Author: Chris Talbert

Not so daft

I have been silent

but still I speak.

My creativity dampened,

though flourishing

in flame.

I’ve been invisible

in plain sight.

Doing nothing,

and busy still.

The river has altered course,

the old bed is dry,

but the rains

are coming.

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Music Makes… ME

Why they cannot understand…

no…

sorry…

why they will never

understand

what this music does

to me

is fully enrobed

in the rest of their

ignorance of

what it means to be

aurally tied

to this world.

These

“sounds”

are life

running

through

me.

Daddy is not in

It’s a chore…

and I try to do my best,

(thank god I love him).

The reward is often

a glance

at a precious photo

or a moment when

he says my name….

It doesn’t matter…

It makes the day

priceless.

These kids can only throttle us

with the rope we’ve given them…

this crazy helix of promise

that only bears fruit

if we don’t kill them

first.

Don’t feed the demon

We have all been wounded

by those who judge,

hurl invectives,

put up barriers

or physically abuse.

We have been scarred

and marked by it.

But this

is not

our narrative.

These aggressions,

these demonstratives…

that’s their narrative.

Let it be their epitaph.

It is not the prologue

to our story.

It is what we do despite these things

that will serve to inform

who we are.