The Black Forest

Before it happened, 
I was driving through St Louis-looking at power lines.
Just like Dallas-so many ugly power lines.
I hate when there are so many power lines everywhere.

DId I just not see these at home?
Every time I see these I wonder, why do I hate them
So much, an immense frustration every time
They offend my eyes and ruin cute little towns.

There was a sigh, and I gave myself some credit,
Colorado Springs MUST be better than these cities,
And Naples too…well…maybe, I don’t know
If I can remember anymore…

Well, maybe we have better tax programs?
When I voted, I voted for tax dollars right?
For help when bad things happen, 
And every day maintenance and beauty.

Well our tax dollars must be put to better use,
In both of my deepest homes, Body mother and alma mater, 
They take care of pretty streets better than everyone else.
But now their destroyed again.

Flames erupt from the pretty homes I remember
Everything I thought of as so much nicer than here,
Playing through my mind.
So much of it is only ash, and others haze.

I can see the houses that are fine,
The stores I was admiring from far away,
I know almost everyone is fine,
But I don’t want the Black Forest destroyed.

Please stop the violence upon the beauty,
So much joy within the tangle of the trees,
A place name now becomes ironic,
As the Black Forest turns from red to black.

9000 and 100

The numbers whenever I watch something like this just blow my mind.
8000-9000 square feet…..isn’t that more than last year.
100 homes…one hundred.
And it’s not contained

So much is safe, it’s like worry is moot,
Why be worried everyone is fine…Don’t be sad
But everything is NOT fine.

Those numbers. Maybe its self-absorption to actually BE upset,
Selfish to worry about a misfortune only slightly your own,
But….the numbers.

That’s homes I have lived in, maybe not mine, but belonging to mine,
The beautiful places that brought me joy,
The best brownies in the world,
Piano lessons,
The tiny little room where Angel came from.

What is this feeling? Or are there too many to explain it as one?
So many creepy crawlies rushing in and devouring
Everything inside my chest, my fingers, my brain.

Houses are falling down in my head,
Worry is eating bits of my heart,
But everyone there is so calm…why worry?
How can I when my house is standing…at least for now.

You have to almost wonder if it’s worse just to hear the numbers.  

Fire Within and Without

Maybe it’s a desire for the end of the surreal
A craving for something beyond
comprehension-to become real.

Maybe its a vindictive self abuse
A desire for a pain that speaks
To others and your crueller self

Maybe its a question of worthiness
Am I worthy to be worried
Only if its me too

Maybe it’s even worse
A desire for the attention to center on yourself
A narcissistic disease

Maybe that ‘s why the fire crawls
Into the heart and begs
That you ask for the end of your own

Destroy my property, Destroy my house
Only  because its my real-est fear.
Just do it, So it doesn’t hurt so bad 
When it’s over.

Flaming like the fire itself
This violent desire creeps inside the ribcage,
All to be done is beg God,
Please don’t listen to what I ask

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