Rumor Mill

so the rumor mill is turning
I hate that expression
it's right up there with " I see someone has a case of the Mondays...."  not that I have ever personally had a case of the Mondays.  My weekends are so full that I am bright chipper and cheery to be set with only one responsibility for 8 hours.  No, I don't generally get "the Mondays" but hearing some one say it sure gives me a case of the "I will end yous"

So anyways the rumor mill is turning.  And everyone is on it.  It flipping gigantic  and everyone gets their own little blade.  Its not one of those fancy wind mills... no its an old fashion water mill with this hidden feature that allows the controller to push a button so that the blade lowers at the apropraite time to behead one of the poor victims attached to it.

everyone is freaking out cause they can hear the mill turning .
creak creak creak creak
and people are getting neurotic, trying to figure out ways to trick the system, jam the gears or bend their neck in the right way at the right time to avoid collision.  And I feel neurotic too but not for those reasons.  I feel this way because I wonder if I should be freaking out too instead of wondering what I am going to do with all my free time in case I get severed as well.

Temporary Thing

I am happy
this emptiness right here
this emptiness right now
is a temporary thing.

Happy people cry too
even if their tears are confused, missed and taken for laughter
Happy people scream too
even though their pain is mistaken for con and fused with fervor

I am a happy person
and this emptiness is a temporary thing

this Emptiness
where my Worth once stood
Worth I so carelessly gave away
Worth that with an equal carelessness was wasted away,
until my hallowed became hollow  there
once warm womb turned temporary torrid tomb…

Stand not at this grave a weep for me
Neither grieve for me
Nor hold wake with me
instead
give me your noise
lend me your laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can cry

Soak me in the sun of your warm smiles,
transmute this sea of tears into fertile spring rains rich with the beauty of our combined joy.
Lend me the rhythm of your stamping feet
turn bitter grapes of sorrow into sweet wines of sacred wisdom, a precious ambrosia garnered from life’s painful lessons
Pour it over this rotted earth
let me use your bright colors as inspiration to re-landscape my barren greedy glorious garden

Grieve not for me
nor hold wake with me

give me  noise
lend me  laughter
create chaotic celebration so that I can
cleanse
create
and cry

for I am a happy person
and this
this is but a temporary thing.