See that orange dust, being picked up by the wind
With crusts of brown catching on the edges of your shoes
Do you see the pieces of wood, dryly speckled across the pavement
while others get carried off by the ants up the side of the bench
No, you probably don't.
Because you are looking up, at the vibrant green fronds
The leaves that span their arms wide to embrace the sun
The new shoots that crawl and creep along the trees edges
Perhaps a blossom or two, breathing for the first time
And the scent that lingers in your senses and heart
And you smile at them. Yes you smile.
And offer them a caress for those closer to the ground.
Maybe pick up a freshly fallen leaf with colours
to bask in and share later with your 5 year old niece.
Or place in the middle pages of your travel diary
as you soak in the experience of the new
Then, when theres not much else to do,
you may on occasion admire the somewhat gone
The amusing and sweet pattern of the holes
that have torn through the turning yellow and brown
Maybe you'll trace around it with your fingers
Reflecting on how even death can be beautiful.
Yes, I too have seen these things. And picked them up myself.
Carried and disposed of, during a meandering thought.
Yet, very seldom. In fact, I have yet to see it.
Will anyone try and piece back together
The leaf that has become apart
translucent and scattered.
And still.
With no more of anything left to give.
The pieces now trembling with complete vulnerability
With no will and no colour.
Its disappearance will not be noticed
by anything
other than the silence.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
A foolish heart knows no bounds,
falling over and over
like a gentle whimper of a child
but yet,
still looking up with a vulnerable hope
a yearning questioning
for the affection
of the averted gaze.
A foolish heart sees no truth,
staggering in a room full of thorns
only to proclaim
that the spaces between
are whispers
silent expressions of
a secret love
that they wish to see.
A foolish heart hears no rejection,
for its all a projection
of a nightmarish confusion
while the truth
no matter how sought for
suffocates
at the seam,
and the foolish heart continues
on with its caramel dream.
A foolish heart does not fear pain,
for that is where it sleeps.
No, a foolish heart,
fears the end,
it fears the death
of its very own breath.
Where the illusion is broken,
and all that remains
Is a plain human being.
A foolish heart wants to stay foolish
for it’s the most alive its ever been.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC
A smile is so much more
than a curvature of the lips
Its a smell that emits
from the breath of a kiss
Its the sound of joy
behind the cryptic face
that remains perfectly still
and yet watches you with grace
Its the movement of the thumb
across the knuckles of a lover
Its the gentlest of touches
of one nose against another
Its in the stolen glances
That escape the attention of the other
As they lace up their shoes
and talk about their brother
Its everything that you embody
and everything that you miss
When you realise
that you want all of this.
Mar 21, 2017
Mar 21, 2017 at 9:52 PM UTC
The shower
water
of silken light,
caresess my face
my hands
my thighs.
The delicate warmth
of the sunshine
beam
escorts
out
the sweetened steam.
The dancing giggles
slowly
reveal
all that lingers
beneath the peel.
The naked
truth
that
what
I feel
is
undeniably,
ever blindingly,
- real.
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 3:24 PM UTC
Fallen angles shake their heads
as my body drums against the
all too contained
cavity of expression.
Maddeningly, utterly in disarray
the mind stumbling
over the debris
left by the racing heart.
In a way, I hate you
but mostly me
for being at the mercy
of someone else's gaze.
God ******* ******
**** ************* christ.
I want to pull my breath out
and bottle it up for a while
so I no longer have to breathe
this fire of unrest.
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
Fill my lungs with your smile
as we walk along
the sunshine drenched road
of meandering thought.
Our hands radiate
the delight that our words cannot
laced together, they wander
looking out into
this giggling world.
You laugh at a thought,
and I smile at your eyes
Each step
Lavishing the path with colour
and leaving a scent
of two lovers in bloom.
Jan 29, 2017
Jan 29, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
My blood flows with gold
my fingers alight with fire
it propels and consumes me
to an all encompassing desire.
Completely in the wind,
utterly in the rain
A sweet abandonment
into the delightful pain.
My skin - too tight
My movements - too constrained
Even a bellow from a mountain top
leaves this feeling untamed
A power so wild
so ferocious, yet so compressed
wails at the boundaries
of the unexpressed.
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 9:24 PM UTC
If you wake up in the night,
in a pool of sugar sweat
then baby you know what it feels like
to be in utter love-death.
In the morning, I die a little
as I get dressed in my mind
The afternoon reprieves a little,
as I smile stupidly love blind.
The evening gets a little tricky,
as my hopes get laced with doubt
I shake my head, my hands and body
as I try to shake you out.
Nothing seems to help
as the suns intensify their burn
the ones at the edges of my fingers
that repeatedly refuse to learn.
Logic can get ******
reason is long out of breath
in trying to keep up
with this feverish love-death.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
Sometimes you forget
that the window is
reflective
and you impose yourself
on to the world.
A gentle reminder,
of your own disposition,
and the way that it
escorts the sunlight
to your thoughts.
Your exuberant leaps
of elation
fling the curtains
open wide.
Yet your deep sighs
of exasperation
confuse the image
on both sides.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
I see the world the way I see myself
One, simple set of eyes.
Desperately searching for that hope
that tomorrow will defy itself.
That it will bring something else
Other than today.
Much like the rest, I close my eyes
at times,
when the uncertainty seems too much
Or divert my attention away from the sky,
towards the leafy mulch.
I can do it, the game that is.
The slow walk onward to the edge.
I too can march with sturdy shoes,
then swiftly step backwards off the ledge.
At times, when I am feeling particularly lost
I will muster up the desire to take a peak
but the world always waits both eyes wide open
an unwavering stare,
churning within the unfathomable deep.
Muddling, my eyes water - my fists clutching
at my tear soaked chest.
Even death doesn't seem like enough,
for I will not know the truth
even then.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 6:56 PM UTC