Tag Archives: Arm

Ode to Darkness (day 1910)

Your sweet cloak, my serenity;
My forever once again
Lasting into comfort zen.
My vision slowly blurring
Into fuzzy warmth of my sleepy hallow.
And the day flickers back
Upon swift coattails of your speed,
I – licking gently at scars
To perform my holistic lobotomy,
Wrap my strong arms around you,
Curl my long legs beside you,
And release my control,
For you are my omnipresent
Singing so sweetly.

Lonely Moon (day 1804)

Lonely moon and my heart. Do you ever wonder where to start? So I dip my toes and fix my tie and pretend that my head’s held high because then there’ll be a judging man waiting for a hand to feed a plan and I’m begging with open arms and eyes a gazing for the sweet blossom of my year.

Dusty Old Artifacts (day 1748)

I believed just so strongly that you would be the one
So much so that I chairiscuro’d my heart into day and night,
Night and day.
So longing with my open arms I stood uninterested,
Drooping at edges of my sanity
That left holes so deeply imprinted into my unknown matter
I had successfully reprinted what I’d callously called
“Out of Stock.”
Now? Now I would like to re-brand my interests,
Remove all the old artifacts that so delicately had collected
Dusty particles of my memory,
And remind myself how little it mattered in the end –
Dust being all that could sprinkle our dearest dreams –
As raindrops came tumbling down upon a rainbow I’d ignited.
So my desert teardrops exclaimed to my heartbeat, strong,
Oh this desperado desolato,
In an anguish that I could not anticipate…
Because spring had not yet sprung.

Holiday Basket (day 1648)

Sometimes I just want to call you my own,
Hold you into my arms to roll you into my soul.
I’m not going out tonight anymore,
Instead I’ll be boiling sweet tea for just two.
This is me trying for the best of my life
And I will not tire of you on my mind
Because you are what I want for my own.
How little you know of the feeling that grows,
Place a hand on your cheek, look into your eyes.
Your moon is my sun, your breath is my wind,
And I am here now, your hand in my hand,
Off to the moon or a little more slow,
Along with the ways of the sun in our souls.

I Cried (day 1644)

On the edge of my post they cried.
They sat down in a semi circle
With legs crossed and arms placed
Calmly about their laps
And sang to me with eyes closed
And angelic voices reaching from
Stern to bow.
There was an unanswered echo
That leapt from a good cause
To an outstanding motif
Highlighted in the sun.
Whence my eyes swept from
Juxtapose to just a reason
And calmly reminded myself
I was upon the edge of my post
Until they cried.

I Am So Beautiful (day 1635)

I, I am so beautiful
Land floating on a wing
Sun shares a sweet song

I, I am so beautiful
Mind here at your feet
Shelter in my arms

I, I am so beautiful
Beginning in warm sand
Off into light wind

I, I am so beautiful
Growth upon my limb
Cycles of this land.

Depths of Un-Answers (day 1465)

Deep sunk my undertow
Lay out claws
That pull apart
My open soul –
Pins about my arms.
Place crawling ants
At my feet
Where I wont fall
Into those clasps;
End your heart into
Steaming piles of crustations,
And let it fall apart
Into depths of un-answers.

Ashram Day 27 (day 1430)

Here I call out your name
Into our empty guest bedroom;
We’ll never be the same
In the ol’plantation tree.
Listen to these windows
Into each others arms,
Passing through blue sunsets
Mistaken for innocent faith;
Unsuspecting memories
And I’ve drawn out your name.

A Tigers Growl (day 1228)

You’re drivin’ fine baby
With those blonde curly locks
Deep cut with blazing canons
I feel your fire
And it’s not just those eyes
Darting lightening bolts
Around this lame room
Cheap roses curling around your arm
Inked into the desert sands
That have blown across your skin
I want to feel those fine
Black leather pants
As they slide to the ground
Crumpled about your ruby red toes
Those five inch matte black pumps
A tiger’s growl baby
Is no more powerful than that snarl
Luscious red fully bloomed lips
And hand crafted pearly whites
Baby, what’s your name?

Walking Tall (day 1028)

He walked away and he wasn’t walking tall
He shrouded and hunkered;
Fixed and determined and leaving.
Under one arm was clutched a notebook
Used regularly for scribblings and incidentals,
The other held nothing:
Bare, sober, exposed.
Not waving or weighing, but tucked neatly inside
A warm and worn pocket
Reserved for the odd receipt.
But mostly for his hand, unconsciously scrunched
Into a ball that hardly swayed
As his slouch carried him away.

 

London - 052012 (79 of 302)

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