truth

#11 JUSTICE (song-in-progress)

In a building of marble
Where truth meets its match
Adversarial claws scratch
As words catch and detach
While one is singing lullabies
Another buzzes like a cloud of flies
Corrupting the corpse of truth with maggots of lies
She ties on her blindfold
Listening to the stories told
From lips so old yet cold and bold
Until the flare of a match idea
Knits together like a continental pangaea
Deciphering who is the Medea wielding fake panaceas
Leaden words melt in a mist
Golden truth now may exist
O Justice, mighty alchemist…

ASPIE ASPECT

The Aspie aspect of me
Conjures up scenarios
Twisting and turning
Through my neurodiversity
Sometimes making them real
They’re so logically true
But when up against
Neurotypicality
So-called reality
Tells me I’m wrong
Am I? I ask myself
How do we know
What is below
The river’s surface?
How do we decide
If there be dragons
Who comfortably abide
In the corners of the world?
Is it a lie?
Maybe I’m neuroacceptant…

SINCERITY

It’s the little steps

Baby steps

That matter

Something we forgot

When toddlers ourselves

No need for all or nothing

No matter the time allotted in life

Just start small

Confessional poets tell it all

Isn’t there always

A bit of fiction, though?

How do we know?

We, today

Are luckier than Adam and Eve

Than Romeo and Juliet

Communication done with ease

No need to trek across turbulent seas

When writing can be

Between you and me

Just need to say

Can you see?

This is me

The true me

And begin

Tottering across the floor

Like babies ready to walk

Before they fly…

IMAGE: Sunshine Skyway Bridge, St. Pete, FL

IN THE CLOSET

Confessed autism

Honesty not always best

Some non-autistics scared

Think we violently meltdown

Read: murderous

(Witnesses doomed to burn)

At best we seem stiff

Read: weird

(Because we don’t like the touch of strangers)

At worst, we seem iffy

Read: untrustworthy

(Because we don’t march cadently)

How about that occasional

Inappropriate comment

Sorry, I thought it was funny

I see it’s not

Hey, where you going?

(Another friend lost)

So where are all those people

Who want to mainstream us

Struttin’ around

Writing books and speeches

Raising money

But will you be my friend?

Will you hang out with me?

“We’ll get together soon…”

Yeah, I heard that line

From a Harry Chapin song

Read: NO

So seems I was smart

Being in denial for years

No one ever knew

But then, I woke up

Thought I could be true

To me and you

But here’s my realistic view:

Sometimes it is better

Not to emerge from

The autism closet

Unless you have a superpower that others want

Read: fame, fortune

But some days you’ll know

Who the real friends are

And they will appear

Mysteriously

To brighten your days…

IMAGE: CLOSET (Pinterest: no attribution)

“RESISTANCE IS FUTILE”

Wish you were a tablet

So I could press your chest

Where that stone heart lies

To hear the truth

When I ask if you love me

I’d use voice activation

Requesting you go to snopes.com

You’d light up

And I’d say

Do you love me?

The answer would be

“Urban Legend” or

“Rumor” or

“False” or

Best of all

“True”

Then, no matter

The reply

I’d get on with my life

Whether I stayed or said goodbye

Rip the bandage off quickly

Tell me the truth

Always, because

I’m beginning to see

The beauty

Of Star Trek’s Borgs…

Image: Tanga cyborg heart

FUNDAMENTAL FOUNDATION

Finding no relief in sleep

Fighting the hypnagogic images

Flashing behind my eyelids

Feeling a stranger, sleeping man, beside me

Frightening yet comforting image detaches

From the vivid spectrum

Flickering

Face veiled

Flight of a

Full-length statue resurrected

From the coldness of alabaster

Fluttering into our

Flesh and whispering

Find your wind rose

Freedom comes

From letting it drift

Forget where it may land

Feathery

Finger of

Fortune

Follow it to the end of time

Fleetingly, I recognize her as a

Fantasy resembling Corradini’s Veiled Truth

Foggily sleep-deprived, it is probably part of the

Phantasmagoria that will not let me slumber…

	poeturja on EMPTY DOORS
	Christine Valentor on EMPTY DOORS
	poeturja on EMPTY DOORS
	Christine Valentor on EMPTY DOORS
	poeturja on EMPTY DOORS