“Who Are The Masters?” I Wonder

Might not the ‘Something’
That is wrong
With me
Be the ‘Something’
That is right
With Me?

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 3/12/06

Stupid Knuckles

Stupid knuckles, stupid thumb,
Stupid veins, stupid pride.

Stupid youth, stupid sorrow,
Stupid age, stupid-hide.

Stupid lines upon my face,
Stupid does stupid things.

Wondrous knuckles, wondrous thumb,
Wondrous veins, stupid pride.

Wondrous youth, wondrous hope,
Wondrous age, stupid-hide.

Wondrous lines upon my face,
Wonders do stupid things.

Silly knuckles, silly thumb,
Silly veins, wondrous-hide.

Silly youth, silly sorrow,
Silly age, wondrous pride.

Silly lines upon my face,
Wonders do wondrous things.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 3/12/06

When One divided By Two equals Nothing

I sat upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see my breath,
Even though I was smoking
a cigarette.

I thought about my mother,
Lying in a rehab bed, alone,
And, I felt my self grow cold.

So cold are thoughts of self,
So bold are crimson tides,
So cold, I felt I couldn’t hold,
That I would explode
With everybodys lives.

I thought, upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see Life’s width,
Even as I saw it as smoke
from my cigarette.

I thought about my others,
Dying in all-elses beds, alone,
And, I felt my self grow cold.

So cold are actions of life,
So bold are crimson tides,
So cold, I felt I would be glad to die
To painfully expose
Everybodys lives.

I flinched, upon a bench so cold, today,
I could see my death,
Even though I lived, smoking
a cigarette.

I thought about my druthers,
Sighing in a mind-made bed, alone,
And, I felt my self grow cold...

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 3/12/06