Yesterday I was a man
Today I have no sin
A better man,
A bigger name,
Confessed and over spent.
Am I awake?
I’ve pinched myself
I see with my two eyes.
Yet here I sit
Under used
And selling ideas
For a much bigger plan.
Tag: awake
At Nothing Rest (day 1670)
I’ve left my full moon walking the shoreline, skirting the tides that flush out madness awake and away.
Can your heart feel the holy trinity at rest?
Rocks I picked up and felt cursing through my palm left light stains upon my fingerprints I had washed thoroughly before opening my eyes. I laid down and felt the uncomfortable massage upon my twisted back and hoped the pain would soon ease its way back toward the crashing ocean cooling my pride.
Here, from my breasts, a light slowly eroded my choice.
Lightly brushing my consciousness were scattering rocks and squawking seagulls rummaging the midday sun like a busy squirrel exercising it’s memory.
I was gone, and this is what was left.
Memories on the Wall (day 1624)
Smooth charcoal edges coated a tingling memory
That laid beside a warm body glowing.
It took foreign dust on antique chairs
And unraveled a long robe onto a cement floor
With cold toes and blue lips.
And at once, the abrupt end of this ceremony,
Captured by a small jagged and a little dot,
Returned to the inanimate wall
Struggling to stay awake.
Awake Art (day 1583)
This is my awake art.
This is breath and stretching loudly
While pouring everything strong
Into a collapsed set of lungs
To be prepared for an avalanche
Of oncoming strategies
And cross-hooks
Set to dazzle
Even the most magnificent of
Gentleman preachers
Standing atop
Wooden keg soapboxes.
Awake (day 1540)
When I’m awake I find balancing points
That trickle down through clouds and metaphors
Like sapphire jewels having a field day in stage lights.
I watch children sprinkle their knees with pixie dust
And women walking with protest signs
Covered in bloody tampons.
I cover my muesli in chia seeds and hemp hearts
Because I believe in a well balanced diet,
And stay up late at night with my lover, naked,
Talking about what turns us on.
When I’m awake I’m a well versed man
Who believes in a conversation
That can change the world,
And as I do this I break down my understanding
Of how the world can change.
I’ll always believe,
I’ll always buy second hand and resell what I don’t need
To a kind soul with a good home,
I’ll always enjoy gardens that feed my mind, body and soul
Like a calming glass of water,
I’ll always walk with my heart open,
And if that doesn’t make me balanced,
Then it’s sink or swim for me
In this world spinning like an old Russian top.
And I’m not afraid to admit that I’m not awake all the time
Because fuck, we all need balance.
Return (day 1528)
Return my mouth of suffering;
Return to a place where a brook lightly flows,
Where footsteps – delicately laid –
Digress with foggy mountain hillsides
Tangled deep amidst rose bushes,
Willow whips, cedars wide and pine needles fallen.
Return my mind to awake and aware,
Where fluttering wings present
Gusts of wind amidst tiny chatter from illustrious nutcrackers.
Return me to my home –
Nestled among wild things,
For ohana lives there.
Namaskar, Namaskar, Namaskar.
Blank Slate (day 1321)
I fall awake into the absence of your hands,
Shaking dust into stray beams of sunlight
As I whisper back and forth
With my memory, so strong.
I pull your innocence into my heart
In every deep pull of Chardonnay
Quietly fluttering my anxious wings,
Slowly settling into unheard of figures
Delicately drawn by grand gestures
On blank slates of dust.
Medium Roast Pour Over (day 1194)
I am yet awake,
I have not yet groaned
My spider scaring roar
That echoes through these walls
And the cobwebbed corners of my mind.
But when I do,
When I finally wiggle my toes
And touch the cool cool floor
Of this autumn day morning,
I will smell the embracing aroma
Of my medium roast pour over.
Awakeless Surrender (day 1121)
Glaciers awoke my surrender.
I am not a window shopper,
A figureless void of deadly consistence
That scrapes along the expanse
Of doubly criss-crossed salt scapes;
Littered emptiness.
Vast emptiness
Crawling up the back of my spine,
Lightly dusted with ten days rolling.
This is the heartbeat.
The beat.
The heartbeat, beating.
Surrender in a tight grip.
Moments before forbidden flavor
Hits the freshness of thy tongue.
Laughter in childern.
Sounds of awoken footsteps,
And I am not crawling.
Whispers from My Tongue (day 1115)
This sky, and whispers from my tongue
Through fights: torrents and storms.
I wonder what shakes them forth…
So then my whispers should linger
Like my footsteps echo through these halls;
Cobblestone roads and rickety signs,
Darkness offset by lanterns dancing with my mind.
I let it shake and I cannot sigh,
For winter’s warmth stayed awake today
To brandish my armor as I let them fly
Upon winds that returned my whispers.