Night Flights

By Cliff Lake

 

Night Flights

 

Circle logic robot menu on the phone,

No getting through, he’s left unknown.

A useless two hours without a break,

Left with sour stomach and headache.

 

He feared that gravity kept him down,

Heavied his head without a crown,

He feared he would never reach the clouds,

An unknown image among faceless crowds.

 

Lofty visions ended so soon,

Rising and popping, fragile balloons.

But nightly thoughts in his head dance,

Elevation, given half the chance.

 

To rise afar and away,

To escape toils and decay.

But morning comes and his head clears,

And so it goes throughout the years.

 

Then the daily grind pounds again,

That ceaseless crushing without end.

A murder, he thinks, of his dreams,

It’s only in his head he hears the screams.

 

But though the machine grates him every day,

It does not erode those dreams away.

Before and as he sleeps he flies,

High-flown plans that reach the skies.

 

Must he live always in dreamscape?

Can a new reality take shape?

Is this why his back remains unbowed?

Is this why in his eye the spark still shows?

 

It is hope that has borne his heavy freight.

It is hope that has kept his back this straight.

The broken surround him and wonder why,

He is so grounded, with his head so high.

 

He feared that gravity kept him down,

Heavied his head without a crown,

 But before and as he sleeps he flies,

High-flown plans that reach the skies.

 

Cliff Lake 8/12/2024

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2024

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

One Thousand Horsemen

By Cliff Lake
  One Thousand Horsemen   The call of an ally, A friend of old: “We ask your aid! Will you be bold?”   “Ancient terrors, Assail once more! Will you honor The oaths we swore?”   One thousand horsemen answer the call,   One thousand horsemen riding tall. One thousand horsemen, they prepare. One thousand horsemen, forth they fare.   “We have no word, Are we not heard? Are we forgot? Do you come not?”   “The terror hails, Our people quail! We are beset, Will you come yet?”   One thousand horsemen upon the hill, One thousand horsemen, duty they fill. One thousand horsemen make the climb. One thousand horsemen, are they in time?   “What do we hear? Is succor near? Have you arrived? Will we survive?”   “Hail faithful friend! Fear not an end! Our hope has come, Sound the war drum!”   One thousand horsemen, banners raised! One thousand horsemen, unafraid! ...
Read more

The Edge

By Cliff Lake
  The Edge   Out on the edge… This is where we exist, A precipice, A future unseen and unknowable, An edge we constantly walk. Here on the edge, We step forward blindly, Though we tell ourselves That we have planned well, But the future, Has no regard, For the mere mortal. Walking the edge, We may not see, What falls lie before us, What chasms may claim us, Nor how deeply they lurk. But know this: We have the strength, To climb out of darkness, If we but dare the edge again. Fear not brother! You are your own savior, If you but make the merest try. Do not despair sister! The unlooked-for hand, Will reach for you yet! Remember: From the bottom, The only way is up. Forward is the only motion, Time is allowed, In this frame we inhabit. It is the step to the side, That carries you down, Out here on the edge…   Straight ahead then - The path is before you.   Cliff Lake 2/24/2024 Copyrigh...
Read more

Used Up 'n Dried Up

By Cliff Lake
  Used Up ‘n Dried Up   You scurried away from your ancestral home, Let’s face it boy, you’re out there on loan. Your markers cashed in, no more favors to call, Winds of change blowing cold, house of cards to fall. Livin’ in a hotel, bumming dollars from the poor, Sellin’ your Chinese trinkets, maybe try it door to door. Your hands in everyone’s pockets, no more spare change for you, Keep on beggin’ at the dockets, that is what’s left to do.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what they said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “You’re out on the street, you’ve used up your cred.” “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what I said.   Oh, how you fell hard for that dictator, A long-time, well-known master baiter. He always had you pegged as some petty clown, Just look at how he has jerked you around.   “You’re on your own, kid.” That’s what he said. “You’re used up ‘n dried up; you’re bled.” “Look at this crooked path t...
Read more