

Life.


 Olsfred James 2016©

Vinyl

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The creaks and cracks

Of her antique record player

Slowly chaperones the hollow echo

Of a dauntless verse.

With a natural ease,

The instruments amplify

And a tune chimes in

Stretching between halls

Invading every room

“If there's a cure for this
I don't want it
Don't want it
If there's a cure for this
I don't want it,

I don't want it”

The music vibrates her soul

Narrating her thoughts

Drifting softly

Recalling days gone by.

She hugs the air

Weaving her fingers together

Imagining being nestled at the waist

Humming silently.

As her playlist

Ushered the evening

Each song opened with

A quiet whirring

As the needle gently kissed the vinyl

And she continued.

I watched her

Endlessly in thought

Dreamily swaying away

To her musical tradition

Stirring blended aromas

As I awaited Sunday’s dinner.

 Olsfred James 2016©

Downhearted

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Up on melancholy hill

The beauty of this world 

Has gone awry,

Black and white colored rainbows 

Ache of sadness,

Wilted flowers

Bleed colors into muck

And the call of the wind

Is empty and hollow.

A funeral hymn prolongs

Without lyric

Without secession

An unending monotonous duration

Of a dismal melody,

With contorted voices

Inviting the uninvited,

Enticing the sorrowful

To fester and wallow

In a mournful song.

Here they lay

Resting in dismay

Above ground

While the stench of decaying flesh,

Strikes sharp

Rancid and sickening

Filling the air

And poisons the arid soil.

A caution sign for a tombstone

Hangs overhead is inscribed:

"This is where dreams come to die."

Olsfred James 2016©

80s

I’ve got a Trapper Keeper type of memory storage

Assorted childhood memories

Of metal lunch box days

Themed with my favorite cartoon character

And Floppy Disks were still a thing

When an alien made Speak and Spell popular

Filing to the theater to hear the reeling of the film strip projector.

Breakfast wasn’t as sweet if Mr. T or Gremlins weren’t on the cereal box

And Afternoons weren’t complete if Reading Rainbow

Or the Sesames Street was not on repeat.

Damn I miss the 80s.

Olsfred James 2016©