Monthly Archives: April 2013

Standard

Meteor Shower

Posted on April 30, 2013 by MuseWriter

Walking, marching, feet trembling

Knocking from the contact touching earth to soul

Connecting in knowledge of grace and truth

Staring straight ahead, calculating a destination;

a sunny piece of grass in between the trees

I continue until I fall, sit, in the middle of the light

Ablaze, controlled, alone

I notice the clouds ahead, glowing in various shades of pink and purple

Puffy masses being fast-forwarded into movement

Tracking the centuries of the world below;

and noting everyone who stops to embrace life, those who love

A scene so powerful, so moving that the ground engulfs me

Pillowing my head and offering protective covering

As if I melted into the soil;

one body, one earth

A lover’s touch to penetrate the warmth and to fuel the strength within

One kindred spirit, a gift of sacrifice

A black night illuminated by stars

On display during the latest meteor shower.

Take a peek…

Posted on April 29, 2013 by MuseWriter

To pluck a single strand, a smooth blade of grass
Cool to the touch, feather light
Consuming perfectness of the Artwork, feeling it seep in while braiding the stem through each finger
The force of pressure, squeezing the drink from one of nature’s mysteries, the nectar of life
Learning to make a plant bleed, humanizing, understanding
Splitting the shaft down the middle
Opening the body up to take a peek inside
Using the sharp edge of a fingernail to conquer and divide
Planting new seeds to grow, to survive.

Connections

Posted on April 26, 2013 by MuseWriter

What is it, that pounds in the pit of stomach, that tastes a bit metallic?
A sharp bite to eat that brings a couple of drops of tears to the corners of my eyes
Reflecting images of memories being replayed in my peripheral vision;
Tempting constant sideways glances to count down the minutes
for just that one look
that one picture
Trying to capture it all,
As a ghost, facing everyone backsides front, all wrong
Offering open hands with determination; consternation?
Always waiting for just a part of an explanation
to feel welcomed, even after spilling out any truth or story
Disregarding modern ways and dialing the numbers of fate on the pay phone, by the theatre where
the grand opening of the new story is featuring
About a boy, who grew up to be a man
A mortal without the limitations of the jaded, the wasted
A new lover’s exhale offering every fresh breath a small prayer;
Requesting them to be sacred gusts of wind to travel,
In a straight line to those connected.

Master Illuminaries

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

I am, just as you are, as we are,
A cluster of master illuminaries, the various torch holders of destiny, a group of multiple ultimate miracles;
Shining their grace into the soil of the Earth
The layers of flesh and dirt, that echo off of the platform at the base of the mountains,
And jump off the cliff into the valleys; Dramatically encircling the territories
Like some sort of scout or invader
The sweet nectar that lies breathlessly awaiting, seeks, is seeking, the steady stream that flows into the sea
The vein that carries the rhythm of Her predictable heartbeat, the blood of her soul
A refreshing swim to remind Her that She’s alive

Forgetting

Posted on April 25, 2013 by MuseWriter

Comfortable, but forced, as if saluting in attention to the flag;

The fabric and the thread of our destiny

What colors will remain when the skies start falling?

I join the ranks of concrete statues,

balancing fact from fiction, truth, or worse, lies

I find, a certain picture brewing, floating to the viewpoint of my eyes

A world of a land and of seas,

A world of guiltless lives and sheltered, coffined deaths;

Acknowledging:

This idea that we are given a reality that fights the tendril hair of knowledge that leads to igniting what we dream

A World with no pipelines, no shipwrecks, no signs of life from anywhere but

From the heart of the Earth, her core of gold,

Pulsating fiery energy to her children she placed above

Who then use it, waste it, ignore it

Lines of tiny ants that march in troops to conquer new goals

To abolish anything original, unless the idea suits the “world,”

However many times She claims She has never once requested any help,

only our love

We seek nourishment, encouragement but trap ourselves by binding to the shackles of narcissism and disappointment,

to add those to the list of accomplishments,

Checking off each box as another step into the assimilation,

Forgetting that there will always be something, anything,

Worth listening to,

To fight for.

 

 

A Starry Night

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

4-8-13

Sitting at a bistro table, in one of the two chairs

Picturing a view of a diamond sky, and being entertained by the crowded streets of the night

My pointed toe traced the outlines of the cobbled stone,

A piece of concrete to record the history of the street;

raw, shiny, from all of the feet before me.

The waiter, a skinny, balding man brought my water and a straw

Two separate pieces laid out before me on the bistro table.

On the marble top that is speckled in brown, beige, and tiny geometric shapes of green

A sturdy image brought to life by Van Gogh in a dream;

Of make-believe, what we seek to define as real

To replay the conversations of the passer-bys of the night, and to question, dissect them.

As my fingers fuddled with the straw paper

Twisted the object, crumpling it, as if trying to figure it out too,

Only in touch and sensitivity;

Making common sense out of inanimate objects, and feelings

Trying to keep my hands busy, to steady the mind focused on the table itself, the bubble that I put in place to surround

Ignoring those who live in the apartments above, my reverie

And not looking at the others who may be:

Eating.

Dreaming.

Misdirectionally Thinking.

Bleating;

There’s nothing worse than distractions during our most important conversations, interactions.

The bubble succeeds in sheltering the lost minds who find themselves wondering,

always thinking, about everything.

