Tag Archives: Hear

My Baby Does (day 2090)

Who makes me
My baby, my baby
Who leaves me
My baby, my baby
Who runs to me
My baby, my baby
Who hears everything I do
My baby, my baby
Who lies to me
My baby, my baby
Who works me
My baby, my baby
Who keeps me up at night
My baby, my baby
Who makes me howl loud
My baby, my baby
My baby, my baby
My baby, my baby

Crow’s Eyes (day 1718)

I remember when a crow flew
Into my eyes of fear
Leaving behind a little ghost
Who spoke words I did not want to hear.

But as I sat and steeped my tea
I could not gain my truth,
So little by little
An angry cry
Was heard above the rumble.

A cry that was not for pure peace,
A cry not from a babe,
My cry was loud and deliberate
My beak’d been getting black.

For when the grace of tempest’s blast
Ceased all ’round my hearth,
I whipped into such fury as
A devil burning brightly at my feet
Two eyes locked on mine, forevermore.

All the Same (day 1709)

Holes into nothing
And this is where I end.
Dropping as I awaken,
Say it again,
I didn’t hear you all the same.

And if I wake up
I am left to break up.
Minor chord progressions,
Like my heart,
It is the same song all the same.

Footsteps into distance
As my heart beats into resistance,
Does music still go on?
Is there an echo,
After all, it’s my memory all the same.

Counting (day 1650)

From my angle I wasn’t the nerd,
I had the best cold coffee
Settling in the bottom of my to-stay mug,
Rattling around the inside
Of my drastically hungry belly.
I had too many ideas to be passive
And in discourse with unfriendly patrons.

Why are you smiling at me, saying hello?
I’m on the other side of the room.
Can’t you see my furrow, blinded by dull lights?
Perhaps I’m the unfriendly one.

From my angle, I was the mission.
I had written the outline and
Focus was my middle name.
The timer was ticking and
I wasn’t wasting motivation
On Whiskey River in the Jar’O. 
I had water to accompany the drip.

Keep the lights low and let
This chaotic music recklessly skip
Into oblivion my cycling mind 
Which cannot refuse to be free.

From my angle I had a perfect view
Of both the flighty pixie,
Distracted with a proper stein,
And the siren gently calling my name.
I knew her, of course,
One of the few to break this furrow
And cause me to tarry by name.

Thus, I aggressively gather my activist heart
And settle my score with a battling pickaxe
And two shiny 2013 quarters
That rattle over the buzz and out the door.

Pitter Patter (day 1519)

Can you hear
Slow pitter patter
Of important
Heart matters
That restlessly
Find chitter chatter?

I heard of a girl
Who stole a mind
Left it for
Another kind.
Eenie meanie
Popped and grind.

Remain Calm (day 1333)

In the end of all of it I had a reason.
There were two dots crossed off a long list of imaginations
And the cowboy had everything left to lose should it fail.

But that wasn’t the event there that day, you see,
A long riflesman came staggering in as the town watched
Thinking to themselves about a memory they all-to-quickly refused to listen to.

I couldn’t help but think that I was an envelope,
A whisper sealed away awaiting some sort of lucky ticket holder.
My eyes remained calm as time’s length pushed on.

Crimson was the colour of noon’s high sun.
Picking pockets like a Bazaar thief in Catholic quarters;
The city clinched tighter.

There once was an island inside of my dreams,
Floating with unseen amounts of impossibilities.
I was homesick. I wasn’t allowed to be there anymore.

So for now they sang, in cool shade of a willow tree.
And a stable meant for their local butcher
Fed the gatherers, who all at once came.

Dust kicked up my hallow heart’s worms and sheered into the edge;
At once I was offered fine takings
And imagined I was an elder.

Valley’s Echo (day 1113)

Your heart is not a valley away,
Nor a diamond left unbought.
Though time discovers all our pain,
Lifting our sins to meet the eye,
To shatter history spent in plans.
To know is like a misspent truth;
To touch the wings of a butterfly;
To give up on the fight.
Where I’m left standing,
Yelling: “My heart is on my sleeve.”
Which I’m not here to wear,
I am here to give alone.
Where I hear the valley’s echo.

2013.08 - Mount Robson (61 of 496)

Anderson the Tender and Marianda Hamphretta Dalsento (day 753)

Mom, will I ever be able to fly?
-no dear, you do not have any wings
But, you can climb better than any bird

Mom, will I ever learn to sing a song?
-no dear, not like the birds that you hear
But, sounds you can make is music to my ears

Mom, are we really the devil’s animal?
-no dear, not anything near to it
But, it will do you good to be cautious of your ways

Mom, will I ever become bad and devil like?
-no dear, you’re heart will always be where you place it
But, that is not to say you can not become

Mom, will this tree always be our home?
-no dear, humans will cut these trees soon
But, we will move on and build a new home

Mom, will I always stay this small?
-no dear, you will grow up to be a very fine sloth
But, you must remember to eat your vegetables to ensure it

Mom, can we stay here for a while?
-yes dear, I like it just where we are

aSloth

Anderson and Marianda can be purchased here.

And We Went On (day 396)

Perhaps there was. a situation
When the flowers. did fade
When the ides did march and
The circles did stop
In the amazing swirls of air
That infiltrated all that we. could see
Could feel, could hear,
And we went on