Minds by minutes live in it to play a moment relayed by a desire to own it when everyone is walking the other way.

My wife reminds me that I do the best that I can and she loves me for it, it is nice. The type of thing one rewinds in the mind when the morning alarm clock rings.

Things change when the money runs out, the couple becomes closer.

In a manner of speaking

Thinking of drinking away today until tomorrow is forgotten, rotten

When it gets to that point

Time to anoint another way

A display of the resurrection of hope, Presidential in that regard

Hard to find meaning when leaning on pennies to turn into dollars

Bottled like pigs ready to burst from lack of nourishment

Banks banking on the ability to fill their vaults

Giving halt to now

The purple cow has long since crossed the silhouette of the moon

Sometimes the mind reclines within a haze of red wine to define the line between rhyme and reasons for believing that deceiving is not what is happening on a Federal level

Treble adjusted when felt as a high pitch pain in the brain

Left to drain the rights of the swollen into puss for the poor

Poured down the throat of ignorance with a spoon full of sugar

Walls of sound pound the ground into a stark realization

Constellations bring elation to children like fire fly’s in a jar

Twinkling star enrapturing young hearts on the soul of a summer siesta

It is my sincere attempt to begin a new chapter in the writing career of Middlepoet. I am planning on a return to poetry. Although, I never really left. Somewhere along the way in my writing career, I fear that at times I have forgotten to keep the writing basic, in short to be poetic.

As a writer I have at times gotten away from what poetry should be, simplistic. Prose has made brief appearances in my poems, which although sometimes not a bad thing, can be a bit of a distraction. As a result, I have had to go back to the basics. I have been reading Shel Silverstein to refamiliarize myself with the beauty of the simple thought, the simple story.

I have found a great sense of reward in my attempt to return to metaphors and slant rhymes. Part of my poetic rebirth is my new found love for micro fiction. Essentially many of the “poems” I was writing were in fact works of micro fiction. I thoroughly enjoy the concept of telling a story in just a few hundred words, as is the case with micro fiction in prose and with poetry in verse, but it is important for me artistically to maintain a distance between the two.

Perhaps, this moment in my journey as a writer is an epiphany, perhaps the early stages of a manifesto. Perhaps this is nothing more than a continualization of a writer who has figured something out that is not such a mystery in the first place.

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Middlepoet.com

Check out Waterbug Hotel performance from the Middlepoet archives.

Middle Poetry

New Year beginning

Time to do something Snazzy

Creating substance

Check out new poems of mine here.

http://magazine-abrilliantrecord.blogspot.com/2008/12/hello-my-name-is-aaron-brendan-jackson.html

Rain falling from sky
Chilly day in this city
Fifty degrees brrrrrrr