This


Fragile


Shell


Has


Cracked.


Our world, that lies
On the turtle's back;

Roots planted,
By the Sky Mother's hands.

The moon hoarsely laughs,
Through its throat ****
As the fish swim,
In chaotic patterns;
Mocking the circumstance.

While the west wind
Swiftly sniffs,
Blood rains down
The daughter's left armpit.
Her corpse kisses dirt,
We smoke her heart that grows;
Asking questions to the sky,
In our heavy clouds of smoke.

On my right hand
Lies stains of grace,
Rolling hills,
Blossomed buds,
Serene still lakes.
The flesh of creation,
Fingers that have mastered life,
And flipping the coin to the side
Where death will suffice.

My left hand represents
All that is ugly,
Lying through the grime of death,
Hiding in the darkness,
Concealing its grotesque appearance;

Crooked fingers and choices
Digging nails in search of healing,
Some form of sorcery.

We wash our hands
In love
And aggression.
Pushing and pulling knuckles
In cooperation and competition,
Are we not mirrored,
Ourselves just reflections?

Who is glass

And

Who is skin?

We shatter each other
For a deeper look within.

One and the same,
In opposite of ways.
Blending into grey,
Necessary to remain.

This fragile shell has cracked,
The world on the turtle's back
These empty hands must find
Palms to grasp, to keep the balance
In life's weighty strands.

-SLuR

I over ponder
I'm a stapled down wanderer
That seems to be my problem

I only wish to be as innocent as three
In amazement about everything
So much beauty and questioning

Why is the world so big?

Why does daddy have to work again?

Why is there angry and mean human beings?

Why is the sky so big when I look up high?

Why?

I look at my precious little three knowing she knows more than me

i belong to the daybreak
when humans with sleepy eyes
and mousy morning hearts
are brave enough to face
the scarily mundane world once again.

i belong to nature
to the hidden wonders of the world
there's unknown modern hanging gardens of babylon
and the secret sanctuaries
where the teenagers of the megalopolis
go to rest.

i belong to the ocean
in the deepest trenches
no man has seen
where it is quiet and still
and darkness reigns supreme.

i belong to outer space
in the galaxies who are
strangers we'd like to know
there's dark matter that swirls
space dust coalesces
and stars are born to die all over again.

i belong to the rain
when the sky cries and
the typhoons turn to drizzle
the water runs through
empty houses and thrift stores in the gutters
and on and on, to underground,
to God knows where.

i belong to the night
to the time when the busiest people
submit to slumber
but a few who are not
bothered by lightyears
sit by their windowsills
to watch the stars.

*i belong to the world
and the world belongs to me.

I never realized
How many birds
There really are

They seem to melt
Into the landscape
As they hop
To and fro
In the manicured
Suburban shrubs
And pepper the sky
Floating in place
Against some unfelt
Wind current

While walking
I locked gazes with
A slate colored dove
And we stared
I don't know how
He felt about me
Or what he felt
About me

I thought he was
Elegant
Even though he was
The color of fresh tar
While it bakes
In the Pennsylvania sun
In some hazy culdesac
In the corner of some
Replaceable
Reproducible
Childhood

He hopped off his perch
A rusty sign post
That had been bifurcated
By some unknown
Bolt or hand

And skittered behind some
Sickly looking ferns
In a dirt patch of an
Unknown neighbors yard

A gang of Robins
Flittered over my head
Landing down the street
Passing a pinecone
Between them
Pecking and tearing at it

I looked behind
The sickly ferns
And found the
Unknown neighbors cat
Doing the same thing
To my slate colored dove

I shooed it away
It dropped the dove
Hastily
In the loose dirt
And retreated

I looked down at the dove
And it laid there
Its breast heaving
Silent
One eye cast into the dirt
The other looking up
Watching the same Robins
Fly back to where
They had come from


And the slate slowly
Turned sanguine
As its down became
Saturated with the
Run off from the
Puncture wounds

The cat sat off
A few yards away
Flicking its tail
Calico and smug

And I stood by
The dove as
The heaving slowly
Stopped
Ground to a
Halt really
And then the eyes
Weren't looking
At the sky or the dirt

I finally felt
That unseen
Wind
And continued
On my way

As the sun shines,
All of creation rejoice.
As the trees sway,
All of its residents sing and tweet in harmony.

As the rivers flow in tranquility,
All of the sea creatures swim in their beauty,
As the coral reefs provide a shelter,
A home,
For the creatures of the deep.

For Mother nature is one of the greatest gifts,
The trees, the animals, the open ocean,
Are all hers,
But yet she doesn't use them to abuse us,
Instead she lets us observe them,
Admire them,
And yet we still
destroy them.

                                    Jonesy 2016 ©