I am sad
For I have not closed my door,
I have left it open to the world
That climbs and claws
To its desired height.
And my skin has begun to bleed
Where once it was supple
In rash and scale,
Blueberry wine.
I am sad
And my glasses haven’t fit
Since I sat boldly
At the ocean’s edge
Wishing I didn’t feel this pain
And could not see
Ocean’s spray.
Tag: fit
Agreeing To Be Depth (day 2850)
I am awoke by change
No longer mind frame
A Chancellor of fate
Calling to his wild.
Gods are word-spells
Agreeing to be depth,
For this shall – and will not –
Be a poster boy for stagnate.
Lessons are ritual,
Observation a practice,
Mind-spend: currency,
And Gaia a dotted map
For discovering a new way,
No longer to submit
Anchoring of truths
In unconscious fits
Of anxiety and loss,
Amidst coldness
With sugar dust
Toxic sold bliss.
Time Doesn’t Stop (day 2829)
It’s hard
Each morning’s steps
Each routine task
Each day hours slip on by
Yet each day wanes,
Loses it’s time,
To begin again another.
How does this rhythm
Speed up so
How do we slow down time?
How do we fit
Each task we wish
Into one full day
So that the next
Anew and awake
Shall meet a whole new list.
Into a Hole, A-ho (day 1745)
I wonder, pacing back and forth in the middle of light,
Is there something that’s become thus turbulent undertow?
Have I designed such fit for feet of strangers?
Long walks alone in a forest captures my heart,
Where has thy sweet sun crept away to? I ask in earnest to nodding nuances,
But no answers come back, though I implore twice for free.
Meanwhile slow approaching whisps sling past in a haze of unkempt mystery
Shrouded in man-made asphalt that collects at its side big puddles
For jumping.
And yet my friends among the silence who stand motionlessly absorbent
Carry weight of history so thickly my stomach begins to grumble,
My breath begins to abate me, and a slow tear finds its way into a hole.
So my wandering takes me back to a place I’ve always been
A question that’s never left the tips of my heart-hole that resists coldness
Keeping my toes so at night but warming my soul into abundantly undone.
Much Brighter (day 1018)
The little lover knew no other
But all she had was fits and slobber
The man she loved was much too clever
To hold onto a dying ember
To which begins the sad sad tale
Of the little lover and her
Quest of building ever stronger
Which she blossomed into a Queen
Who loved to laugh and delight in grandeur
And in the end she was much brighter
For being the girl of fits and slobber
The Moon (day 225)
The halls of glory fit through these streets
Stringing up Gothics, and racing for tricks
Last time we settled down for a nice cup of tea
We were asked if we’d like some bottles of wine
How horrific it seems to be bothered for bliss
When all that’s desired is a little of this
Perhaps the young starlings will speak to us soon
With hope it will let us know we’ve come twice round the moon