She

She flutters, time stutters,

then seems to start again.

As she falters.

What started this?

The beginning and the end.

I run to catch her.

I think I’ve caught her.

Can you catch the wind?

She flutters, time stutters,

like I’ve seen again.

-OM

44.1

The spread of gloom

I’m guilty of it.

The worst thing each morning at work is to come into a meeting and hear how tired everyone is. Especially when your team was the one working this weekend and everyone else looks like they are tired from wrestling fun in the mud all Saturday. God knows what they did Sunday.

And then it starts.

“I’m so tired,” comes the first comment.

“Ugh these projects are so hard and awful!”

Gloom spreads across the land.

It’s kind of like a spreading darkness, Lord of the Ring’s, Sauron sort of thing that occurs.

I fight it, but it’s hard because I’m a grumpy puppy myself. I find it very hard to be a cheerleader each day and try to inspire those that should be inspiring.

It’s like a superhero inspiring other superheroes.

What’s the point?

You are a superhero… go be fucking great…

-OM

44.1

When it isn’t as big as you expected

As I take on new hobbies and let old hobbies go, I decided to buy some gold.

I know. Judge me! I’m so greedy.

I ordered online what was labeled as a 99.9% pure “gram” bar and I know what a gram is. I went to school and know measurements.

I expected bigger…

No that’s not a giant coin. That is a nickel.

I think in my head I was holding a giant gold bar which would obviously not be a gram.

But I can’t even hold this with two hands… how do you satisfy your imagination with that.

I mean it’s so small…

-OM

Painted Smiles

Painted smiles. Come paint me now.

Evenly painted, spreading trowel.

Painting happiness. Paint me a smile.

A perfect smile to last awhile.

Painting me. Let me paint you.

Let me show you what is seen by few.

Painted perfection. Are we perfect yet?

Painting the outlines others set.

J.C.C.

44.1

Poem

I dreamed a dream, within a dream.

No diamond rings, no pretty things.

These evil things, what do they mean to me.

Night terrors they call dreams, nightmares it seems.

I’ll take a drink, no pills for me.

But still I see how clearly it can be.

To walk trapped inside of despair.

Worse still, loop it, a hell of a reel.

I think it, thought it, let it pass.

I write it, wrote it, let it past.

and that’s the life I live inside to be.

No sleep, I don’t want to sleep. We’ll see.

-OM

44.1