Paperweight Poetry

How can I fall asleep  When there are so many questions yet to be asked Swirling and twirling like ballerinas in my mind How can I fall asleep When there are so many things to be learned Like blind spots in my vision as I stumble in my ignorance  How can I fall asleep When there are so many things left unsaid  Like words you cannot hear that just echo into the void. -anna sluder

I wonder if there are paper people  That fly all of the paper planes  To tell other paper people Of their paper love That is written in ink Across their paper hearts.  -anna sluder

Water is wine And weeds are flowers Ignorance is fine But bliss is for an hour.  -anna sluder

He lost his soul In the callous blue tide He grieved when he thought of it being tossed, torn, and rolled So he searched the ocean wide But by the time he had swam every river and waterfall He reliazed perhaps he never had a soul at all. -anna sluder

The poor always ride the back of the train So that they are forced to see all that is pulling away And then the rich can look forward, to the sun Forget the shadows still suffering and run. -anna sluder

Thin bones jut out of his ribcage like stems  Frazzled blood vessels cracking across his skin like petals Body quaking, soul shaking  Earthquakes rattling his bones  Upheaving the garden bed  As his clothes shred in the wind  Tornadoes grinding through his stomach  Abdomen rumbling and thundering  Rip tides in his eyes, flooding the pits  Of sunken cheekbones like valleys  "Change sir, please, could you spare a little change" Wavering and quivering like a blade of grass in the breeze The clinking bottle of amber liquid sloshing against the glass Like a dew drop on a blade of grass An accessory from the rain, from the tears  I offer him my wallet in unlocked fingers on an open palm "Do you want change?"  "Yes sir" His lips cracked into a smile estranged  I tug the bottle out of his gripping fingers "Or do you want change?"  -anna sluder

Don't weep when the gate hits you from behind Be thankful that at least in the garden you are inside  Don't complain when the only way to joy is through pain  For it is like praying for flowers and cursing the rain.  -anna sluder