It is no longer passion
That inflames my thoughts
Your effervescence always near
Though they linger while
I take my breath
Of morning air so clear.
What’s left is what makes
Sun so hot
Tracing edges of earth’s day
A silent smile budding
Like a fruiting tree
A sun soaked sigh so gay.
Time floats by in reverie
Visions clearly refined for me
Even ravens as they fly overhead
Hold messages of thee
And so shall be my memory
All thoughts shall rest thus wed.
Tag: thought
Disturb Me (day 2093)
Stir my cesspool of random thoughts
That hold each of my ears wide
Collecting bits of random chaos;
Ricochet through a knotty web
Like the tangled mass hairs on my head
Have spun about my brain;
Shift my gears into 5th
As we barrel down a dirt road at midnight
With the lights cut.
Is Peace a Dance? (day 2061)
If you were at peace
Would you find the motivation to move on?
Would you step away
Wreck your thoughts
For a better way?
How many moons must smile at your soul
Before the sun begins to rise
With you on it’s mind?
Does peace found ever stay a while?
Does it last into our silence?
Does it come along
Through the wind so free?
Does it catch you in a dance?
Down Turned Reverberations (day 1912)
You know, it’s ok.
It doesn’t matter that the sky seems to fall when you stretch your eyes wide at the beginning of a new day. It doesn’t matter that the tangle in your heart matches the tangle of your long, curly, brown hair drooping about your itchy nose as you fling from side to side with a worn out cactus shirt reaching down to the same legs you rest your morning coffee on.
I’ve found a reason that doesn’t rely on these silly momentary things. I’ve found the silk road, pock marked by moths with an unsettling history that left a lot of sad pages in the brown covered diary I’ve never re-read. I’ve begun to maneuver this silk pressing just as I would walking through busy streets or desert, dry mouthed and heart fleeting as beats reverberate off of every single thought.
It’s ok.
It’s a revolution that cannot get taken away, it’s the dull side of a newly sharpened axe. How many rows have you planted to become the star lit sky we all look up to; arms are better for hugging then the cold glass walls modern giants embed their soldiers within.
You’re not the only one with down turned memories of what we could never see, never hear, never even share from the distance we watch each other from – but our morning smells seem to remind us of nothing but the closeness we have; but evening silence is a feeling we so easily forgive.
It’s ok, and I’m never really very far.
Dry (day 1891)
Rain, an unending apathy
Soaking away my desire
Feeding my inward voice
To a soothing fire
Of warm socks and books
To take all thoughts
Bundled away by leather strap
Into a tent listlessly blowing,
Heaving and relenting
For a softer night dry.
Delicacy Bare (day 1801)
Remember my delicacy
A tip-toe on the tip of your nose
I worked a thread
As it came bare
Into my arcing back.
I sang a song with misery,
It was my comfort bare,
It left a tail upon my thought
And there it wags
In constellations.
Unnecessary Badges (day 1699)
I have begun to soften unnecessary badges of my heart,
Little lines that string my thoughts together
And bury desires and dreams into unnecessary angles.
World keeps turning and I’m crouching down,
Closing my eyes and embracing an uncertainty, insanity,
That’s lost sense in my sturdy hands.
My unnecessary badges and I have lost you –
Which isn’t going to change the moon or sun,
Which isn’t going to flutter my heart any more.
So I carried this unnecessary badge in my pocket,
Two white squares and one measured and cast circle.
Pulling upon corners of a my little lines,
And tangling my dreams because I love you.
Cold Personalities (day 1688)
I’m undone,
Crisscrossing paths
Of two strangers
Among many stranger,
Colder personalities.
Could a wind
Possibly blow
In opposite directions
At the same time,
Splitting thoughts
Outlined with questions
And forgetting to
Count down from ten
After panic strikes in.
Marigold (day 1527)
I was a gale, like others could,
I came to life ever so lived.
And in the wandering hours I had,
I chanced upon a new found friend
Who wore the colors of my heart
Up and down her train of thought.
And in the evening sun we beamed,
Her every moment flowed and went,
At once nestling amongst her friends,
Then alone, betwixt my hand and hers.
We sat in silence for a while,
Adjusting and detecting all,
Like a playful waltz in time,
My marigold, at last, was mine.
Spray My Skin (day 1510)
Winds blow my thoughts
Where I let go.
Sun holds my gaze
Though sight hazy.
Sea sprays my skin
To tingle inhale,
And heart knows all
As self is held tight.