I want to be a creator, a maker,
to put my heart on paper,
drop words on ground, to bloom for goodness saker,
into swirls and loops, that say if I'm a give or a taker.
put my prints into earth, rebirth,
let soil separate stubbornness from worth.
stars folded into matter, like batter,
like I am and he is, more than what shatters,
and what I roll out, kneed out,
will breath out my souls doubts
that I am a creator, a maker
that swirls around equators,
who is and will be, more than I can wager.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 11:38 AM UTC
with eyes still closed, my mind awakes
to the ocean upon my door,
it knocks with salty insolence,
my land locked soul to lure.
the thought of coral in chandeliers,
tempts my feet from bed to floor,
but twas the sound of kelp being plucked,
that enticed me to explore.
a tidal wave is just outside,
where mackerel dance and more,
schools of sea-life swim upstairs,
to feed off shipwrecked floors.
with eyes wide open, my mind asleep,
my skin drops on the shore,
my hands scale through my algae hair,
and i hear the turtles lore.
the manatees discuss it too,
a tale of souls at war,
who hear the knock and find reprieve,
in an oceans wandering floor.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 1:16 AM UTC
i put my ego on the killing floor
thick blood drops, i watch the door
but no escape for who i am
blood drops thick, i am no more
oh, God my soul, ransom me
from beams above, divinity
like honey on my wounds it pours
and washes clean that killing floor
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC
confetti snow, so pretty and untouched,
paint me pink.
pink so I can dive into a well of unreason.
i'll dance with jesters and kiss them goodnight.
never think of the tree where i've buried tomorrows.
all my tomorrows.
then snow turns to slush, pink drips, not my color.
paint me black.
not for death but for classic, a backdrop, a canvas.
paint me black to be strong, an anchor for flurries.
stuck in black.
neither black, neither pink,
paint me white.
white like that snow that turned my feet frozen.
white like the snow, like the pure, like the light.
white like the empty.
yes, paint me white.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 4:13 PM UTC
we look for ground
our roots can grow in,
soil in which we'll feed.
but I need earth
that quakes and moves me,
earth that I can breathe.
I want a man
who overwhelms,
so loud my screams seem meek
a man so wild
he makes my heart
a damsel in relief
o, let me grow,
and love and live
in more than dirt and dust
let me grow in
earth that keeps
the wild inside of us
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 9:37 AM UTC
Oh, I'll sleep today, dream through tomorrow,
and wake when the quaking is done.
But if sleeping is numbness and dreaming withdrawal,
then what kind of victory'd be won?
Cut through my insides and quarter my borders;
wrapped up 'fore they've fired the gun.
Strength, I now see you, standing perfected,
then willfully you shatter undone.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC
I want to sit
and watch the heavens move.
Saturated darkness,
not empty but infused.
Vast like an ocean
light swims in ebon grooves.
Feeding off the matter,
every inch of black is fuel.
Particles like creatures
in currents more than smooth.
To be absorbed by darkness
is to feel sublimely used.
I want to sit
and watch the heavens move,
reminded that I'm made of dust
and swim dark currents too.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 12:41 PM UTC
I believe in the pull of the moon.
I believe in the things unseen that hold us together.
I believe in subtlety; that we are influenced by the intangible much more than we’d suppose.
I believe in spirit speaking to spirit, changing us from the inside out.
I believe in light that flows into the very cracks of darkness, until daylight is all that is seen.
I believe in change, and reinvention and leaps of faith.
I believe who I am today, is not who I will be tomorrow.
I believe in the fire, the flood and the flesh-that love only deepens to the depth of your sacrifice.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC
i have this fantasy in my mind
to sing the blues
to sing the songs of lonesome people
to belt it out from the bottom of my bellows to the tippy tops
i see my dark silhouette in even darker places
bringing sorrowful songs a touch of sweetness and whole lotta soul
soul that'll shake the lonesome loose
i could hide my face and bare all emotion
for strange familiar faces
so i'm crazy, yes, and secretly want to be a lounge singer
a lady of the night if you please
but think it over, then tell me truly that
to breath the blues for those who feel them
doesn't entice you as well
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:15 PM UTC
this single word
INTUITION
the most valuable thing i own
the most elusive
faith in body & spirit & soul
to bring me to all matter
faith in the simple, the subtle, the small
to elucidate my happiness
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 7:14 PM UTC