PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

There’s chow littered on the staircase floor.

I scramble to clean up the spill before it’s all consumed

By the cat that brought the family bad luck since the late spring.

Here I go, like I always do,

Holding my tongue on the job

While I hear you shout

While I hear you try to crush me

While I hear you goad me to scream.

It confuses me why an act of kindness and good intentions

Can wrought so much volatile sentiments.

I’ve been hesitant to feed the little one because I don’t know his tastes.

Never did I anticipate that her gluttonous habits are what triggers you.

Or is it he? Wow. Just wow.

Anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

My curiosity about how long you’ll live after that squabble fascinates me

But it concerns me at the same time.

Mad people live shorter lives than those that can stay calm when there’s an inconvenience.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

Just today, while hitting the road, I thought we’d find common ground.

Keeping our cools while the mama cat is away

And a kitten comes out to play

Before it helps us seek four crystals in need of recovering.

When all that is done, I thought we’d go out for

Bagels and quiche for old time’s sake.

I enjoy the little interactions and activities when your temper is below zero.

Sadly, tonight once again broke the streak

That counted consecutive days we got along.

This always happens growing up, yet I never see it coming.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison.

If you think the black cat is getting pudgy,

Why don’t you take a look in the mirror?

You’ve put on more pounds than she did.

Or he did? How did you get the genders mixed up in the heat?

I guess anger does wonders to the hippocampus.

You’re the reason why I have to keep my temper in check.

And why I prefer tears over beers.

All for the sake of my own well-being so I don’t turn out exactly like you.

Your temper is my poison and I won’t let it fester.

The only antidote to my ailment is knowing that I’ll be out of this roof

Happier than I was living under it just like I was for the past two years.

I know that as a guppy, Mother said to be considerate of you and

I was told that deep inside, you do care.

Sadly, it’s excruciatingly difficult for me not to judge this book by its cover.

I just can’t pry it open to see the pages no matter how hard I try to interpret your rage.

But if this little message hurts your feelings,

It’s a dish served hotter than the volcano in the back of your head.

To you, I’ve always been the stupid little boy you’ve been raising since thirty-two.

To me, you’ve always been the hot-headed scumbag that loves pushing my buttons.

And your temper is my poison. It will always be my poison no matter how old we get.

My every step breaking through fine, glass blown shards of frozen tinsel as if it were delicate Tiffany crystal.

Tip-toeing softly, I carefully avoid any obstacle in my path. Fearful of brittle coverings on a tiny branch cracking off and                                  crashing down, I slowly make my way through this crystal maze, seeking solid ground

to rest upon and catch my breath. Another quest looms around the corner, waiting for me to attempt it's challenge.

I will go quietly, with tender motion and gentle stride, hoping to conquer and take my next breath of victory.

Undefeated, till my lungs have no wind and my heart fails to surge, I stand relentless.

Standing tall as I lay by a babbling dry creek

I gaze endlessly with limited time into the still darkness of a dazzeling lighted pool

Thoughtlessy mindful of every sound of my silent surroundings

I drift away to places unknown, yet known, to  ponder the meaning of my life

Sudden bursts of dark light moisten the still air of the noisy, calm darkness

"Who's there'" I called out with silent voice to disembodied solidness

Suddenly I realize, a few hours later,  that life is just an illusion

As I lay standing by the babbling, silent, dry creek

My mind became crystal clear as muddy water...I found my answer