Short Timepieces

by Ben Nardolilli

The old and young are their age,
Bent over and crawling,
They do not play at those roles,
The body gives them the foundation
With little needed to build upon,
The middle-aged, and the teenaged
Are simply confused,
With new hair for the first time,
Taking up smoking and herbal remedies,
Learning to be identified by a car seat,
We, the liberated and still young,
We act out our age, often
With the ages of ages past,
Taking up hippie disco punk funk
Textile characters to parade in,
Remembering to hang the clothes up
Before passing out to worry
How we will starve
And in what style, tomorrow

Declaration

by Ben Nardolilli

If it helps,
You are not alone,
Not dangling,
Not smothered,
Not drowning with no one on shore,
There is a shore,
And there are others,
Some will care,
Some will not,
But the ones who ignore you,
Will still have to make the choice,
No one is so blind,
But once they pull you out,
You cannot be blind either,
You and they are in this together,
Whatever business life brings,
You share between you,
It is best to hold hands then,
Hands can make nets and walls at will,
A single body is good for an island
And although islands have a place
In slowing down the stream,
Islands are loved for helping others,
For recognizing you, you must recognize them,
You have eyes for them as much
As they have eyes for you,
We are all sensing the vibrations
Of this spinning world and the hum of stars,
Without community,
There are just fragments, a heap at most,
Come together and talk, write, scratch, and sing,
Life is all shadows in solitude,
Trust me,
It all makes sense
But only in one direction at a time.