People forget to enjoy trees.
I like to pass the time
on car rides
watching the stray branches
bending in variations
whooshing in the breeze.
Sadly in between these emerald giants
black and distracting
the pattern spanning
I watch for the eye catching greens
and suttle browns
waving at me as I pass.
I always wave back.
Think Bukowski style
These salted tears blur the view
you hammering at my heart.
Blow by blow
the world fades some more
and all that was is folly
25 words on crying
In the beginning when Adam met Eve beneath the canopy of paradise
they agreed on most things.
They basked in the perfection of all that surround, laughing at each other's jokes.
One day Adam carved a gift for Eve.
Tirelessly wildling the branch of an oak tree.
"Tools", he boosted as she stroked the small utensils.
"I'll call them forks," said Eve happily setting the table.
What came next sparked an age old debate, as Eve grasped her fork in the left hand, Adam in his right.
"What are you doing?" he vexed, scratching his head.
"That hand is incorrect!"
"Tis not my sweet, it is the hand I use to eat, I am in my right mind my dear, you are the uncultured one here!"
And so it began, as they reproduced.
Cain was right handed as was Seth, but poor Able was born with his mother's fondness for left.
Left hands unite
I watch the yellow grasslands growing slow,
safe inside my window frame where heartbreak can not reach.
I'll remain the captured queen silently content with my small space.
My conscious clean, no blood to stain.
The golden beast of the sahara soaks in the open fields.
Afraid of no one and nothing but hunger.
Crowned long ago, his reign will outlast the wars, the floods, the drought.
Hands enormous enough to ****, gentle enough to love.
I remain, eyes fixed on the beast as he belts a roar.
The sound vibrates my glassy outlook, coaxing a scream of my own.
Salty tears and shuddered cries, break the crusted lips.
Pain erupts, long lodged deep in the gut.
The broken wail of majesty, shakes lose the inner me.
"What a day I had"
said the high heel to the boot.
"Up so many stairs, my heels are pooped!"
"You think that's rough, I have you beat.
Try treading mud, in the foulest feet!"
"It's rough out there, for shoes these days,
with all the gum, the mud and rain!"
The boot, nods back
The high heels right,
shoes should really be on strike!
"Let's quit, heel
take a trip
Finally we can truly live"
Always waltzing as she walks
a scarlet queen of color
Her darling poses, win her roses
men captured by her glamour.
A little Diva
What can I say it provoked me.
The smokey black slithered with sultry grace
passed all my carefully placed defenses.
Humor me, it spoke
caressing the ear.
I watched the glow of it's single eye
searching my mind
The black became a tether
What can I say I did nothing,
little lamb laid to the slaughter.
I remember it choking, the smokey black.
Like a raven haired lover,
A mistress of shadow wills my curiosity
In that moment, lost to the movement
I would or could never return.
Pinned to obsession
staggering the lines of possession
A rebel's tango begins
the staccato steps to be my end.
about letting your problems win, night anguishes