2015
White Curtains, White Walls
Posted on January 24, 2015 by MuseWriter
The bird sits on her perch
Inside the iron cage
In the front of the house,
with its white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s home two feet from the window
The bird sits on her perch
Decorated in gold
Her feathers soft to touch,
contrasting against the white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s beauty purchased for all of her colors
The bird sits on her perch
Forever always watching
Ignoring the boundaries of view,
cage bars framing the white curtains and white walls:
The bird’s eyes gazing past the glass in desire
The bird sits on her perch
Listening to silence
As a lonely decoration,
an isolation within the white curtains and white walls:
A solitude to drown out any chirping or singing
The bird sits on her perch
Heart rapidly pounding
Chest feathers ruffle with motion,
a reminder of life in the room with white curtains and white walls:
It’s always the same day after day.
2014
Past, Present, and Future
Posted on January 30, 2014 by MuseWriter
As I sit here on this stool, with the rubber cushion;
minus the splits of foam that I’ve sat in before
I resume a type of thinking more characterized
as self-reflection,
apparently focusing on the majority leaves one ignoring even
the most apparent responses of bodily intentions, my digression…
Analyzing the differences seen from the past, present, and future
Is there any mirror that defines life in a way
that isn’t scary to look at;
layering the foundations on the white scars that starting healing after
the last suture was placed
It’s interesting that memories take a form of their own
Categorizing emotions like I wasn’t living at all
But the body copies moments and marks up skin
At least for myself, if these things that I felt, either figuritively or literally, were real
but i wonder, why can’t i remember?
Is there a certain price to pay for filling up mind, brain
with more thoughts than many are capable of believing at all
Not that I mind being the mirrored masked portrait of someone
long forgotten,
but if chance had humor could it mean that there were a few less neurons firing then previously thought?
Should I mind if I’m never told the same story twice
given only just the suggestion, the motivational penetration
of anyone else’s digressions that make it from one brain to the next?
Shining In My Eyes
Posted on January 10, 2014 by MuseWriter
Floating away from the frigid abyss
Slowly opening senses, as if an infant learning
the first moments of awakening
The void retreating;
almost as quickly as consciousness shifts
The current, lifting thought
Dramatically acknowledging every random
tendril of hair and/or cloth
An accidental journey predetermined by
the Keeper of the light, and
Monitored by those incandescent flashes of bubbles
of air building the momentum
for the fire to grow
The internal flame igniting the oxygen into
filtering the hibernating air sustaining
my lungs, enough to encourage
the scattered thumping beats of my heart
Gathering faster in anticipation
and in accomplishment
Fingers stretched as arms fan in and out;
Palms drawn up together towards the surface, penetrating
the water; shooting through like an arrow
Palms pushed down to escape the darkness
Black sea turns to green, then to blue
Curious creatures coming closer to see
Avoiding the spotlight pointing its rays towards my face
The sun shining in my eyes, blindingly
calling out my name…
“Speak In Rounds” Grizzly Bear: http://youtu.be/TGFeetTr5Ds
“White Rabbit” Jefferson Airplane: http://youtu.be/WANNqr-vcx0
“State of the Art (A.E.I.O.U)” Jim James: http://youtu.be/THj4UjM-ZfQ
Shortest Outcomes Written
Posted on January 9, 2014 by MuseWriter
Penetrating weapons of investigation; a kind of manipulative exploration
where random thought passes to prove someone’s punch line
The shifting subtle glances stirring up unexpected responses of curiosity;
what does that say about who we understand to be?
The wayward thoughts causing disruptive questions; thinking
Practicing those moments of clarity without surrendering to
defeat in minute flashes of distractions
Announcing victory in even the
shortest outcomes written.
2013
I claim to be perfect…
Posted on January 31, 2013 by MuseWriter
I claim to be perfect, well at least inside of my head
But I fear my mind is a scary place, always questioning
It’s a visionary’s dream, or a lover’s death
It’s exhausting to be constantly trying to maintain a feeling of knowing
What is truth? I still don’t know
I always give in to the gravity of my thoughts
They travel down to deep, dark graves
Underground condominiums built up of my past
There’s this constant buzzing, a nagging in my ears
I am never allowed any moments of silence
This state of annoyance building up my trepidation
Unnerving the glow of energy I’m building within
Music
Posted on January 30, 2013 by MuseWriter
1-29-13
The echoing descant translates the harmony into my head
Making this treasured bundle of maternal comfort feel suddenly foreign
I’m always shocked as the explosion of emotion sets in
It’s as if my self is attached to the breath of the world through music
Every chord amplifies the ringing pitch of each string
The reverberating hum gets louder as the fingers connect with a whispering touch
Euphoria sets in as I can feel it flowing through me
Imprinting, now paving the neuro path to concrete memories
Eloquently playing, as might a painter if,
IF he could hear the shapes and the colors he entertains
Strokes of rainbow symphonies that fan out and fade
An orchestral picture perfect love song exhibit
A Confession
Posted on January 29, 2013 by MuseWriter
Two screws attach the plate to the wall
The industrial piece of plastic that holds in the switch
A border between the hollow boards of wires
An icon by the door of every modern regulator of the night
What does it cost to facilitate the irrationality?
Is it damaging to not think of it at all?
It’s only a single moment but it affects the very core of me
It’s such a dangerous game to play when there are no rules anymore
An awareness of expectancy guides my train of thought
An Amtrak full of people feeling lost and abandoned
But even they enjoy the sickly shade of streetlamp yellow
This is a confession of what makes me afraid
A Translucent Pandora
Posted on January 7, 2013 by MuseWriter
1-6-13
The palm leaves falter as you draw back the curtain
Jagged dark edges weave into the light on the wall
I lay here, comfortable, learning
You flip the switch then darkness falls
The room glows, it’s such a golden amber
The light explodes off of the panes
Four sides of a translucent pandora
An illuminated glass statue of dreams
The waves of color shine and sparkle
Narrating memories once shared
Cloudy movements dance in the circle
The cylindrical rhythm vibrates throughout the depth of shadows
Little Bright Stars
Posted on January 5, 2013 by MuseWriter
Little Bright Stars
1-5-13
Could I focus long enough to see you
Psychedelic imagining on mushrooms
Colorful sounds that I could not previously hear
I thought this world had changed but it wasn’t mine
We’ve submitted to the everyday musings of our new ordinary lives
But I’m confused, heartbroken and tired
I feel lost, I’m floating
I keep trying to stand but the weight pushes me down
How can I survive when I keep faltering?
How can I win if I want to lose?
I know that I am not alone
But reality is cruel and demanding
My loves are imprisoned within the realms of society
Shackled with platinum chains and diamond locks
Distractions to keep the blood flowing
We are young, brought here to please
We are limitless, but are now bound by mortality
We have wings, but we’ve forgotten how to fly
We are angelic, little bright stars that travel the world at night
