Pitter-Patter

A pitter-patter knocks out from inside the wall
The creature patrolling the parameters of his forest
For the popular wayward travelers such as Rumpelstiltskin and Red Riding Hood;
Such an awful imagination for a mouse.

Who always comes out, to offer a friendly goodnight
All of the while, only hiding behind the smiles
Of a shady cheek, covered by the various shades of darkness;
bouncing off of the several different glances of the loner’s only possible companion.

As I lie awake, always as of late
I don’t sleep, instead I try to memorize the counting of the sheep, until those said sheep bah out their names and stories; my favorite,
About a little girl and her little lamb
A daughter, child Mary
The objection to the ultimate salvation, to analyze and find specific temptations, as if on a mission to create:
A tender lovingness of youthful compassion, without abandon.

To abandon dreams because I can’t sleep, another opportunity to remember what to think, how to think
Listening to the mouse scurry, as if illustrating his own version of the story
The vermin, or just a thoughtful eye
Perhaps a reincarnation of a true romantic?

I am grateful for the day off tomorrow. <3

Tea

A simple pleasure, one sip to drink
Smooth clay ridge fired to perfection, sensual on open lips
One cup, maybe seconds
Steaming, steeping, boiling.

I am grateful for, yea you guessed it! Tea <3

He loves me, He loves me not

The beginning petal falls, floating and twirling down until finding its resting place
The first question asked in regretful contemplation and resentment
A hope based off of the encouragement of the task
Keeping hands busy to avoid any idle mischief;temptations that haunt, linger in the shadows, staring in through the window.

The second piece flies, is set loose from its home, tossed aside; familiarity is boring
The truth sets in, of course there is no love, no respect, only judgment and selfishness.
A stem of a flower, an anchor of each fragrant blade, so tall and mighty
Holding up the fragile pieces of color, or at least claiming ownership, never wondering what it means to give itself to the admiring passerby

But when the riddle consumed the last pretty petal, the stem found itself alone
Just another blade of grass lost in the field.

I am grateful for my friends. <3

We Succeed

I imagined that it was how you would look

Like the heat’s effect on a summer’s pavement

Flashes of an iridescent glowing, painting color on air,

Nothing; complex and magical

Mystical, in the way that makes one believe

To spread an offering of a love so pure, so strong, we can feel its warmth

Enveloping body, covering flesh in the sticky grasping of a humid sweat

Layers of awareness of body and self

And the connection of heat, the wonders of touch

Letting fire consume, tantalizingly engulfing, until the flame burns blue

Only visible through squinted eye

Shielded to protect, to tempt, to restrict

To limit the overall portrait so that

Nothing could ever be said against, to distort the meaning and convince

The mind of action, of punishment?

Only the worse kind of enslavement to endure

But we suffer and we succeed.

I am grateful for moments of silence. <3

PineTrees

I am Muse Writer

A temptress of pen to mystify the responses of language

To gauge the limits of what it means to be “human”

and to suffer with the mortal heart;

Such a fragile shell of life, love

Pumping light through veins to fuel the soul

As passion ignites and bursts in certain moments of an unresolved absence of control

Self-inflicted tears to carve the pathways down, from the escaping break of my eyes

To remember the roads traveled, to remember each journey’s lesson

To believe, past the rational mind of a creator’s image;

The mirrored reflection of humanity and how it is represented to the person staring

Like me, into the glassy pane of contemplation

Of imagining a self-image and trying to capture the picture

The Polaroid to determine that who I see is me

Sometimes, I catch a hint of shadow that convinces the eye to glance again, asking to be noticed, remembered

And I travel;

As a creature flying higher than the average liver; a messenger of the night

Soaring over the ocean, wispy tendrils of hair sporadically flowing into the water

Until the forgotten sea monster swallowed me whole;

Being sheltered in the belly of one of Moby Dick’s monster spawn

Accepting the revenge of the memories that plague the inside of the creature’s stomach walls

Until abandoning ship and being spit out into the lost city of Atlantis;

A paradise for lovers.

And why my gift to give is a random thought of awareness that breaks through the night;

That can be seen by starlight, bright flashing beacons of truth that bow down to me, and you

One precious life, a willing heart to guard an Angel, a voice of Heaven

To know a man who outshines the light of the rest, creates a hunger

A thirst for knowledge and a taste of your acceptance in resistance, your calculations and stories

Everything

Because of course, there could never be a writer without a muse,

I decided this under the swaying pine trees of our home.

I am grateful for new music: Jim James

Crooked Railroad

Words to saturate the soul, creep in until you can’t see anything else
Humming tugs of blurred vision, thoughts that interact with more than the glowing glances of the last few moments
Shattering phrases to tempt the mind, to suspend forward motion and bend it a little
A crooked railroad of emotions traveling from city to city,
Underground, out of sight, faster than the speed of light
Digging holes deeper, down into the soil, rooting its new home
The poison seeks, seeps up from beneath the grass
Suffocating those who stop to smell the closest flower

I am grateful for minivacations and tents. <3

Decorative Cameras

Decorative cameras, retinas

Detaching from the surreal pictures that are swimming

Into the gates of hell where everyone is thinking

Contemplating the freeze frame while in the yellow wallpaper waiting room of decision making

Patiently preparing for a visit with the devil himself, sitting in old blue chairs with wooden arms to rest upon

To lean an elbow, and awkwardly gaze, self-analyze, examine,

Reflect, amongst the other dreamers, seekers

Who live dying until the dream exists;

Until the imaginary is real, not just one of the Grimm fairy-tales

Nor, any of the wayside memories;

for children to cherish as significant life lessons

To give certain feelings reasoning, more emotions to embrace the mind

To flow in and out of the barriers and beg to see a little more

To explore, what we all inherently wish to see

Even those who sleep;

Even the engineers, the inventors;

The magicians of the objects of the world

Using resources to create anything at all;

Even them,

With their calculations and evaluations, judgments

To harmonize the thinkers of society

To escape the walls that lock us inside of the 3D boxes

Letting numbers and letters flow interchangeably, shedding light only to those with the deepest sense of living

To understand when a unity is worth sacrificing and developing;

To design the story of a new picture-show movie that,

Will play the entire book of our lives

I am grateful for all of the World’s potential. <3