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Jan 2018 · 602
HRTsOnFyR Jan 2018
I'm sitting somewhere by a fire
Listening to the Old Gods
Tell tales
about how the Earth,
devours men.
Oct 2017 · 445
Real Men Need Not Lie
HRTsOnFyR Oct 2017
He laughs at my ignorance,
Me, at his arrogance...
If I'm really no match,
Why not grant me a fairer chance?
Aug 2017 · 563
Love is A Verb
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2017
I solved the riddle, Alice dear,
This weren't your dream at all...
Your dreams are host to nobler men,
No princes here; Just frogs.
They flap their wet and gleaming lips,
Professing works of love...
Now dripping wet from all their spit,
And chapped from all their rubs,
You still don't feel a bit more safe,
And just a bit less loved.
Jul 2017 · 361
The Anonymous Stylist
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
The man on the corner stopped her short,
Signaling through the window at a pile of hats,
To a crisply woven straw fedora and satin bowtie,
He winked the remark, "I think that hat there, it was made for you, mam."
And then off he went  down the crowded walk.
Perplexed I was as I carried on for nearly three blocks
'Fore I got the nerve to turn on back,
The enthusiasm for what he said had quite convinced me,
Never mind the fact that I'd never been much into hats.
The sloping brim curved above my brow with true perfection
And the satin folds gave the bright black bow such a shiny light,
The maker's name was a Peter Grimm, near a small white rabbit,
And it brought to mind how the month before she had felt her clocks blow,
And her soul fell a-flying down that rabbit's hole,
When the baby left, and the world turned darkly unfamiliar,
And she had no pill that could turn her back to big again.
Just her tiny, tumbling figurine of selfhood,
Behind an ever shifting mirrored wall of dreaming
Lost among the lines of the angry mind of the old Red King,
But the hat felt safe, and perhaps she'd even felt a wee bit taller,
Inches feel like miles when dimensions move beyond the realms of normal time.
Plus the ornamental headwear offered comfort,
And put a snap back in her step for just a beat...
With a silent thanks for the unnamed haberdashery advisor,
She and her hat with the ******* sash,
And the rabbit stitched in,
Bobbed along the seams of Seattle streets
With a joyful heart and a big broad grin.
Jul 2017 · 440
On Bended Knee
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
Please grant me freedom From their demented minds,
Their cruel words,
Their bitter, hateful hearts...
Or, simply, give me death.
Jul 2017 · 324
Confused Little Hearts
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
Her soul bares the scars of the lightning bolt's burn,
Is it innocence lost,
or innocence returned?
Jul 2017 · 418
Peter Grimm
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
His fingers play strings
On my body so tight
As he drew back and forth
On these chords of my light
Unspoken melodies and haunting compositions
A song rife with grief, every note well positioned
Peter Grimm writes a symphony of disembodied souls
Warms his bones by a fire that he's fanned from the coals
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
I followed a black jack rabbit
Through the wormholes of his brain
Taking pictures of his nightmares
As I tasted all his pain
His stories, meant to scare me,
Meant to fill my heart with dread
Only caused me to look deeper
At the scars between our heads
He never really meant to show me
All the things that I did see
For the tough skin he'd been growing
Now, transparent as the sea
I watched the brackish waters
Tumble through his web of veins
So alive and full of creatures
Waving wildly in his mane
He spoke of sweet devotions and a love as pure as gold
Yet I couldn't shake the feeling that my heart weren't his to hold
His words could not bring comfort if they didn't ring out true
Like a script resounds of duty,
This love weren't mine,
That's all I knew
Jul 2017 · 270
A Calm Bedside Manner (10W)
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
Disengage from power plays that do not end in ******
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
The greatest power I have ever truly witnessed is kindness
Jul 2017 · 270
Logic 10W
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2017
I do not fear death,
So I can't fear you.
Jun 2017 · 271
Untitled 2 (10W)
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
Why'd you only call me when it was half mast?
Also not original, a slight variation of a song lyric...
Jun 2017 · 283
Untiled 10W
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
Man's highest ideals;
These are the Angelic parts of Us.
Jun 2017 · 1.6k
21 Word Poem
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
That you are not loved yet is because a wave breaks at just the right time and not a minute sooner...
This is a line from a post off of Facebook... It is not an original of mine, but it is beautiful, and should be shared nonetheless.
The author is Unknown
Jun 2017 · 341
Nature's Medicine
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
Getting the dust of a Lily on the tip of your nose
Or contemplating the delicate way that the Ivy climbs this wooden post
Is a sure way to renew and re-inspire the fragile soul
Jun 2017 · 486
An All Consuming Love
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
Call it what you want
Surrender, retreat, apathy...
Perhaps it's nothing more than total disgust
And irreconcilable ​loneliness
She wants to go where someone gives a ****,
But no one does
And the boys are better off without the image
Of her fading slowly away in spirit
To die while one is still alive is more heinous a thing than to drop out of a race that you don't believe in, and never signed up for in the first place
Whatever the prize is, it can't be as good as the freedom of not having to go mad trying to protect oneself from the bitterness of their ugliness or the shallowness of their greed
And walking away from them doesn't help either
She's too ****** up to enjoy normalcy and too damaged to ever feel like she really belongs
She'd rather start over, and leave the jackals to feed amongst themselves, and the insects to writhe about, blindly in the dark
She might have felt differently, had they never lied to her about how much they loved...
Jun 2017 · 339
Mother of a 7th Sun
HRTsOnFyR Jun 2017
She no longer fears death,
For she would rather be with ghosts
Than live with zombies.
When Rainbows turn from Divine promises
To sky clad signatures of death from babies,
She's almost sure that Hell itself must be
A better place than this...
Apr 2017 · 2.9k
Untitled by Chanda Kaushik
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2017
I have outgrown many things.
I have outgrown relatives who gladly offer criticism but not support.
I have outgrown my need to meet family's unrealistic expectations of me.
I have outgrown girls who wear masks and secretly rejoice at my mistakes.
I have outgrown shrinking myself for those who are intimidated by my intelligence and outspoken nature both.
I have outgrown friends who cannot celebrate my accomplishments.
I have outgrown people who conveniently disappear whenever life gets a little dark.
I have outgrown those who take pleasure in gossiping and spreading negativity.
I have outgrown dull,meaningless conversations that feel forced.
I have outgrown those who don't take a stand against ignorance and injustice.
I have outgrown trying to please everyone.
I have outgrown society constantly telling me I'm not beautiful,smart, or worthy enough to achieve anything.
I have outgrown my tendency to fill my mind with self doubt and insecurity decades ago.
I have outgrown trying to find reasons not to love my humble self.
I have outgrown anything and anyone that does not enrich the essence of my soul.
I have outgrown many things and I've never felt freer.

