I was asked to become a guardian
Down low, down low, in a bottom of mud.
Too late, I said,
Coughing and excusing myself;
Toxicity had taken control
Of my asthma, uncontrollably
Letting my lungs flank
Sides of this yellow pole.
I smiled nicely
At the man who said something,
But to him, I wasn’t listening,
I was to busy snoring.
Excuse me, I said,
Under my breath
And a fly came and landed
Above my head,
So I moved on again, up high, up high.
Tag: high
Night Air (day 1790)
I’ve got anger seeping into my blue blood veins
Letting animosity fuel this deep inside fire
This isn’t dragging me down, boy, hell no.
For the sky’s calling me higher then high.
This is a lesson of life with a cruel world twist,
But no man’s heart has ever been softer
Nor shall erosion get at it’s strength.
No, this is a quest in growth,
With a battle-cry ringing out in cooling night air.
Ode to the Clouds (day 1760)
In all my years of traveling days
You’ve been there by my side,
Led me ahead when I’ve been lost
Followed me close as I ran fast.
And when I pause to give you space
You’ve never let me down,
You’ve always shown me in animate
Horses and dinosaurs and ducks, sure!
Amidst visions I’ve of you,
Crumbling, rumbling, rambling and full.
Breaking and spitting and spinning too
To bring me closer yet, to you.
So when you are my lungs, I am all yours,
When you are so high, so far,
You are my dreams I send afar,
And when my sleepy eyes first wake,
It’s to the sky I send my morning eyes.
Into My Sky (day 1388)
I’m allowed to fly.
I am going to grab a star so high.
I put out my hand
To feel your every move again.
Can you hear the wind
Let out its breath into the sky.
Can you love me any more?
Can you let your love fly high above.
Come and dance and spin.
Come and let the world take you in.
Walk into my arms.
Look into my heart that’s never done.
Brownstone Raindrops (day 1196)
Memories found in the smell of your skin;
I’m the glass biting straw.
I’d be inward as you shone on pretty;
A spin and a twirl just as high as I remember.
Wondering as I do, as I move close to see.
Like your arms always tingle in the end:
I’ve found the way to get through the day,
And light crawls through the room.
Breath upon my neck is a happiness I’ve been warned,
Just a slip away is all I’m left to pray.
For today the brownstone soldiers lapping my wake
Share the dominant raindrops I’ve just escaped.
Dreaming of Singing (day 1100)
A range of extremes rushing through my heart
Billows and swells my emotions alive.
So I, all exposure; wind at my neck,
Look to the distance with dreamy eyes sans regret.
Moments that crawl deep in mud
Shaking mystery free from it’s longing and clutching grasp.
A sad song sung alone, echoing off towering cliffs.
A sweet song sung on a bellowing clarinet.
Could you lie to me just a little bit longer?
Rush to my head on a caffeinated high.
Your sprouts in my garden are light in my eyes,
And singing alone’s become quite obscene.
Thought Battles Clutter (day 705)
When the fury of time
Grips down on your mind
Cursing your veins
Panic holds the reins
Breath becomes shorter
Thought battles clutter
Heat builds inside
Mind flirting high
These battling moments
Painstaking engagements
Are where men arise
And children will die
With hard grit teeth
Throw away, impeach!
Throw off this shell
Begone with hell!
Rage from our eyes
Come alive, don’t die!
Charge on, smartly forth
Take heed of the course
Blondes and Guns (day 522)
A romantic getaway that lends itself to a high action thriller
One of those old ’70s flicks that fills in with browns
Flowy Farah Fawcett hair that shimmers in the sun
And blows in the wind from the partially opened window
A silence that is foreign amongst the wooden paneling
Floral bedspread with a mysterious darkness coming from the underneath area
The type that really makes you genuinely scared to look under the bed
Duty for only the strong to survive
Waves in the distance, too far to be heard
But glimmering in the distance as the canvas lawn-chairs squeak under the weight
Seagulls busily spread their wings across the horizon
Sunscreen smelling strong around the edges of this cold tasty beer
It’s a romantic scene in our high action thriller
The rare moments the cars are ignored and domination plots are set aside
An obligatory scene but oh so necessary to sway the testosterone
Since blondes and guns make the world go round