One for the Kids
I was your age
When I decided
I’d had enough
I was tired
So, I turned off
The television
Ate a bottle of Valium
And waited
I was so tired
And when I woke up
I was in the ICU
With an endotracheal tube
Shoved down my throat
A Foley catheter
Inserted into my bladder
And an immense
Feeling of gratitude
That I had not
Been conscious
For any of it
And an even greater
Feeling of sadness
That I was still alive
And that my mother
Would have to explain
To her physician
Why she needed
An early refill
David Burdett
5/17/2024
Motel Hell
The three of us
In that seedy motel
The air reeking
Of roach poison
Cigarette smoke
Methamphetamine
And bleach
From the jacuzzi
To the kitchenette
I am in Hell
I remember
Thinking
As I wracked
My brain
For a polite way
To excuse myself
From the madness
Of my psychotic
Companions
And their
One-way
Expedition
To the outer limits
Of nowhere
David Burdett
1/10/2022
Vacuumed by Violent Vortex Waterspout
A leisurely sail out by a virgin island far from the mainland hinted of heavenly, glorious forecast.
We embarked under most salutary weather conditions oblivious to meteorological predictions of severe hurricane (category 5) maelstrom just barely detected by radar.
Thus, (thyself and thee missus) paid scant attention to oft interjected broadcasts (between commercial deliveries), when the skies and sea appeared calmly placid.
Nary a hint gleaned sans of any weather forecast jack knifing, snap chatting, or rip roaring storm.
Many previous supposedly violent, yowling, beastly, enormously horrendously kickass, ominously ravenous, unforgivingly wicked, yo-yoing ma frightful abominations crumbled entirely.
Inert lambasting, monstrously nasty punishingly rapacious slamming torrents underwent wimpy yawning, baby faced hypocriticalness Janus mocking nature.
While tooling about within a crimson edged italicized Jesus Loves Outliers Catamaran for the vast majority of that typical summer day (with nary a worry creasing thy stern brow), my primitive climatological global position satellite (in tandem with the one percent Neanderthal mom genes – this genetic tidbit of information acquired upon submitting a tube full of mine saliva processed by biochemists affiliated with 23andme.com) an electronic guiding light found me linkedin to promising unknown destiny.
While far out to sea (where infinite blue water merged with cerulean celestial vault), nothing could possibly abend, diminish, grandeur joyfully manifesting peacefulness sans vibrant yearning bursting every hotly kindled nook of psyche!
Twas while thine being seduced into a sublime hypnotic state, that a shrill emanation reached these highly attuned ears, which supreme auditory sense compensated for the extreme myopia afflicting me since a little whippersnapper.
Ah, thine spouse (comfortably reclining upon a amply cushioned deck chair) espied a faint smudge away near the vanishing point of the horizon. Since her eyesight much more keen (while she dealt with diminished hearing), this the outcome of countless childhood bouts with Eustachian tube infections), I entrusted any distant potential threat to benevolent babe.
Sparse trappings of basic nautical instruments came in handy as each of us squinted into our own set of pricy binoculars.
Even though highly nearsighted (with floaters that peppered field of vision), a distinct amorphous dark mass appeared to be skirting the skies at the approximately the speed of sound.
Never one to roughhouse, spar, nor tangle with the wrath of natural forces, an instinctual reaction found me reorienting our quality state of the art made vessel back to the closest jetty of lands-end.
Though this blotch became more pronounced within blink of eye, no stirring of wind-song palpably materialized to serve as an invisible tether, which would have subsequently tugged this speck of flotsam (bobbing along the briny deep with two adults) within the ocean.
Asper when a noticeable increase in air velocity present, the concomitant blackish dome found helter skelter thoughts competing with an external disposition of calm. No anti-anxiety medications (about a half dozen prescription magic bullets toned down inexplicable inherent vulnerability to panic and susceptibility to experience a sloop of physiological symptoms formerly - meaning during that emotionally tempestuous prepubescent stage) rendering this chap good as useless.
Once sufficient atmospheric currents ideal to raise sails (prayerfully gliding troughs and crests), our destiny subsumed by the merciless whims of irreconcilable small medium forces at large.
Best option available constituted just hunkering down, and securing heavy objects that could be bandied about once grabbed by titanic powers governing Earth.
