ECKate: Favorites

Oct 2013 ECKate

Mike Hauser

There's trouble growing in the garden
As the carrots make fun of those that are green
The potatoes are keeping their eyes out
Staring down those bleeding heart beets

Leaves of spinach are flexing their muscles
And of course the corn are all ears
Broccoli is green with envy
With the onions always in tears

The rhubarb has a thing for the strawberries
Can't seem to get along with anyone else
New to the winter garden which has the vegies talking
Not sure this frost will ever melt

The asparagus has been here forever
And the pole beans are always vaulting the fence
The lima's are out searching for the wisdom of the succotash
As the lettuce wonders where its head went

Yes there's trouble growing in the garden
Like we haven't all seen this before
The only time they get along is flash frozen and packaged
Chilling behind the grocer's freezer door

Oct 2013 ECKate

Sky of Silk and Cotton

Oct 2013 ECKate

Kagami

Sky of Silk and Cotton

I laid under the sky on a bed of down
Wishing that you could be with me.
Staring at the black sky with patterns
Of sparkly green and blue,
I think of a sky filled with cotton, only
In our world.
Because in the dark days or cold nights,
It would be the only thing we know.
Pulling the sky down on top of us to keep warm,
All the while, utilizing our heat and lust to
Amplify.
Ghost your fingertips across my hips, dear.
Gently bite my neck, dear.
Drag your callouses down my legs, dear.

Send shivers down my spine, dear.

But you can't. Not yet.
We can still dream, and we can still imagine.

Dream for me; the sky of silk and cotton waits at the inside of your eyelids,
Enticing and beautiful. Picture the world where nothing else matters
And feel my touch, hear my heart beat.
See the sky of silk and cotton blur and fade as we drown in eachother.

Oct 2013 ECKate

in perpetuity and onwards for-over-ever

Oct 2013 ECKate

softcomponent

in perpetuity and onwards for-over-ever

over the edge of the unitary verse written in the solitary confinement of the mind is where you went insane and began hallucinating the life you live today. there were flowers and knives. flowers and knives, waterfalls. countless counties all incorporated into greater provinces which collapsed into imaginary boundaries rung-up at the cash register as 'nation-states.' you waited months for nothing, only to toy with more escapist sentiment in the forked decision between reckless abandon and suicide. who are you to feel so entitled? who are you to imagine this life is something one could arrange from the silk and ore left strewn throughout the clear-cut forest of your atomic quarks or dendrites from string theory you can only create as a mental mural and never more? in the wake of your last moment in-sanity (prior to your exit from the womb) - you asked me what I meant when I was silent. I told you nothing - not as statement, but as silence - and you simply whistled and wailed in an ecstatic blend of distress and joy, happiness and sadness, elation and indifference, loathing and love - who was the angel detaching your pod from the mother-ship? you have never seen your mother from the outside before. you have only known her intimately - been a part of her. been her very soul. you have never multiplied like this before and that's what it is to know yourself. having children is your soul in transit - your soul multiplied by 2 - finally, the child gazes into your eyes and knows itself. knows who it used to be. knows it's departure is simply the addition of its perspective to the ever dividing multiverse. dust to dust, ashes to ashes one whispers upon the death bed. light to dark, something to nothing one whispers upon the death bed. the multiverse is a binary sequence of 0 and 1 in perpetuity - from birth to death to death to life to life to gone to gone to found from something to nothing to nowhere to you

reading these words

hearing them spoken

you are dreaming

you are always dreaming

you are a truth come dream and a dream come true

and you forgot. you still forget. you will never remember.

*you will never remember.

http://www.live-ambient.de/mp3/spheric_lounge_through_the_waves.mp3

Oct 2013 ECKate

DURING THE PRELUDE

Oct 2013 ECKate

Kyle J Schwartz

DURING THE PRELUDE

When the boxelder beetle died in front
of me, it was in good company.  The drapes
covering the wood and pipes softened
the sunlight illuminating stain-glass arches
behind the *****, shrouding dozens of other
dead boxelders that littered the tiles.  As
the bug slowed to a halt, each leg twitched
instead of moving forward.  The sunday service
then began and the larger pipes of the *****
rumbled through the chapel, causing the floor
to hum along with the numerous insect corpses.
Each beetle vibrated to a slight blur and shifted
in one direction or the other, except for the one
still living; it gripped to the tiles beneath.  But
as the song continued, the boxelder began
to shake like the rest, and by the final
cadence of the prelude, the six spindles
carrying the bug curled like hooks under
its shell, lowering the boxelder bug
enough to allow a fraction less light
to fall underneath it, just like the rest.

Oct 2013 ECKate

My Name is Autumn

Oct 2013 ECKate

Tea

My Name is Autumn

Green morphing into amber
Brown dark texture
Underfoot layer after layer
Deep complexities found
Underneath earthy ground
Change is in a chilled air
Autumn smiles
Sweeps back her hair
She doesn’t know it
It isn’t planed
Life just takes her by the hand
See myself inside these trees
Leafs burn bright
Fade and leave.
My name is autumn
Life is fast
Change just happens
Nothing lasts
But its so beautiful
Full with color
Wind it shakes me
He is my lover
But I know nothings
Sure to last
So I embrace this fire
With every breath
Let go of all my leaves
Let life and wind just set me free

Oct 2013 ECKate

Stand beside me

Oct 2013 ECKate

Tea

Stand beside me

I am a collector of hurt souls and sour people
Taking them through themselves
Answering confused looks
Nudging toward harsh truths
Laying out my ***** laundry

Everyone has something
Venerability equaling authenticity
In meeting people who are worth meeting
Showing yourself
hurt to heal,
a trade of sorts
Making deals
But you would not bargen
In the mist of all these people
I fell…
Fell
In
Love
In love with
Making others feel understood
Standing alone, I stood with everyone
They all felt they knew me
Truth is they don’t understand
But you do and we meet each other where I am
You walk me through myself and you through you
Not standing in a sea alone
But standing next to you

Oct 2013 ECKate

The Purpose of Light

Oct 2013 ECKate

Feeler

The Purpose of Light

Rhythmic typing on the dusty old keyboard,
a rehearsed and half hearted greeting committed to memory through convenience.
These days blur together with the hello's and the goodbye's,
incoming strangers trying to find a purpose.
This desk is like a prison that asks too much and pays too little,
with smiles from distance ghosts and greetings from wounded travelers.
My veins are collecting dusk as my bones grind together
burning at both ends, my seams are frayed and falling apart,
I'm a rag doll.
He stitches patches on my missing parts and bullet wounds,
he calls it love,
picking up the pieces and cleaning up the blood dripping from my bad decisions and messy intentions.
He understands me
with his innocence peeking through his smile,
his eyes are like windows to a world you find in the dreams of little children.
Sometimes I cry at night, wrapped in his arms
the wind of doubt and fear chilling my skin and bones
I want to wrap myself in the warmth of his confidence
basking in the enlightenment that are his thoughts.
My statue, rock of truth.

This dreary life lightened by the simple reality of the breeze that is him,
rustling the dust within me.
My truth.
My escape from dusty keyboards.

Oct 2013 ECKate

Figment

Oct 2013 ECKate

Driftwood

Figment

Some days the clocks move the opposite way depending on her mood. She could never control the amount of time she needed. Just the objects that measured how long she had been lost. 4 am had always come much too quickly when she left for work. I always tried to be conscious to see her off and help her stop crying. Absence makes the heart grow weaker and the absence of sleep did the same to her emotions. All that is remembered for sure is the rustle of winter coats, wet skin, nausea, and ice crunching beneath boots. Could I have expected I would have ever appreciated sadness?