If lights of day
Took me away
Would I close my eyes to dream?
And if this bright
Far off light
Should cease to be my guide,
Then who – if any,
Would be my star
And lead me on my way?
Category: nature
Exactly 29 Times (day 988)
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.
Heavy Focus (day 987)
A heavy burden which closes my eyes
Shifts and whirls and slowly dies
When focus determines
It’s absolute vermin
And heaven reveals its shiny blue skies
Recollection (day 986)
New shocks reverberate through my unwritten scores
Losing patterns fast
Into voids that ebb and flow
Lost transactions
Translations
Focused thought floating into ether
Weighted
Tied in to
Lied
And reminded every single day
Until a murder of crows
Takes flight
From which all is found
Recollected
Little Almonds (day 985)
Little almonds
Roll down
Grassy knolls
To find
Empty hands
Waiting
Like eyes
Of a newborn
Distant Rays (day 984)
If the sun broke my heart,
Would it shine on in?
Would my splintering fragments
Fray like a hand tied bushel?
Could you bare to see the day
Which evanescent hot rays
Left sour marks upon my boiling skin?
Scouring pure innocence
With marks of the future.
Unsold and Awaiting (day 979)
Unsold and awaiting
I’m lost, un-masterpiece
Untended beside grand grapevines
To the spiders weaving webs
Crawling slowly over
Minding cracks with every inch
Dishing out my good vibes
To sun, forever strong
I take my time maturing
Beyond what’s seen, known
Night’s Delicate Dance (day 976)
Maybe we balanced our cross-hairs when we sent our whispers into night’s air.
A long, hollow howl,
A song to our own dainty ears,
Wishing for night to tarry while bringing us sleep
Footsteps reaching horizons edge, so evenly spaced so late in the day.
How did we manage,
How many words were pure thoughts,
Lingering ’bout our hesitant breaths like foxglove in the summer.
My moon silhouetted your name-sake tree, standing afar tall and proud.
Bloodline crawls down stony steps to waters edge,
Breaking off into still, deep black abyss
Waiting to find another whisper.
Protest Poetry (day 975)
What was the arctic before it became an oil well?
What was a forest overrun with trees?
What was my name before I was a sibling?
What was my right before I’d been stamped?
Did I come straight from a hologram?
Was I brought home on a road?
Whence and where from did the light come?
And the warmth, did it come before gas, painted and housed within four block walls of a thousand pixels per inch?
Where did I walk to before a wood chipped trail led my way?
How did the day fill before the calendar?
Can a city be a city without city lights?
How did one tarry about a late night corner before floating electric drones showed I was withing safety?
Because dammit, I’m starting to wonder
Is there any point in the quest?
What is the point in stuffing our bellies?
Where did the idea of nik-naks come hither from?
How did function get replaced by aesthetics?
When did choice become demand?
When did want become a dire need?
Why did our brothers and sisters turn from extensions of ourselves to examples of our desires?
When did we lose all of our trust?
And where has my community resettled?
Where has my tree grown its roots?
Where is my moon?
This is a protest poem
Teach Me the Moment of That (day 972)
Teach me the moment of that.
The moment we collided
In an orchestral orgasm,
Ecstasy of fragrants and essences…
And soft music blowing
Leaves in a swirl about our thoughts
That hang like spring rainclouds.
Teach me the moment of that.
Where I walk on the balls of my feet
Through soft summer warmed sand.
Seagulls walking quietly, lazily,
Hand in hand with sunglasses and oversized hats
That smile at most all things,
And run home to.