Off from the crimson rose drops a last petal
Twirling, spinning into a void
Once there was brightness, fading only to black
A mind once busy left blank
Teetering on a razor sharp edge
Breath held in life’s longest wait
Searching for anything to occupy endless wait
Then down drifts the crimson petal
A handhold to pull away from the edge
Distract from the pastime of staring into the void
Grasping for any detail there in the blank
Looking for a spot of hope in the deep black
Further fall to the oppressive black
Weaving a story to carry through the wait
Though that thick blanket is better left blank
A song dependant on one lonely petal
The only thing to ever survive the void
Sitting, singing there so close to the edge
An evil beaconing urges, jump over this edge
Fall through through the black
Came through the void,
The body freezes, it is committed to it’s wait
By feet settle a single crimson petal
The mind shies away, thoughts are safer blank
Why do we wait for the world to go blank?
Oh, but what harm over this edge?
When hope only appears as a lonesome petal
One speck of crimson to soften the black
Why be plagued by this wait?
Not even a whole rose to draw from the void
Don’t look longingly into the void
Knowing that it will finally be true blank
Is this all to life, an endless wait?
Until a simple, small step over the edge
Waiting to fade from grey existence to black
Searching for hope in the symbol of a petal
Jan 2, 2017
Jan 2, 2017 at 11:40 PM UTC
Up on the hilltops
Your chilling breath providing relief
From the too close summer sun
Thanks be to Mother Mountain
Low in the valley
Rushes sweet, cool water
Quenching our thirst for life
Thanks be to Mother Mountain
There on those sliding slopes
Perch the choke-cherry trees
With bark to ease any pain
Thanks be to Mother Mountain
Up, above, around and below
Thick trees for shade in which
The succulent strawberries grow to quiet stomachs
Thanks be to Mother Mountain
Oh, how your rays bathe
To give warmth to guard
From Mother Mountain’s icy breath
Thanks be to Father Sun
Deep in the valley you bake
The ever present sage
Brush, scent to be brought alive by rare rains
Thanks be to Father Sun
Oh, there in Mother Mountain’s
Deep crevice, where-ever the running rivers dare
Pause, you warm it so we may bathe
Thanks be to Father Sun
All around and about, on sparse sand and
Through thick trees you provide the
Light to feed the berries and the choke-cherry leaves
Thanks be to Father Sun
Oh, but the time for Father Sun
Must die, and so he turns the watch
Over to his ever caring son
Thanks be to Brother Moon
He who holds all our secrets safe
Whether they be the love of the young,
Or the laments of those who leave tears in the dark
Thanks be to Brother Moon
The children lay their heads to rest
On beds of sand and pillows of needles of pine
Squirrels dash to holes in trees, under his silent witness
Thanks be to Brother Moon
Oh, the secrets he knows are what brings him to life
The most sacred of which are those
Of brothers and sisters, free to his ears
Thanks be to Brother Moon
Oct 24, 2016
Oct 24, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
What is heard cannot be unheard
Words cannot be snatched from the breeze
Much as some might wish it to be so
What is said cannot be unsaid
“Do you want to fail out of school?”
“I wish she would just listen sometimes.”
“Is that a dude or a chick? You just can’t tell anymore…”
“Some people!”
All words floating on the breeze
They cannot be snatched back, those words
And all can hear your thoughts,
When you put them to voice
“Oh, I love her shoes.”
“Careful there love.”
“Here let me help”
“Thank you kind sir”
More words found floating in the air
Don’t you think those there
Are so much more pleasant
To spread around the summer breeze?
