Caution (She's Gone)

Eyes be warned
You’re going to watch her go
Out of the warm, into the storm
Time to shade the sight away
 
Tears be warned
You’re going to slowly fall
Out of the glands, into empty hands
Time to issue a big box of tissue
 
Feet be warned
You’re going to take a hike
Out of her life, into strife
Time to reinforce your soul
 
Heart be warned
You’re going to explode
Catching the flak from the attack
Time to schedule surgery
 
Brain be warned
You’re going to disbelieve
Out of your mind, into the grind
Time to address what you repress
 
Bed be warned
You’re going to feel empty
Out of together into forever
Time to stay, never be made
 
Gut be warned
You’re going to get wrenched
No more satisfaction, wretch reaction
Time to regret and get upset
 
Hands be warned
You’re going to be wringing
Clenched in a ball, into the wall
Time to cling, oh wretched ring
 
Arms be warmed
You’re going to be lonely
Out of embracing, now just a-wasting
Time to let go of all you know
 
Lips be warned
You’re going to be drying
What was the finest is merely a minus
Time to be missing what you’ve been kissing
 
Ears be warned
You’re going to sound hollow
Out of sweet harmony into an enemy
Time to tune into an echo
 
By Royce Waxenfelter
11.28.23

Insert Apology

Stout walls surround me, to advice I’m not adhering
I’m still right here where you found me, but you long to forge ahead to greater things
 
I won’t grow or move or heed to any wisdom
That’s not who I am, not part of my kingdom
Now you won’t ever see me eye to eye
Because the walls of my heart are solidified
 
As stubborn as a mule, I’m not listening
As sure as the gloss on your lips is still glistening
It’d take all the king’s men and horses to budge me
So if you want it baby, here, insert apology
 
Stout walls surround me, to advice I’m not adhering
I’m still right here where you found me, but you long to forge ahead to greater things
 
A donkey makes a choice to stand his ground
I stomp and scream and get so mad my fists will pound
There’s a glorious prize waiting just beyond the hill
But I’d have to relinquish my pride, give up my persistent will

As broken as the vase I threw down on the floor
But I won’t cry when you decide you’re out the door
It won’t take long to get to know my depths, consider me
And if you want to baby, here, insert apology
 
It’s not part of my mindset or biology
So if you expect it baby, here, insert apology
 
By Royce Waxenfelter
11.28.23

Heaven Bound

My eyes have seen your face
Your face reveals the glory 

Your hands are full of grace
Your arms reach out to me

My sins have been erased 
My heart no longer mourns

I’m going to leave this place 
I can’t run fast enough

Beyond all time and space 
I’m coming home to you

By Royce Waxenfelter 
11/21/23

The Iron in Irony

Taking a stroll down to the village wrapped in a mystical fog

I trip and, from my muddy landing, see it was a log

My shoulder, is it out of joint? My lip bleeds a stream of pain

Should I be surprised the skies decide to open up and rain?

 

What a day it turned out to be, what a day to discover

What a time to learn I can’t trade it for another

What a fallacy to think of life so positively

As I grope about so blindly through this reality

 

The doctor is out, the assistant tells me it is just a sprain

So I race toward the station to try and catch my train

You may guess what I missed, indeed by mere seconds

The empty tracks symbolize my lifelong empty lessons

 

What a moment this time befell

As my sprained shoulder shrugs oh well

I give up and turn to frustrated apathy

Should I perhaps invite it in to abide permanently?

 

The walk home drizzly as I gnaw my leaking lip

The slight incline prods muscles to seize around my hip

Passersby splash mudpuddles upon my weary head

How I long to be at home in my cozy bed

 

What a dreadful normality, what a dreary day

What a shock for my arch nemesis to happen by and say,

“The train you missed, my dear chap, if you were to catch it,

I had planned in my benevolent way to finally bury the hatchet.”

 

Did he know my limp was at its worst

My shoulder’s drooping like a curse

An oasis I can see but not achieve

The promise of forgiveness taunting me

 

What a notion of perspective sight, what a mixed emotion

A mermaid floats nonchalantly by as I am drowning in the ocean

A full life, full of disappointing me

The blood in my mouth tastes bitter of the iron in irony

 

By Royce Waxenfelter

11.15.23