Butterflies

In essence, you are neither lover nor demon, but the temperate wind stirring my sorrowful past – conduit of unrest. (Tuesday, I borrow from my Twitter poems.  Visit me @Vjknutson.)

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Explosive

Scarred existence seeks a patience born of peace Cannot find the path tainted ruts of blood line a minefield. (Poem originally appeared on Twitter.  Visit me @Vjknutson. Image from personal collection.)

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Treading Trauma

Treading water where barracudas swarm, inject a drop of kindness incite a ravenous threat Quick the decision to bail, shed contamination, resulting terror – shame exposed. Now tread slough longing floored robed in foreboding trembling in shadows. (I have made poor choices in my life, which still haunt my dreams.  My therapist says to focus […]

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Unfair

Sporting crisply pressed regrets and tight-assed judgments, the past happened upon me, caught me mid-mediocracy, eye-balled me with a sneer, and then strolled on by as if I wasn’t even worth a ‘hello’. Wait a minute, I cried out trying to pull myself together, noting too late, my lack of grooming, how unfairly I’d been caught […]

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Filters

Age masks the depth and breadth of ability – houses more than anticipated room for expansion, however; current state of disrepair – walls buckling, wiring faulty, and security systems failing – compromises output. Old holds a certain charm, character well-earned, but it would be useful to install a mechanism for locking out the past – […]

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What Lies Ahead

What lies ahead, when pain has clouded the past and fear is choking the present? Is it possible to glimpse the future without projection, without prejudice, or do we need to clear the heart before we can be guided by hope?

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Adjust the Focus

What purpose is served in going back – and yet, I find myself revisiting, expecting what? Revelation… apology… renewal… I am no more than a guest in history’s halls powerless to undo the drama, only risk further complications. Past equates with inequity, no point turning on the faucet of resentment unleashing floods of anger. Best […]

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Sleeping Alone

Sleeping alone – so intrusive – a child born of so many intentions awash in a trail of barricades I cope, cook up breezes, strike wet ground, stuff myself to satiate the onslaught ground rapidly shifting – Earth Mother exerting presence – too stubborn, I turn away Look for God, but my cup keeps moving […]

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Bundled Memories

I carry my past in a long, white sack – canvas like a sailor’s – as if my life depends on it… or a laundress toting bundles, tied with string, promises of toil and recompense to come. My contents are not sustainable, though, only sorry tales, entangled woes mutated into plastic figurines, more comical than […]

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