Dreams can die together
They are viral
Every intertwined
Dreams can grow forever
They are vital
Slow to unwind
She who is the speaker of her dreams
Should not be scorned
Embolden this world do not lessen
You have been warned
The dreams which you dismiss
The dreams which the crowd denies
Is that which in perpetuity is lost
And all that loss implies
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
The waterfall knows no equanimity
In early spring it rages
From the remnants of melting snow
In fall it is bone dry
Depleted
From the heat of the scorching summer
In winter it is still
The water cold and iced upon its rocks
The effort is
Throughout the seasons
To keep the waterfall in your mind
From early summer
When it is steady
Calm
Flowing
The water will escape its state
It always does
As will you
The effort is holding
Equanimity in your mind
When late spring is gone
And the water is a storm
Or drought
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
I’m trying not
To always get
Distracted by
Shiny new things
To embrace what I’ve got
And to let
Myself see
What joy that brings
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Two thousand thirteen
Passed like a fever dream
This year containing
Love loss joy and rage
View time as a guideline
Not a cage
Gene G. Mclaughlin 2013
When emaciation had taken its toll
His eyes were sunken in, closed, and hollow
The life slipping from them slowly
Understanding was no closer
All that was left for him was the end
The final stages of the suffering that haunted him
The hunger that held tight to him in these final moments
The desire and want and need
All would be gone soon
Nothing was left to take
Nothing was left to give
The last step was the loss of what he saw before him
The blood slowly coursed through him
He opened his eyes
The tree and air and grass and sun all were in front of him
This was the moment
Maybe this had always been the moment
Maybe this would always be the moment
There was color in the world
There was a color in all things
There was the dark red of his blood
There was the brown bark of the tree
There was the green of the grass
There was the golden yellow of the sun
There was the white swirling wind of the storm of existence
Lingering and circling in the air around all of it
There were his eyes
Through which his slowly diminishing life force met the storm
He faced the end
He saw the storm was not actually white
The storm was all colors
The storm was everything at once
The storm was always there
He had never seen the storm
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Emma Bovary’s Facebook posts in the modern day
Remain ever misconstrued
Her tweets don’t express the love with which they
Are carefully imbued
That which emerges and disrupts
Might not affirm and renew
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Sometimes I can’t get the magic out
Wonder is absent from me
So I rise to my feet for a walkabout
To find the obscured I could not see
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
She’s got a coexist bumper sticker
On her hybrid car
She’s had seen Widespread shows
Where things went way too far
She don’t believe in Jesus
But acts like she does
Because a ministers daughter
Is still what she was
In her younger years
She had some trouble with blow
It’s the nights that get late to fast
It’s the people you know
She does lots of yoga
To smooth out the nerves
It usually works
Least it maintains her posture and curves
She’s got a daughter she loves
And ex that she don’t
She tells her parents she’ll marry again
But she knows that she won’t
She’s got good intentions
In actions and deeds
A job and a small ranch house
Most of what she needs
She’s got a boyfriend
On alternating weekends
He spent time in the desert
He’s quiet and still seeking
An answer to what happened
Or at least a good night sleep
He doesn’t complain much
She don’t dig to deep
They watch a movie
Or make shrimp and grits
Sometimes they hold hands
Watching the cats clean for ticks
The mountains are quiet
They have few opinions
In the hills behind her
There grows mint and wild onions
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
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