~Poem by Chanda Kaushik
Apr 2017 · 463
Falling With You
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2017
So here we are,
My falling Star,
Upon this road of life...
Two souls, so lost,
Whose paths did cross
Whilst roaming through the night.
With child's eyes
We recognized
Our parent's silent grief;
Their wasted years
Soon disappeared,
As time's a ruthless theif.
Sole heirs to pain,
We've shared this shame,
And felt the fears, which sought us.
Confusions grew,
As no one knew,
Just how much they'd never taught us.
Self hatred bred,
And blindly led,
Our rebel-minded causes.
Such sweet escapes
Those drugs create,
When sorrow finally pauses.
Hearts turned to stone,
We've wept alone,
Convinced the World forgot us.
With every chance
Each circumstance
Did have, they surely fought us.
Yet here we are
My falling Star,
Two broken hearted lovers,
Whom fate did yearn
To grow, to learn...
And so we're bound forever.
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2017
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.

If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.

if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,
in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine.
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2017
I met an insomniac through a Craigslist post

Who alleged: She’d stolen > 2000 hearts

On subways/escalators/sidewalks – men turn to toast

(By her gorgon glance, she boasts, even testicles depart) .

How does one ensnare one fashioned of nails and sap?

By invisibility, mirrored shield, winged boots, curved sword?

The heart’s armor, thus arrayed, can easily entrap

This goddess, dreadlocked in her own umbilical cord.

But I do not stoop to conquer, but to please

This walking paradox, over-caffeinated, old soul

Intoxicated by words, music, auteurs (esp. Scorsese) ,

You’re my aurora, glowing green, in the north celestial pole.

Slacker, artist, writer, words have escaped you:

You lay breathless at the foot of your wandering Jew.

by Beryl Dov
HRTsOnFyR Mar 2017
Love a man whose strength of character precedes him on his journey in life.

