The Battlefield

The battlefield exists in my head

The combatants are regrouping

Re-arming for their next attack

The home team takes comfort in what they can see

The logical progression of familiar scenes

Narrated in crisp tones with familiar dialogue

While the visitors nod with knowing smirks

That behind the scenes a chorus of naiads

Suggest other worlds in their songs


If you choose to listen to this seductive siren

Be prepared for swift ascent to a world of ephemeral joy

And a precipitous plunge to despair

So my Head coach cautions

The sirens sing not only for you

They sing for whoever is fool enough to listen to their melodies

And often their sweet harmony will take you down unintended paths

Betraying your trust for their own gratification.


The battlefield languishes

The combatants bide their time

When hope is at its highest

When I am start to utter victorious words

They will once again take their places

Brandish their cruel weapons

Camouflaged in beguiling images

Destroying certainty confounding rational thought.


Zombieland isn’t half as bad as reputation alludes

The place I have in mind is a mindless boring pit

but looking better by the day

half way there by lunch tomorrow

No more crying jags that last 2 hours

No more disappointments, no more slammed doors

No more ambushed dreams


Just a numbing inertia- driven tub of dulled

nerve endings shrouded by molasses thick apathy.

Sight dimmed by dusty cobwebs.

Ears tuned to the ordinary.

Thoughts never straying to dangerous places.

Hopes abandoned.

Sweet thoughts erased.


Last flicker dimmed deprived of air

choking on truth afflicted with blindness

what is real, what is imagined

matters not when all is gone forever

many painful losses should have paved the way

for this most hurtful time of all

Abandoned, lost, no more trust to give.


Cruel irony played a trick

when blindsided by a passion

never dreamed of feeling

Whimsical fates intervened

upending my ordered world

adding unanswered longings to a

newly wakened sensibility


So my friend you see that

Zombieland is meant for one like me

a perfect fit for an imperfect heart

that lost direction while seeking nothing at all.

that lost her mind to the riddles never solved

and handed her soul to a stranger.

now waiting for oblivion.