Posted on June 26, 2013 by MuseWriter
Stepping through the round door
Walking into Bilbo’s lair;
Searching for the tome with all of the answers:
A trimmed leather book of pages
read over and over
Full of childhood memories
Explanations of yesterday and the
few days before that
Expanding awareness along the
country Shire lane of existence, to experience
and create something new
Even if it doesn’t mean anything to anyone,
but you and me.
Narrating into view a little tin roof to offer protection
from the elements in the physical being
Knowing that understanding is hearing
and that there is nothing to creating your own reality;
believing in a Tolkien story and then
pushing forward to read something new,
to imagine the impossible.
This whicker rocking chair lifting forward to front
Tossing back to feel the movement
Enjoying a summer’s storm and
reading happy novella stories;
Predictable beginnings starting with the one line announcement
of him or her
My current selection of hoarding
moments to remember, begins with
“There once was a boy named…”
Posted on June 26, 2013 by MuseWriter
One quick flash and then it’s gone, the light ceasing to exist but lingering seconds later, leaving little stars in our eyes
Extinguished by embarrassment of the amount of power used to create what could never be heard unless it’s so close it ignites
A loner wondering who would chance pain on the undefinable expectations of understanding from a passing eye;
Never letting go of the hope that lightning can strike somewhere twice, to feel the familiarity
The clouds roll, boil, before the explosion of sound; the thundering escape of air
Bodies self-consciously tensing every muscle, constricting movement as if preparing for some unknown distraction or threat
Knowing what is to come but fearing it all the same
Eyes closed, all from the warning shine of mercy;
The bolt only collecting one victim, at one exact target spot;
a finger of redemption
The noise travels greedily, trying to consume as many as possible
A nuclear explosion spreading out in an invisible black wave of intimidation, annihilation
Releasing from the puff of breath that had been held in;
Always the dramatic entrance, successfully poisoning the silence
Shattering the protective covering of the recycled stale air
Such a childish mind paired with a devil’s grin; dangerous or normal?
(Defining normal as whatever it is right now)
Trying to decipher the thoughts of the clouds through their bipolar cries for help
Being forced into contemplation and reflection, kindness
Forgetting body and soul and focusing on the sacrifice:
Summer storms always offer plenty of rain.
Posted on June 19, 2013 by MuseWriter
The wounds are fresh, pulsating with heat
Friction on the heart, subtle reminders that claim to destroy
Sending the troops out to barrel through the floodgates
Breaking, dam, damage
A mind wanders, follows a path
Looping through the gumdrops and the lollipops of Candy Land
Taking a break at every few steps to enjoy the sugar
Seeking the high off of the wanting
Much unlike the typical junkie
Never able to shoot up love like a drug
Or smoke a roll of desire, burning it to flame, red to black
A passion lasted through the ash of fire;
The worst trait of battle in any kind of war
But we all feel it burn every once in awhile.
Posted on June 18, 2013 by MuseWriter
A flick of a finger catches my eye, a glance down to see dirty hands
Dark mud caked under almost each nail
Disfiguring the usual picture typically in view and
What I see, gazing at this familiar sentient attachment;
controlling more than I can myself
Worker’s palms, gracefully raised up, together to offer up my love
To everyone, the Universe has said enough;
Murky water running clean.
Intensity
Posted on June 18, 2013 by MuseWriter
Drip drop the water falls
Echoing, bouncing, floating in mixed patterns within the bathroom walls
The faucet off and running, as a constant reminder of the time that is ticking
An audible reference of the faces I’ve been running, away
From what we miss within ourselves
And to find it once more
Devilish smiles seduce, suggesting more that’s left to come
The worst part of it all, the ones fallen are the hardest to trust
No matter how many hours of lives we meet, intensity always finds some sort of meaning, new discoveries, commonalities
But then, I always get carried away;
The beat is always so loud when we’re close.
Posted on June 16, 2013 by MuseWriter
Do I just sit and watch
As you force your hands on the driver’s wheel
Grabbing old leather that feels more comfortable in my hands
In my car,
I don’t need a chauffeur to escort, distort my view of the world
I know that when I stop searching
He will be here
I hate being patient, I hate being ignorant
But that’s what life is:
A waiting game
And figuring out who and what is worth any heartfelt emotion
Posted on June 9, 2013 by MuseWriter
Digging down, clawing, tearing back flesh
Where is the heart?
The incessant pumping, thumping, developing
Madness engulfs the mind
To where the light is dim, distanced away from the sun where the blood runs black
To a sordid colony of imprisoning despair
Followed by a few trips back into the tunnel, funneling down into the center of my soul
Connected to the unknown of those hidden, hiding,
laughing, crying.
Posted on June 7, 2013 by MuseWriter
Ending each day with a statement, one that ends in an inflection of a question.
To feel the physical touch from the fluctuations
that flow freely from your mouth, your lips
Words to describe, to enlighten, to enkindle
All of us who keep searching for more:
Answers, situations, people
Whispers of light, featherlight, that slide over my ears;
Floating from the top of cartilage to the bottom of lobe
Closing my eyes to see the god standing before me
Of the Olympian stories
The kings and queens of mythology, of make believe?
Here, I find myself chasing
One human mortal of the calmest kind of endless possibilities
Addicted to the grace that calls out when answered;
To find the last part of self and put together the rest of our lives.
The air moves, as if growing, if boiling in anticipation
Or maybe I’m only feeling the anxiety of the Earth
The shifts as you get closer
My bard of every love song that I could believe in
Knowing more than this life could ever afford,
To be purchased, or to be bought and sold;
An offering or a curse of awareness, a common
Problem or burden from the window
I’ve been gazing through;
Contemplating who, answering the same. Always questioning, “What are you waiting for?”
Posted on June 3, 2013 by MuseWriter
A clown marks the start of another ride
Pushing the red button before pulling the trigger
A merry-go-round of children laughing;
Masking the cluster of images swirling in their heads
Masters of temptation, grabbing hold of the nearest mount
Legions of horses, zebras, lions, every face imaginable;
Chasing the last return of a glance ahead.
As a champion of excitement, a wanderer through the torn,
yellowed bodies mapping out the ranks;
Crinkled pieces of scroll, that roll out to be told
to insert a spiritual boldness to the heroes
Ready, waiting to listen.
Grasping the reins of my own companion, golden stallion, unicorn
Guiding the flow of thought with a flick of the wrist
Gliding above them all, watching and waiting for the carnival to end.
The battle endures, winding round and round
Can we have a victory if we’re close to ending it with nothing at all?
What defines a truth without the pathway to the lie
And what lies ahead?
One magnified view of the billowing dust cloud approaching from the distance
The marshmallow cumulonimbus blowing in on a frontal attack of corruption
Disguising stubbornness with determination
Underestimating the ground that claims each footstep
Of the riders as they step off of the stage when the whirlwind is over
Will we find ourselves walking again with nowhere to go?
Muse Writer 
