Karma Tonic: Chapter 40: Hiccup

A minute long hiccup

Was it scotch or buttercup?

A threat to scupper the night

Or a simple recall, lovely and bright.

Who recalls me?

A fiend, a pal, a lovely crush

A rialto in the past

The neighbor’s parrot,

Green and slush

Button up that minute

It was just a hiccup 

Karma Tonic: Chapter 39: That Word

Theory of head that turns mute

Whistle that sounds futile

Wind turns thin, recorded docile

Weight on toes, words are stuck

A push from the gut,

Why don’t you just duck?

Pay me some crumbs; I’ll lend you the word

Story in a pot, head to swirl

Dynamics of business, you sound so nerd

Hands fall in pocket,

Eventually,

Where’s that word?

Karma Tonic: Chapter 38: Nomad

“Nostalgia in reverse, the longing for yet another strange land, grew especially strong in spring.” 

― Vladimir Nabokov, Mary

Nomad in house, homeless to leave

Pack the childhood, lock that love

A town unknown, a scheduled flight

Platonic nameplate, bin to hide

A new land to chase let go off the chain

Lunatic on fire, in scrutiny of peace

Water to death, snake to fear

Oh my love, am I still here?

Look professor, something is still happening

Love to cherries, root to beat

Do you see the rope in the street?

Bah, I am no mad, a new retreat,

Fancy the peace?

Aah, I am nomad.

Karma Tonic: Chapter 37:Before I Go

So many thoughts, gliding each day

Pulled by the sleeves, past fell like a prey

Uncooked Pinki Swear, tossed in array

A year down yonder, love turned stray.

That lake by the house glittered like a ray

You were shining around the petals, it didn't look gay

Moon knew my fear, but it dare not say

Promises were high, like tides in the bay

Balcony was coy, whether night or day

An abhorring kick and it fell far far away.

Faith slumbered like needle in the hay

Blood benumbed, even churns during the day

Hurts till Sunday, hardly makes a way

A letter today, before I go away,

There’s a doorway in the heart

Where memories will always stay

Now you're telling me, you're not nostalgic

Then give me another word for it, you who are so good with words

And at keeping things vague, because I need some of that vagueness now

It's all come back too clearly, yes I loved you dearly

And if you're offering me diamonds and rust, I've already paid.

- Joan Baez, Diamonds & Rust

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