Love a man who’s not afraid to stumble and fall, only to pick himself up and face the wind once more.

Love a man who’s made mistakes and whose heart is etched with scars of long lost loves, lingering embraces and kisses that tore at the soul.

Love a man who listens to his inner guides, and not knowing exactly where they lead, picks up his sword and leads his horse into the dark of a forest from where he may never return.

Because he has faith in his dreams, even those that leave him broken and in need of a fresh start.

Because he is the wizard of his own destiny, weaving the strands of the unknown into a tapestry that he can cover himself with when times are hard.

Because he is a warrior and he is hungry for a life that is lived without regrets.

Love a man whose smile is honest and whose eyes fell you to your knees.

Love a man who will turn away from safety, trusting that his passions are a danger he cannot live without.

Love a man whose hands know how to explore your secrets and his body awakens every sin you’ve ever craved—he won’t judge you, he’s a worshiper of the Feminine.

Love a man whose tears are hot, who bathes in the ashes of his mistakes. Love him when his eyes are shadowed, when he walks the beach in search of his muse, when he stands naked in a soul consuming fire; because he’ll come out stronger than before. He’s promised you that and he keeps his word.

A man who understands the journey, will not apologize for where his mind leads him. He will seek wisdom from any place that it hides. This man is a visionary, and he seeks a woman whose life is her own.

He will own you if you ask it, but only when you allow him into your darkest requests. He will advise you if you need it, but give you space to follow your own truth. He will understand that your journey is a battlefield only you can lay yourself down on.

But ask him for protection and you’ll hear his sword rasp out of its shield.

Love a man who dreams of the future but never wastes today.

Love a man whose intensity keeps the wolves at bay.

Leave your door wide open, he will come to you when you need him – stranger, seeker, sinner; thinker.

Men on their journey push past the mists of the unknown and bare themselves to loss or gain, whichever will find him first, and trusting in the process, awaken stronger, more alive, gifting the world with their insights and inventions.

Men on their journey will enjoy your mind, will yearn to learn from you—will find their pleasure in discovering your truth.

Men on their journey are wild and sensual. Because their soul knows no boundaries, their thoughts are limitless, their voices can either soothe or excite.

Love a man who shakes loose the questions of the ages, who throws himself in to the sea, seeking salty respite from the ravages of his quests, who listens to the call of mermaids, and believes that the spirit world holds more wisdom than all the books in the world.

Love a man who’ll be on his journey until his dying day.

You’ll know him by his integrity. He’ll never tell you that he’s finished being the adventurer.

You'll know him by his vulnerable heart.
Feb 2017 · 451
Body Songs
HRTsOnFyR Feb 2017
Birth of heart, lost in time
Like old light, soul of water
Firey sea , wave of mind
Cold white sky, hollow trees
Softened dreams fall and rise
Fear is lost, fallen power
Beneath bones hope lives wild
Quiet heat, sense of self
Gentle death, God, and night
Spirit lines, silent grasses
Spring of stars, moonlit smile
House of steel, looms of darkness
Angels dance, brightly veiled
Body song, world forgotten
Ancient feet, talking trails.
HRTsOnFyR Jan 2017
beckoning her

arriving at the cemetery gate
she follows the well forgotten path
that winds itself deep
into the inner core
finding herself surrounded
by old family crypts
and faceless angels
seemingly desperate for flight

all her senses arousing at once
HRTsOnFyR Dec 2016
I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.
I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred.
I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task
I am no longer waiting for the perfect children; my children have their own names that burn as brightly as any star.
I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; It already did, and I survived.
I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.
I am no longer waiting for the mate who will complete me; I am grateful to be so warmly, tenderly held.
I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.
I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and breathe peace in and out.
I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.
I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.
I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness. I believe, I Believe.

-Mary Anne Perrone

Photo: Ingmari Lamy
Via Sacred Dreams
Nov 2016 · 611
Call to Arms
HRTsOnFyR Nov 2016
Mother! Father!
Moon and Star!
How I wonder what you are....

By Fire's light and Earth's own pull,
You've stirred the waters of my soul.

I've felt you closer than my skin.
A dance with Death;
Life's one true kin.