After battening down the hatches, a ploy arose to tap into the knot tying skills (earned thru skills taught and red badges of courage earned when boy-scout thence Coast Guard survivalist tactics learned), would be put to the electric kool aid acid test.
While hastily trying to sequester vital rations (sand which I also counted requisite voyaging equipment), this spry simian reviewed (reconnaissance reckoned as if an enemy in midst of pummeling this former boatswain and the savvy wife) the ominous black soundclouds driving, hashtagging, and kickstarting energetically forward getting hideous instantaneously – ja!
Most deafening roar (like the eye of a tiger) synchronized with Poseidon poised pell mell whipped thee Homo Sapiens schooner, and flecked like spit two helpless primates now within the maws of mercurial mincing monster.
Akin to Jonah and the whale, an immense vortex waterspout wielded woeful wusses.
How ironic to become astutely electrified with the physics of humongous whirlpools, while being swallowed within non discriminate ferocious force fields fanning across the vista, when just moments before a placid surface met thine gaze.
Team ming tribes of turbulent twirling tendrils luxuriantly looped, licentiously lashed, and lickety-split wrought wrenching wracking (exceeding the series of unfortunate events experience by Lemony Snicket by exponential powers – Damn envious this dude envied said pseudo pirate) wickedness came our way.
No opposing counter force could redeem this suddenly frightful middle aged man, nor assist the spouse, whereat only the stormy fury of Gaia (we named Daniel) would decide how the tale of two city bred aficionados ended.
Interestingly enough (though caught within the terrestrial typhoon) this marginal member made peace with death. Upon accepting a premature demise, (whose two daughters of mine would eventually become privy to this papa and mama lost – heavens to Betsy – at the gambit decreed via prime mover), a fledgling glimmer hovered inside jettisoning knowledge learned. Mister no-name parlayed quest resorting silently to undergo verve witnessing first hand the adventure of a lifetime.
No idea fixated itself whether death succeeded this sea veer, soaked to the bone, swampy scrimmage since that manmade essence viz space/time continuum obliterated.
Awareness of Bing a Capital One Earthlinked Hotmail, received an Insta-Gramm from Gemini (?), an invitation where souls transformed into an altered state spent LivingSocial amidst an Outlook with good n Plenty of Sprint ting disembodied spirits each housed within a Soundcloud Twittering Uber Yikyak.
Henceforth any innocent lives lost to the unsurpassed might upon the third planet from the sun Joyus lee pride fully joined Afterlife MeetUp.
After crossing over into the dimension of non-corporeal surreal tawny veil, a absolute silence disrupted by the wings of a swallowtail butterfly (at some unknown destination), which interestingly enough (and like totally irrelevant) throve on wild asparagus.
Twas said classy donned, ethereally fleeting, and globally honed individually joyously kool Lepidoptera who made us (thyself and the missus) reckon that nonhuman organisms seemed to possess greater basic, democratic, fantastic, holistic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic, quixotic, telepathic, et cetera intelligence.
No utterances took place between this generic guy (thwarted into another universe) and the flora and fauna, which sent instant messages kickstarting a lively mission to incorporate ourselves into an altered state far more rhapsodic than a previous housing of consciousness.
Animals and plants downplayed any gross infringements on the niches assumed by plethora of entities more than willing to make accommodations for most fierce some beastie boy and goo goo doll, who courtesy mind boggling combinations whilst becoming repurposed upon exhaling final breath.
Nada iota of recall could dredge the phenomena, when both this pissant quirky rebel rouser, and his sidekick soul mate became reconstituted, homogenized, and configured into biota unlike anything found on planet Earth.
Precipice of Danger
Why did I go to Peru? To a rustic camp somewhere high in the mountains? With a broken foot and ankle in a cast and resting on a leg scooter?
Our guide utters something not in English, and other campers pick up the pace of clearing a new site for our encampment. Shoveling snow. Moving rocks. Erecting tents. Building fire pits.
Why is everyone glancing at me and shaking their heads? Because I am just sorting gear? Because I appear to be the only American of the dozen or so campers? And the only one not pulling his or her weight? Fine, you try hard labor with a bad leg.
Break time at sunset and everybody huddles around a large barrel with a blazing fire inside. Everyone but me. I try to scoot in but other campers won't let me. Snickering faces are bathed in the warm, orange glow from the barrel.
