What a long, dusty road it becomes
As I snake my cool eyes towards limitless skies
And bull horns I’ve worn well
Emanate a toughness
I don’t want to carry anymore.
Tag: eye
Just Maybe (day 1751)
I don’t want a perfect you.
I don’t want an imagination
Resting on commercialized ideals
And mis-spent laments.
No.
I want your messiness and chaos
And moments that urk me,
And crazy eyes and silent times
And hugs that will never end
Because forever is a time
I will be left thinking of you.
And just maybe,
If I count my lucky stars enough,
I will be right there
Next to you,
Smiling,
Winding my clock backwards
Elongating time to expand
These moments that make up you.
Our Hearts (day 1738)
In a blink of an eye
It didn’t fade off and die,
It took years of tapering away.
Our hearts slowly bulging
Lost subtlety in lies,
Secrecy, and imagined constructs.
And our eyes still glow
Deep stare as our high,
None else becometh what matters.
Yet slowly our deceiving
Left us sleepless at nigh’,
Wreckless pitter-patter noise.
And all for believing
Pure random deceiving
To be lost in forever, goodbye.
Trailhead Mirth (day 1736)
Let our hero becometh she may;
Sky shines today, today.
Path beyond is tangled up
Amidst a heart that glows so stead.
But beware signs about thy trail
That alert an eye to deep sorrow,
Let mirth be kind and easy to
The brow that shakes, a cloudy stew.
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.
A Plan (day 1715)
I’ve crawled along
And pulsed my heart
To look into an eye,
And all I see
All around
Is bliss and zen,
I’m free.
Would you hold
My hand to be
A pedal in the wind?
Or would you seed
My plans into
A life
For you and me?
Plans, Man (day 1712)
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.
Embers (day 1703)
Closing my eyes
To windows
That cease to glow
Of excitement,
And embers beam
In the hearth.
Siren Song (day 1700)
My Siren’s song was loud and clear,
Rung straight into my heart so dear.
A melody of which I knew
I had no choice as matters grew.
Little by little I worked into
My heart the song I’d sing till blue,
The golden Lady of the land
A Siren and I, hand in hand.
But as my Siren grew in me,
I lost all duty to thyself.
My eyes were slowly closed,
Hands soon swoll, toiled and blue.
She knew I had so much to give
Until at last this heart would burst
Upon the seams she so wove with
Melody so long, her Siren song.
She, however, would not let go –
Clutching, bloody, my heart would grow.
Until, at last, all writhing stilled,
My heart: milled, song: chilled.
The Purr of Gaia (day 1672)
Dear George,
The letters from Salem finally arrived today. I had been preparing for them all week – harvesting a few varieties of toadstools in the forest around the area.
Bonhomie fills my heart this time of season. I wear my warm clothes and delight in an extra cup of coffee most days. Are you still exploring your art of the bean? I have started to use a scale to measure proportions for my perfect cup of coffee.
As I read through the hand written letters, the snow started falling here. Big large flakes that have started to stay on the ground, lazily floating there chaotically.
I love this time of year. The browns are so dominant, lacking most any signs of the lush green foliage of summer’s heat. It soothes the black heart inside of me, calling out to me slowly as I imagine the sweet embracing, icy fingers of Gaia as she slowly settles into fetal position – eyes flickering slowly – for a calm rest. Much like the feline.
I saved a feline from certain death two weeks ago. It had come pawing at my door after I fed it one lonely night. I had seen it fishing in garbage cans for luck earlier that week. We tracked down the owner who said it was left behind during a move half way across the country.
Can you imagine the absurdity of that? Moving half way across the country and leaving without your cat?
It’s a beautiful cat with the fullest of coats and a purr that shakes the icicles from sweet Gaia grip as she slowly settles into my black heart.
I look forward to hearing from you soon. The lovely sketch that accompanied your last letter was so enchanting. I’ve had it sitting on my windowsill since you sent it.
Much love,
Lizarious