I Heard You Scream and Yell | Poetry Remix No. 33

Heard you scream and yell
Photo by Taneli Lahtinen on Unsplash

I heard you scream and yell – can’t deny it.
You mused that I did, too – can’t remember.
Time ticked by – January. . . December. . .

And that’s when we examined. . . Why are we here?
Tell me, do you wonder? Why are we here?

This is why. . . to shield each other from fear.
It’s love, my dear, and I wish that it’s clear.
So, grip tight baby, when it’s up and down.
Don’t give-up, even when we’re upside-down.

I won’t let you go.

Life is a trip, it won’t finish ’til we’re dead.
But you’ll find me when we glare into red.
Here or there, we’ll scream through this together.
I’ve always said. . . we’ll storm any weather.

Let’s Talk for a Moment

© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Let’s Talk for a Moment | Poetry Remix No. 31

talk for a moment
Photo by Gemma Chua-Tran on Unsplash

We say “Hi” and we talk for a moment.
What did we say, except for a fragment
of meaninglessness, dancing in movement
spinning around pain that feels permanent.

Code

© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Short: Jack-o’-lantern

Jack-o'-lantern
Photo by Rick Monteiro on Unsplash

Do I wear a Jack-o’-lantern?

You said it wasn’t about me.
Was anything at all?
In this season of ghosts and spectres,
Not just “Autumn” can “Fall.”

Something Just Isn’t Right

© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.

Something Just Isn’t Right | Short Poem No. 108

I can feel something just isn't right
Photo by Luisa Denu on Unsplash

I can feel it. Something just isn’t right.
Rejoined again after so many years.
Resting in hammocks by the beach all night.
At long last, letting go of all our tears.

It’s true, right? You didn’t mean to hurt me?
I thought I was laying to rest my past.
But unconscious to the storms surrounding;
Our final reckoning, coming in fast.

We die in habit, spinning on repeat.
We keep reaching for what we thought we lost.
So we close our eyes. . . We snuggle our feet. . .
Embrace our love. . and surrender the cost. . .

I can feel it. Something just isn’t right.
This hammock may be our coffin tonight.

Pumpkin Spice Lattes

© Joey Who? and WritingWithStrangers, 2019, except where noted otherwise. All rights reserved.