Well Annie now you've done it
through your gyrations,  characterizations
imitations
a spot of light of spirit
flipped out into the ether
like some kind of spiritual dandruff
all crystal prisms
twinkling stars shook off of you
and floated
through my eyes and ears
and penetrated and infused
my pumping heart
through my circulatory system
snapping synaptic changes,
touching those places
of
dreams and trances.

Well Annie now you've done it all night long
with images of Olive Oil
and no Popeye
I have become a sailor man
unmoored from the safety of the slip
dragging the anchor
until the tether breaks
and find myself floating
on some Jungian sea
of the unconscious far away from the shore.

Well Annie now you've really done it -
How will this all play out
when walking down the faux marble hallways
as I roll up one wave of imitation
and down another in
clients/secretaries/billing clerks
deranged psychiatrists stories
and all of this reality
grabbing trying ranting riffing
how is this all going to play out
when strange guerilla theatre
erupts on backwards
in administrators offices
and leadership committee meetings
when I spread my  legs
as my grand opening
in carrot top hangings
and turn to clients
offer them too
this spirit spark of
courage.

Well you've really done it this time Annie
when my door is locked
and pagers are begging for my attention
but I will be in the room at that desk
throwing rules, regulations
and my professional reputation
to the current winds of unwinding
truths and soulful stories.
When they turn to me
and ask for my forgiveness
in their true confession
or when I shift shapes
to the big onion
when everyone who wanders near weeps
when they ask me for that magic sentence
to make it all okay
or write a treatment plan
or
just a hand on the shoulder;
as they begin to talk
like rooms of old echoes-
I will tell them that will cost them extra.

You've done it now Annie forever
in my minute little world
rocked the boat
that spirit
like the butterfly wings causing the hurricane
of courage.

You've done it now Olive Oil Annie
I have found my spinach
and
freedom cannot be far behind...

How many times do I have to die before I get the chance to live?

Losing myself, but
Finding someone else.
Don't wanna be held
At the lost and found,
Waiting for the right one
To take me home.
A stepping stone-
Not skipped but thrown
Kisses the skin then sinks in
To a sea of possibilities,
Sinking me to it's floor;
The core of my soul
Where I know I drown.
Alone in my own hole
I choke on my hope
And hold myself down
Bound with ropes of resistance
To remind me of my situation
I placed myself in
And caged all that could've been
With chains of my rage, and
Hate and questions.
Oppression imposed as a lesson,
To lift my heart and crush it in my hands.
Feel all the shards of who I am
Stab at my palms and slither through my fingers,
Slitting tender flesh and finally
Falling, crashing to the ground.
Shattered soul and silent sound.
Liquify the unknown
And flow into a hollow hold
Of helpless nothing,
Now I know
There is no home below the cold,
Where no wind would wish to blow,
No-
Not in that frigid box
Of lost and found.

Unable to reach out
she sits alone...in tears....
she sits by the old tree
waiting
a little girl in tears.
Wrapping her arms around her knees
she embraces the ache of fear.
There is a light in the house so near
casting soft shadows on a moonlit face.
Voice serenade the darkness
inflaming the embers
of a belonging so close
but never close enough....
for her to reach.