Soon, everyone leaves the barrel but me. They line up on a rocky ledge to retrieve dinner from a wagon. It looks like chipped beef, but I can't get close enough to be sure. I guess I'll miss dinner again. They find rocks to sit on and drag the fire barrel away from me, so they can stay warm.
I look for a rock to sit on. I go up a slight incline, and I find one 10 yards from the group. But as I lift my leg off the scooter, somebody from the group yells. I look up, and others are shouting at me. I don't know what they are saying.
I sit on the rock, and my leg scooter rolls backward toward a cliff. It disappears. I stand to look, and I find that I am on the precipice. I topple backward and fall, but my right hand grasps a branch. I do not know how a tree got up there, but I hang on tightly. Now both hands are on the branch as my body dangles helplessly in nothingness. The group's screams have stopped. I hear a crack. I yell for help, but no one comes. Another crack, and a big piece of bark falls away. I yell for help, but no one comes. I can see the yellow innards of the branch. I yell for help, and now I have to pee.
I awake in my warm bed and head to the bathroom.
Just Another Thursday
You said the words I never thought would hurt me so badly.
My best friend,
the one who has known everything about me since I was 12,
told me that I got left behind when she went off to college,
not just physically, but mentally.
She told me she left me behind.
That her heart belonged there,
and that communication became a chore.
I had a panic attack for the first time in a while after she said that.
I spent my night crying, physically in pain,
because I was losing my best friend for good it felt like.
One day it will all turn out to have been just another Thursday,
but for now, it's all I can think about.
Monthly Visitors: an Appreciation for Eclipsing Lunacy
Euclidian ellipses
Conjure circumnavigational collusions — coincidences,
Lending lustrous
Interactive interventions, invocations intersecting
Peculiar perigees, promising
Surrendering spheres'
Eccentricities
Enhanced evocations enter,
Culling, calling, conspiring
Life's longevity; love's liaisons
Interweaving invitingly:
Pineal pulsations
Summon
Extraocular, extrasensory experiences
Estrus erupts expediently, explosively;
Cyclicly controlled coital capitulation, chaining charmed celestial
Lunacy, leading libido lovingly — lustfully —
Into intercourse — invasive interludes
Portending, perhaps, procreation;
Shared solar sexuality suddenly spawning
Entanglement's enamored embraces, expressing embryonic expectations
Man In The Window
his shoulders hold him
fast to that broken sill
four stories high
his tomorrows shadow
the shapes of men passed
before, their hands
gnarled by heavy hammers
nails that bind and pull
hard wood together
climbing atop scaffolding
like we would rope swing
into the cool lake
our backs to the world
only directing our eyes
ahead
now the leaves fall in piles
and the man knows
he can count the years
he has left on both hands
and his shoulders remain
the heaviest part of him
his dreams still light
as air
Melancholic Musings
Sometimes it feels like I'm inside a small glass dome at the bottom of a deep, dark ocean. I see the cracks gathering in the glass and I know that eventually I'm either going to drown, alone and helpless under the weight of it all or I will struggle and struggle until I breach the surface only to find no land in sight.
Sometimes I feel that spiteful, stubborn spark within me yelling at me, spurring me to just keep moving. But sometimes that darkness leaks into the dome and I'm surrounded by a miasma of all of that pain and self loathing, and it gets so much harder to kindle that spark in me.
I guess I'm just intelligent enough to see not only myself trapped in this cycle, but everyone else as well. A part of me knows that to break the cycle, if such a thing is even possible, that I would have to break that dome that surrounds each and every one of us. And that it may just cut us down to nothing in the process. Besides who am I to be capable of anything like that. Just another drowning man.
I try to wave to the others through the darkness in between our respective prisons, hoping that they see me, even though I can't see them. But I hardly see any evidence that they even know that I'm here. Perhaps the miasma grips them deep as well. I don't know.
But eventually something has to give, even if that something is me. Until then, I search for the light where I can, and hope that others do the same. Maybe one day we can cast these dark waters in warm light and finally truly see each other. Finally help each other without the pain and paranoia and greed poisoning us all.
I hope so, more than anything.
Available now! by T.F. Burke
easy to read poetry that feels like it was plucked from your own mind! my debut poetry collection, "Waves of Clarity" by T.F. Burke is available now! https://t.co/lfZ60h1Aic