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 11:12 PM UTC
There is nothing like
The smell of sage in the morn
Wafting on the lazy breeze
There is a place
Hidden, low in the valley
Where the sego lily grows
And there the angel
Made of everlasting stone
Watches those that came before
But now it’s time for
The sound of children whooping
As they merrily run through
Ever the woods stand
Tall, watching proudly over
The fields of flowers and grass
The mountain stone sees
What happens in its shadows
Ready to protect, its charge
And in that valley
Green sage and red brush combine
To show of heaven on earth
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 3:29 PM UTC
Even in the darkest abyss the light
Filters down, bringing illuminance as far as it dares
For that blaze still gleams, far above
And fights to bring just a ray down, to you
And it may seem miles away, that brilliance
That your soul longs to touch once again
That ease, so far buried in your recollection
That it seems like a haze, or a far away dream
But yet, you will not dwell in that deep dark for eternity
That void which threatens to devour you,
Will not always hold sway
For either the light will triumph, or oblivion
And yet, the waters above the chasm bear down upon you
A comforting weight upon thy shoulders
That settles around you, seducing you to sleep
That is alright, for a little while, but remember
To sleep is to dream, but to wake is to live
And to ever again bathe in the luminescence, beckoning from above
You must wake, and fight, and strive towards that glow
For that dream, to ever become life.
Sep 5, 2016
Sep 5, 2016 at 4:38 PM UTC
Let me tell you about the day, dear friends
In which the world continued to turn
I know, I know,
It surprised me too
How could the sun continue to rise and fall
Without its greatest subject to shine on?
How can the earth remember to turn
When the sky has splintered and fallen
Spearing us all?
Leaving one lost, lonely little boy
Who had always defined himself
By other people
And this God on Earth
Being of Light and Mercy
Was all he wished to grow up to be
The avenging angel, the gentle hand
Or the gentle whisper
“Is that really a good idea”
Would never be heard of again
But the world would continue to turn
The sky would rain in reverse and
Eventually, piece itself back together
The lavender lost their luster, that day
In mourning, of the sunshine
No one believed would come the next day
But the world would continue to turn
And a lost, lonely little boy
Would learn to stand outside of the shadows
When no one believed his legs could even hold him up
His world shattered, and then reformed again
Let me tell you about the day, dear friends
In which the world continued to turn
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
I have no apologies
I am who I am
I will not change for your comfort
I do not care for your policies
I have no apologies
I do not care if you come to accept me
I am learning to be comfortable in my skin
I am learning how to know myself
I have no apologies
I am not who I am for you
I am my own person
I have tried to change
I have tried to apologize
I have tried to live for your comfort
I am done
I have no apologies
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
Silver sparkles
Lost in a sea of purple fabric
Hair singed straight
Face painted
Laces stealing my breath away
Bittersweet, the hug
From an oft-absent father
The sinking feeling, unsatisfied
Without a clue as to why
Dread mounting, anxiety shouting
“You’ll be the prettiest girl at Prom”
Matte black
Broken by a silver bowtie
Hair combed back
Neat and orderly, obscuring
The sea of butterflies I hide
Euphoric, the hug
From the lady I’ll escort
Bright flashes in my eyes
Thumps of congratulations, I am
The lucky man to take the prettiest girl to the ball
“May I have this dance?”
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 7:37 PM UTC
You know, my mother never forgave my father, either
Though he did not leave us for the darkness of eternal slumber
Instead, for the heat and stink and sand and sulfur of a special piece of hell on Earth.
And his name, too, was locked away, but for the times it was aired out to dry
Like ***** laundry.
And when he dared to show himself
My mother, too, could not lose her frown.
No whiskey on his breath, but eyes that begged to forget
A cheek that dared to stubble and scrape as we’d waltz
And knock the paintings from the walls.
Away again he’d go, taking all the warmth, to leave us in that blue-black cold.
My mother got up to early, to iron our clothes and turn on the stove
But no warmth could splinter the chronic anger left in the loneliness.
No one ever thanked her, either.
What did I know?
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 3:24 PM UTC
When the nights grow dim and the shadows grow longer
I can't help my mind but to wander
And I find myself remembering the nights I spent with you
Did we ever even had a chance?
I know we thought we had it all
It was nothing but a cold winter romance
Warmer than the air until the sun began to shine
And I suppose I could have told you I could never be your girlfriend
But its hard when I hadn't even told myself
And I suppose you can make it all my fault
When we never even had a chance
And I can take the pain from this broken heart
But I can't shoulder the blame all alone
Do you even remember the same things I do?
You talk of the love we used to share
If that is love, do I really want a part of it?
It often felt more like hate to me
There was never even a chance
So I learn to take a breath
And learn to love myself
And maybe now, I will have a chance.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:25 PM UTC