Chris Vaillancourt

This Nonsense I Began

I wonder what pleasure
I can expect from the dawn?
Free to stand and holler
With vengeance at the sun.
Today is a good day, I feel,
In that, the best is yet to come.
I pray I have success
To watch the fate
Of my ambitions come undone.
It is to be expected
That I will always be the same.
I think this is understood
Regardless of the rules
Established to control me.
I would rather stay in the yard
Than face the appointments
I am compelled to create.
Oh dear, it is almost over,
This nonsense I began.

The Woman Ticking Her Own Clock

She struggles with her path,
even though it is one
she has chosen.

There are words flung at her
that she does not
want to hear.

She has declined advice.

Her purpose is to be what
she wants to be.

The problem for her is
finding exactly what this is.

She opens a can of cat food
and feeds it to her dog.
She licks a stamp and
places it on the fridge.

Confused at simple things,
she struggles to defend
complicated matters.

She will not open her
humanity
to any
other
person.

She is afraid.

More of herself
then anyone else.

Chris Vaillancourt © 2014

Dangling

Dangling feet into water..

..searching mind; looking for an answer
to a question I have not asked yet.

Entering space of discontent, rambling
thoughts that do not illustrate peace.

Dangling heart into soul...

..seeking a place to hide where
the clocks are not working.

Where I can reflect nothing and yet
assume everything.

I hear the dipping leaves crashing
like feathers onto the ground.
I see the pebbled danger
that comes from being isolated.

Yet I seek that isolation anyway.

I ask only that I can shut my eyes
and see only what shadows
I want to see.

Dangling love into hot lava...

Watching it burn away; aware
that it will not come back.

Not caring, but daring to
reach out and grab
at it again.

Why?
Why?
You demand.

Because I must.

I whisper secrets in the
ears of my lover.

Letting her know
events and opinions
I only share with her.

She smiles at my words.

I know they please her.

As I limply moan
with anticipation
at what is to come.

Why?
You demand.

Well, I've answered you.

Chris Vaillancourt © 2014