Decaffeinated

With neither teeth nor flavour
This ersatz brown beverage
Seeps through no veins
Awakens no senses
But with a shadow
Of breakfasts past
I miss my coffee
The taste of the real thing
Mornings gritty with
Coarse-ground broken beans
That stick in your teeth
Mug brewed hot and strong
To stand the spoon
Propping up tired limbs
That still stretch bedward
On a cloud of fragrant steam
Drooping head arrested
Upheld as surely as a
Marionette – strings and rod
Tied to a demitasse
Backbone taut to face the day
Tangy aftertaste to chase
Faint cobwebs of dreams
Back to their dark corners
Warm breath, parted lips
Gently smile and
Blow them all away
Take a sip, savour the jolt
A reminder you have awoken
And things may now follow
Their usual groove

Choices

A quiet rebellion
Begins not with a thought
But a breath
Once we understand
That we are breathing
That there is a choice
Of the next few moments
Inhale, exhale, pause
What comes next?
It is not noble to require
The choice be made
On our behalf
Always.
We are not chattel
And even livestock
Retain some power
So what’ll it be?
To breathe? To wait?
Do we starve the brain
Or do we nourish it?
And to what end?