Hallway to Nowhere

Author: Kel

  • Though These Remain (Poem)

    then

    heat shimmers on the streets of my childhood

    asphalt buckles under the hot midday sun

    bullfrogs throat in falling twilight

    moon offers deceptive promises in softened night

    gulf breezes never suffice to cool

    now

    train whistles sound near my last home

    electric saws whine in competition

    houses get moved, rebuilt, and demolished

    history is presented as a calling card

    quaint facades hide broken lives

    always

    friends have ever given joy

    meals provide room for storied laughter

    strangers often display untold kindness

    encouragement is left on wooden benches

    I have sought what I have found

    all these remain and I do not look back

    I go and I go soon

  • Why Would I (Poem)

    if offered the chance to talk with a god, I would decline

    capricous beings, prone to moving in mysterious ways

    no mystery really but play to bewilder those who believe

    a reality show writ on larger screen with dramatic weather

    a distraction for deity and faithful alike

    watch and take part if you must keep so busy

    meanwhile I have things to do

  • Do Not Look For Me (Poem)

    once I thought these stories important

    wrapped them around me

    dazzling jewels a means to hide

    now I walk more in silence

    trailing memories from my fingers

    dry leaves of yesterday turning to dust

    soon I will be gone

  • Miracle Baby (Poem)

    I practiced from the very beginning

    machines made me breathe

    strangers touched me with love

    for my first three months these sustained me

    gave me reason to return again and again

    I did not know I was not machine

    unrelated to the always present gentle hands

    I have never forgotten those earliest teachers

    and now dying gets easier every time

  • Shadow Town (Poem)

    ghosts of yesterday linger in alleys

    spirits of might have been drift through streets

    shards of broken dreams glint on sidewalks

    tatters of abandoned hopes hang in storefronts

    we could have gathered all to eat real food around a common table

    chose instead for some to feast and others beg

    found acceptable for those who have

    to laugh in derisive disregard at those who lack

    indeed to deny them room in any stable

    those all being filled by brass calves

    soon to be paraded out by fools as gold

    and children starve

  • The Ghost Of The Bonefire (Poem)

    the scent of smoke lingers in the alley

    the restaurant has been gone for awhile

    the owner saw the writing on the wall

    shiny dollar signs scrawled by new money

    incomers remake the town into their own image

    wealth management firms with financial planners

    luxury sports with concierge golf

    rooftop bars with small plated precious food

    soon they’ll build themselves a place of worship

    inside will be a golden calf

  • In A Field Beside The Railroad (Poem)

    ground underfoot heralds a train

    prolonged horn sounds industrial grief

    mechanical death has already occurred

    obsolete car drags obsolete car

    birds pull silence up from dirt

    they do not mourn the shaking passage of time

    theropod wings are much older than shaped metal

  • The Room (Poem)

    here the antechamber

    a dreary room small and drab

    unfurnished lit only by a neon light

    flickering threatening to go out

    the floor covered by a slick of mud

    tracked from other peoples’ shoes

    once this seemed the world

    brilliant views of an endless sky

    a sun that shone on verdant fields

    now older and my eyes fail

    clearly the illusions fade

    know where I wait and why

  • “Children Want To Work Without Lunch Breaks” (Poem)

    (The title is a quote from a U.S. State-in the Deepest South-Delegate)

    these new gods, deities of flash and cash

    delight in human sacrifice as they stride across the world,

    our backs their stepping stones, our faces to the ground.

    we sing in worship, songs shouting possession;

    we groan in pain, cries seeking recognition.

    both go unheard by the hard indifferent dirt

    and the gods pay no heed at all.

    why should they, made in our image?

  • Whose Hand, Whose Words (Poem)

    I say to this hand in disbelief

    whose are you, to what body do you belong

    likewise to these words that you read

    whose are you, what hand wrote you

    you are not mine, neither hand nor words

    how can I who do not exist

    have either of these things

    you are not mine, neither hand nor words

    how can I who do not exist

    have either of these things

    yet here they are, and I would not be

    do you want them