But it’s tight, sometimes suffocating;

The force of the task creates awkward lapses in recreating,

Anything sensible at all.

It’s amazing how the barriers we create can feel like all of the weight of the World.

I fumbled with the wrapper, daring a few glances towards the doorway,

The gate of the future, blocked off to the sight of everyone, except me, from my seat

Still no one entered.

Losing patience of strength and pride, I contemplated rising, leaving, escaping.

Too many thoughts are too many enough.

But then, at the height of my anxiety, almost the last step up before the leap,

I felt a hand on my shoulder and knew that you had arrived.

The constant flow of penetration disappeared at that moment, and it was quiet.

It’s unmistakably rare to find ones to share the weight of the world.

To not feel alone at a picturesque marble bistro table,

Underneath a starry night.

Heartbeat

Posted on April 23, 2013 by MuseWriter

The echoing last seconds of a boom of thunder lingered within the waking moments of memory
Flashes of light blinding, even through painted eyelids, afraid to open
A storm of importance, demanding to be heard, to be seen, felt
A single dance partner impatient to start moving
I collapsed into awareness, jumping out into the blackness;
For the moon and the stars had shed away their shine to give all attention to the flashes that penetrated the night
The white explosions of blue, gold, and green;
Shards flying off into the fragments of the living; Earth
The Storm, expressing its determination of telling a story, trying to be heard
Given the brief luxury of the creation of wind and water,
Binding air particles that recklessly spin faster, upward, to start a rhythm that’s trance-like,
Blinding; pounding: the lover’s heartbeat.

Boundaries

Posted on April 6, 2013 by MuseWriter

How many steps ahead is the subconscious intellect?
The telescopic third-eye,
Blinking into an open window of time
Where everything means nothing,
Of what we see;
Of what we seek and believe.
A hazy glow, encircles the picture playing in front of me:
Of a child chasing a remote-control car,
Of the cardinal that sits at my window,
The little girl that mourns over the dead bird;
What is it, that we dream?
To exist within the conformities of time, and place,
To understand what it means that nothing has boundaries;
And to be a slave to them all.

Murder

Posted on April 5, 2013 by MuseWriter

Looking down, I see a tiny blade protruding from my chest

Wounded

Watch, as the thick crimson flows down in a thirsty trail from my heart

Dying

The pool, turning black at my feet,

As in the representation of the extinction of life; and it is

The tar-like edges clinging to my skin,

Covering the pink flesh

I’m falling

Fading out,

Clouding vision,

And I am alone

Dead

The murderer, refusing to sacrifice, ran away

 

April 2, 2013

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

If there were an instrument of Heaven,

It wouldn’t be the harp,

nor the flute, the clarinet, or the trombone.

It would be the piano;

Mixing the different moments of sound

Into the stories of the world

to flow freely, stream-like, winding around the various twisted letters.

To caricaturize their meaning

Inserting contextual lines instead of placing images,

to understand, is to appreciate the living;

What it means to live.

I love

so as to find the love in others,

the ones left undiscovered to me yet.

The majority of friends who,

compliment the shared community of time spent

Creating;

Minds of philosophical masters;

like in the great classics.

To express the knighthood among the learned;

to continue the traditions.

Who is bothered to stand taller,

than the limits of physical proportions?

I know I am.

Red Light

Posted on April 2, 2013 by MuseWriter

Today, I felt the kiss of spring

As if I were embraced by the woman in the wind,

She hugged me

I could feel her warmth;

A motherly touch that promised of love.

 

Her long fingers strewn through my hair

Catching on a few amber curls

My windows down, to stay connected

I heard her talking, mixed within the music

The noninvasive compilation of instruments playing;

In ceremony, the birds chirping

Along with the exact rhythm and melody,

It felt like Heaven.

 

A minute at a red light to offer a moment of reflection,

And prayer

One where the Universe finally understood;

Could feel my need,

Then forced Its hymn

The music playing a light piano with:

Translucent waves of harmony

I happened to notice the sky at that moment

A blue so pure,

Completely magical

I could get lost in that ocean forever;

The only view to supplement the subconscious listening.

 

But as it seems now

At least most days

Reality consumes

And I’m forced to follow

The line of traffic

When the light turns green.

Puzzle Pieces

Posted on April 1, 2013 by MuseWriter

The rounded puzzle edges were spread out across the table

Their splash of mixed colors thrown carelessly together

An explosion of rainbow that added up to form the big picture

Of some unimportant field with blooming wildflowers

As a portrayal, it’s not an example of terrific photographic artwork;

Just a field, another grassy plain that awakens us to its declarations,

By sprouting colorful rainbow temptations

Or, at least that’s what I gathered, but it was the actual puzzle fragments;

Themselves, that caused stop for attention

How can cardboard evoke such feeling?

Relating to the trials and triumphs of picking up the pieces,

And saying farewell to the parts of me that I’ve lost;

The missing puzzle shapes that imperfect the overall vision

There is no reasonable order of the pieces that remain

Put together, they display empty holes that have been dug down deep to the pits of Hate

The heat cauterizing each new breach to be plugged with a distorted rosy scar,

Never to be puzzled over; as if in punishment of losing the allotment forever

But mixed within together, the puzzle pieces put into a pile,

They collectively seem whole

There is no such thing as a

missing core outlined by a cutoff print of green weeds and tall grass.

Advertisements

One response »

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s