Underground

Ignoring his creamy fingers soiled muddy

Palms pressing on earth as fragile limbs fist one by one

Modest wishes leave him tempted of lifting substance

His innocent curiosity alerted to grasp the gravity of power

Existence watches on in rebellious indifference as

Black dirt sifts through self and back onto ground

The overhead light bulb swings in motion of the day

A pendulum of awareness forced from underground

As a child of wonder is sheltered in the recesses of a broken World.

I am grateful for solidarity ❤

Robots

Credit: photobank.kiev.ua

we are all robots with our industrial legs and arms

emitting static data through chained sprocket mouths

chewing down on metal teeth while spitting out sparks;

tasteless words to condition into subjection

the accomplishment of production as day’s profit

obtaining satisfaction in facilitating the genocidal submission

with one’s own expiration date stamped axiomatically;

one by one we live, work, and die

I am grateful for the heavy hearts ❤

insert title III

Memories and Reflections

12-12-13

Standing on the hill with a random breeze catching on
His strawberry hair ruffled and soft to the touch;
Succumbing to the force within the currents of the wind

The sun and the moon endure their usual aversion of each other
As they sit on their thrones to enjoy the splendor below;
Loving the thoughtless creatures of mortal limitations

Of this one in particular pretending magnificence

(As a peaceful representation of living in perfect harmony
and fighting the fear of indifference
while promoting beauty in the uncertainty,
or at least the everyday moments that the
World can be too busy to notice)

As the ordinary miracles catches his attention;
A man of notice and the gifts of perception

Breathing in the reality tasted by the events determined
From the recordings of the subjects in question;
Their memories and reflections of them

She’s Not Me
7-7-15

I heard all of the rumors and

The messages that she sent

I thought maybe I was her but

She showed me that we’re different

Her wounds bound her together and

Although they seemed similar

I knew that I was only myself, that

She was not me but someone else

Another drifter saying the same things

Thinking the same thoughts day to day

Except she claims to see more

As if she knows the future

Or maybe bits and pieces of our

Memories shaped together

Dagger
7-8-15

I’ve got the fire burning in my belly

My heart is pumping strong

There’s a few words I’ve been thinking

That lay balanced on my tongue

I thought you were my brother

I called you my best friend

But at the first chance you got

You shoved a dagger into my back
Supposed Friends

7-8-15

Calling all supposed friends!

Oh where Oh where have y’all been?

I’ve found myself among the wolves

Their howls keep calling me home under the moon

Have I died and been gifted a life reborn?

I woke up soaking wet and standing alone

Dripping droplets of their bitter scorn

Leaving puddles of poison on the floor

The grass is always greener in this war

Battles of greed to keep us wanting more

You can claim all of the fields of clover

A fake reign won’t live on forever

I am grateful for lost thoughts ❤

Here I Am

Clumsy animals of the wild

Asking for handouts to survive

Picking up the pieces out of spite

Accepting peanut shells able to find

We eat to count the years of life

Sustaining the body in anyway, every time

Self-proclaimed Masters of ignoring emotional strife

Can you hear me calling?

I thought I wasn’t even trying

Until the sky began falling

And now,

Here I am

I am grateful for patience ❤

Uninhabitable Hollows

Everyone is asleep
While I find solace in
this empty closet
Sitting on the floor
comfortable and writing
Absently twirling a wayward strand
and chewing on my bottom lip
These habitual reminders that
we never really change
(Except maybe our levels of
awareness and perception;
intuition?)
We all sometimes feel the
embarrassment from judgement
Thoughts that solidify
forming concrete structures in
our minds
Uninhabitable geometric spaces
that appear empty and dark
Some days I want to bulldoze
this whole city down
But as they say, the sun
always shines after the night
Illuminating these hollows
within our minds
Power igniting to imagine
new beginnings
Replacing each structure with
rows of flowering trees
Thoughts that I find now as my
hands dig through the soil
to plant the seeds
Preparing myself for future
times of solitude
Just like this
Where I can spend these
precious moments
Smelling the flowers and
enjoying the beauty
Instead of closing in and
retreating to the stories that
never end

I am grateful for road trips ❤

Nooks and Crannies

Where are you?
I see the shadows
feel the movements
But only from the corner
of my eyes
As if it’s some kind of joke
to confuse the blind-ed
Where were you?
When the clouds drew near
blocked out the sun
when I forgot to run
Feet locked into the ground
as if they had sprouted roots
all by themselves
Letting the dirt swallow my
body whole
Even the dark
Nooks and Crannies
that I had forgotten about;
How do we begin to
lose ourselves
in the very things that
Once helped
before?

I am grateful for sleep. ❤

On, Off

Bare flesh, lightly visible in the moon’s spark of the black night

Standing before the massive outline of shapely treetops

darkened purpled by the densely expanse of an unknown

Staring into the depths as if looking into its genius, the creator of it all

without seeing to confirm the visual awareness of surroundings

feeling more emotion from the darkness as it demands attention by

sucking out light to anything that crosses the

boundary of shadows; dictator to all of the nightly critters, those

egotistical orators claiming the highest pitch of the chorus

to offer his or her version of story to the world

 

All of this, as I gaze out through the field

A grassy plain isolated, vulnerable to any watchful eye

A lamp goes on there, and then turns back off

on, off, on, off, on;

Proudly illuminating the nearest blanket of grass

trying to demand some of the night for itself

Covering its land in a hauntingly shade of yellow

only enhanced by the purity of each blade,

and again off

 

Now pale, dimmed within the natural light of the moon

Creating a normal hue to walk through

without feeling the suffocating grip of man

Low flying clouds churn out an embraceable

wind, that collapsed within the cloth;

protecting my skin from the harshness of touch

A kiss upon brow, satisfied

that sacrificing anything else

would kill the magic of the current

flow, frumpling feathers and giving

flight to the creatures above,

on

 

Masking identity behind palms

out, sheltering others as much as

isolating self

A cluster of memories to ruffle the

tendrils of every curly strand

Each one grasping on to a single thread

of thought attached

Highlights set aglow by flashes of

reflections;

Trying to imitate the stars overhead and

all of their tinkle tinkling

A trendy scene for a fairytale themed movie or play

With characters to love and

characters to hate

For moments of happiness and a few

remembrances of the bitter

unfortunate periods of sadness

Even those times of numb stoicness, where

giving only all to self and shutting down

any honest part of the truth, is easier than

being alive at all

A question of validation to never be answered but

to continually be pondered, because there are

always two sides to every thought

As there are to every random misplaced impulsive

reaction to any kind of sensation,

off

 

Is this what you want? I implore you;

ask, as you might demand the answer

if given the opportunity,

on

 

I think to offer surrender, like an adolescent of angst

forsaking all responsibilities and

tempting fate into showing face

Crying wolf and risking the emptiness of the

other side of faith, as it is

now but I don’t know how I could ever bear

the possibility of the worst kind of confirmation

That this is all we’ve got

I’ve resolved myself to hope, to suggest that it’s not;

 

Off.

I am grateful for playing in the light and the dark; it is what we make it. ❤