Category: inward

Guiding Archangels (day 1003)

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We each remember our stories just a little bit harder
– A little bit longer in tooth –
With vinegar to keep infection afar.
And in our judgement, our fantasy act
We search for crime, and it’s partner punishment
To soothe our broken bones that lay
About the floor in disarray.
But as lost is all that has begun
If for whatever reason we hold onto none
Then let our hearts beat madness
Pitter-pattering our footsteps forth
Into cold days of snowy forgiveness
That crawl away as we push back the tears
Singing sweet songs to our guiding Archangels

Photo by: Ludovic Florent
Photo: Innocence by Ludovic Florent

From this Ledge (day 1000)

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From this ledge I looked out beyond,
I surveyed the stillness.
Waiting,
Expecting,
Un-avoiding brief glimpses
Of society’s marks;
Transport trucks rumbling
In and out of earshot.

From this ledge I held onto a hand,
I held on so tight to remind me
That in spite surmountable distances,
In spite out-of-control conveniences
I wasn’t alone here;
Alone in my thoughts.
This wasn’t my diary,
This was my acceptance refusal.

From this ledge I plotted.
I took every hemlock and spruce
Inside my heart and nurtured their spirit
To grow with me as I carved my initials
Into their supple skin, raw so real;
Nature entwined my soul and became me
And I became it.
And I lept from this ledge with eyes wide open.

StawamusChief-2011-06-04 (149 of 310)

Bare Hands (day 998)

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When my sun rises over East
I sit at my bench and wait
And whisper to my gods in prayer
To bring me all their rain
So that I can find the strength
To hold my head high again
And if my bare hands I shake
That worked the earth for seven long days
Should hold in them a crying shame
Then it shall be for me, forever rain
To wipe away these falling tears
Before my sun sets again
From my bench I sit and wait

Love Isn’t Four Letters (day 996)

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Love isn’t four letters
Love doesn’t crawl up on hands and knees in chocolate
Love doesn’t smell like roses
Love doesn’t have a long lineup at the checkout
Love isn’t singular
Love isn’t fleeting

Love wakes up every day and sleeps with the moon
Love is expression
Love is happy even when there is no love
Love is a sparkle in the eyes
Love is a name about ones tongue
Love is a feeling

Current’s Edge (day 990)

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I walk my freedom with long bold steps
– Passionate about underlying rocks,
Saturated in air; fluid, full, exhilarating –
To my captures edge: sin and sorrow.
“DEFINE MY PATH!” From the tops of my lungs,
Knocking at doors of suffering madness
That tied these knots upon my bare feet.
It’s a long walk along hurt’s path,
A long breath to hold, withdraw,
With destiny, located amidst rubble.

It’s a long walk to freedom,
Blistering sores and stained reason.
Along my gall’s edge I protest,
Along gall’s edge I step,
And in this path I do not quiver,
I do not shake with torrent sadness,
For to my edge [my sin and sorrow],
I stare with will, my choice and I,
Into the void, my current’s capture,
And let flow from the tops of my lungs.

Exactly 29 Times (day 988)

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Mystically speaking, the proverbs are relating accurately;
Horizontally strengthened with the thinnest of threads
Circled around my baby finger exactly 29 times
In a very tightly strewn pattern, accidentally.

Insomniac. Running at top speeds with wild horses;
That old farmhouse sitting amongst poppies and buttercups
Where I’ve lived once before; a feeling from depths unexplainable
Leveraging it’s way amongst modernities.

So it was a callused palm that broke this frozen spell;
Alone upon a park bench of inner city, inner beauty,
Brook bubbling by with homeless and suits (much quicker)
An eye awoke to stretch it’s glorious wings wide.

To which I had never encountered before;
To who I had never held hands with before;
To where I had never stepped in and amongst before;
To here, to this home of a quietly broken fear.

Berlin - 25062012 (42 of 51)