Breeze

rustling I shall follow
the howling wind's sorrow
feel my skin's upheaval
synchronize with flowing voice
passing through the sulking breeze
I am forgotten

40 Years

you come and go so quickly
as if the wind picked you up
in one sad moment
blew you across the snow covered ground
there is no mountain
no ocean
only this land locked field of past endeavor
it stirs me so

Journey

climbed out of my sunken mattress
stacked upon pewter slats
into sentences of dark obsession
blue eyes I cannot see
a deep distaste for life I cannot grasp
felt from head to toe
invading deepest thoughts
crawling down the back of my head

Starstuff

I'd swallow the whole universe
without digesting the stars
I'd carry them in my arms
a great bouquet of light
against a cosmos of nothing

Time

I watch the clock
calculate the difference
ticking through my emotions
knowing the moon has risen
in some other place
at the same time

Rose

I peel the petals of subconsciousness
uncovering a subtle, sad voice
my hands tucked deep within a mind
hoping to unlock another layer of mankind
buried in the suffering of you.

Satori

I am becoming alive again
burning in sudden illumination
a kick in the eye so to speak
just like Kerouac
only I'm not in Paris anymore
I am sitting on the cat torn couch

꽃 Flowers Bloomster Fleurs 花 Virágok Blumen الزهور Kvetiny Kukkanen

I find the flowers

the place where I belong 

I arose out of the depths of nothing 

a mere seed with desire

sprouting up out of a gray void

I am the petal that licks the bees

I am the stigma that climbs the trees

floating on a stem

Fool

I am a fool of flowers

a fool of blood

and a fool of love

mingling with men

stroking egos half smiling

inside I am crying.

Stars

my index finger tip has become numb to the keystrokes

similar to the numbness that climbs down the back of my head

when days are long and nerves are dead

the joy I feel from this tickling sensation

is enhanced by dance whispering the words I hear upon my ear

"counting stars"

why yes, I am counting too

I've counted Leonids for as long as I can remember
laying on a pier in mid November
and the Quandranids, they are something on a cold winter's day

lying down with outstretched arms
dreaming of parallel moons and stars

Kiss

inside your kiss

I taste the comfort of us

revealed in a coffee cup

freshly brewed by your hands

warming my heart

with all the heat of this world

Particles of Me

a black and white image taken long ago, haunts me so
segments can still be collected and followed in a cloud
yet I release it into an oblivious sea
where lost traces of me can be found at the bottom
drowning sentiments time and time again

there you will find the objects of my past
a heart shaped ring befitted for a tiny being
ribbons of blue tied in delicate bows
a marbled journal with a lock in tow

their fragments no longer float
yet I continually sail in my white painted boat
throwing the pieces over board
watching them fade away where the fish nibble
tearing at the false particles of me

Cells

barefooted little dreams walk the cement streets
burning their feet upon the open playground
toes warn and black kick half inflated balls
I frolic with them, climbing into liberation
the soles of my own feet warm on the concrete

reminding me of a time not so long ago
where I am also free, isolated in my jungle gym
sun still fresh upon the horizon
it was there we played, I was captured by a knave
playing nazi's and jews, we were so advanced
sending one another to pretend concentration camps

I can no longer pretend everything will be ok
for life is suffering all the way
even our most minute singular cells must suffer
it must take an abundance of energy for them to divide

yet once divided, they are free for a while
there we kick, there we smile
only to be divided once again, we play in unison
barefooted and beaming

Song Within

receiving a connection through sound
I hear comfort and companionship
an ever flowing calm from all directions
my ears are warm and sampled

my heart beats in unfathomable rhythms

tickling the innermost core of my chest

by a dark, interesting force of foreign sentiments
I long to hear an accent of fierce vocalizations
singing to me sweetly from beyond

Laundry

incessant piles of laundry sits
smiling at my existence
in it's folds, I am perplexed
at why I must do this ungodly chore
it grows like weeds
making fun of my disease
begging for submission
to swish out the stains
a great washing of a feminist's remains
shouting at me, I do not move
collecting dust all the while
staring at this fucking pile

Drone II

A warm drone envelopes me
wrapping my heart's rhythm
all is forgiven
it's song and it's caress
are the end of my distress

Photography by a Muse

images appear
enchanted
flat and white
implanted
flowers float
through soft spoken eyes
there was my demise
through a stubble
through a smile