But don't despair,
My Winged One;
I'd never ask you fly alone.
Nov 2016 · 1.7k
Be Lighthearted, Kinfolk
HRTsOnFyR Nov 2016
Light as a feather
We flow like the river,
Treading so softly
The grass never quivers,
Laughing and loving
And threading our fingers,
May friendship and beauty
Be all we let linger.
Oct 2016 · 952
Willamette River Blues
HRTsOnFyR Oct 2016
Seated on the edge of the riverbank
Watching raindrops fall across the city light's reflection;
A living Monet of color and fluidity and the sutble refractions of life.
The bridge above me is humming with traffic,
The railyard to my left fills the cold night with the timeless bellowing of midnight trains,
Used syringes lay amongst the driftwood here.
A crudely painted ******* adorns the trail head,
Overgrown with brambles bushes and blackberry vines.
A solitary ****** cruises the shallow dregs of shore
On an endless quest to find her mate,
Painfully unawares of his fate,
Fallen victim to a poacher,
Some careless fool with a greedy and discontented heart.
The tents and tarps of Portland's homeless, the lost and forgotten, line these hillsides;
Their many dreams and hopes lie broken amidst the rubble of this everyday existence.
I sit here often, smoking and thinking, and watching the ever changing lights.
Every now and again I take a picture, gather a stone, or fall asleep to the sound of rain
And the smell of earth and leaves and rushing water.
Aug 2016 · 1.3k
My Own Pair of Wings
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016
Walk a mile in this soul
And you'll see what I see
All that loves turns to gold
All that's lost sets you free

No matter the cost
I'ma keep being me
Ain't no price for what I've bought
Except my own pair of wings
Shout out to Harlon Rivers for the inspiration for this from the title of his collection, and to the old homeless man I met in Mobile Alabama who shared some of his poetry with me, for he is the subject of the matter.
Aug 2016 · 816
God, Indivisible
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016
It matters not what lies behind
Or what may lie ahead,
When waking dreams and evil things
Reside in each man's head.
They rattle chains and haunt our brains,
They feast upon our fears;
Consuming joy and hope and trust,
And all that we've held dear.
We hear their cries and stoke the fires,
Descend with them to Hell;
We share their shame, but not in blame,
Then fight amongst ourselves;
'Tis rare one sees
That which he flees
Is but a timeless mirror.
From brilliant men, to hapless hearts,
To wicked, wretched souls...
They are no more, nor less, than we;
But fractions of one whole.
Though he may lack in this or that
While others seem to reign;
With better looks, or smarts in books,
More power, wealth or fame;
We mustn't bend to arrogance,
Nor envy, just the same...
For he who dims his brothers light
Still hath no brighter a flame;
Instead he lessens all our sight
And squanders his own gains.
Have faith in ALL that's here below
Was ordered, first, above.
And suffers much, the eldest man,
Outliving all he's loved;
While rich men live, as paranoids,
And poor men toil in pain.
The simple man, a laughing stock,
And genius feels insane.
While beauty's forged the darkest hearts,
As shallow, they became.
And lives of ease have yielded sloth
And left good bodies lame.
So none can measure, nor divide,
The worth of Moon and Sun....
Like bird and beast,
As Earth to Sea,
Dependent on the One.
The seasons change,
As well they should,
And ne'er can we forget....
We're nigh but little cosmic spokes
Whom churn the Infinite.
And so these planets and their stars
Keep wheeling 'round the sky,
The watchmen keeping track of time,
Our souls all keeping ties.
Aug 2016 · 682
This Love Shall Remain
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016
She is a starry eyed, moonstruck wonder,
Heart full of hope, pocket full of thunder,
She bows her head, still blushing red,
Lies trembling upon his altar.
She's a faery sparkled, sunshine lover,
Who sought these dragon's wings for cover,
A barefoot lass, hair all a mess,
Though halo bent, still shines above her.
Her body sings like ancient winds,
Thus when she dreams, sees unseen things,
Goes surfing waves of earthly pains,
Her soul, an open harbour.
Though scarred and stained, her strength she's gained,
So takes the vow: Love shall remain;
'Tis why her Angels guard her.
Aug 2016 · 664
Courage comes in Waves
HRTsOnFyR Aug 2016
So many creation stories,
Myths, tales and legends...
Too many answers,
Yet so many questions.
An excess of words,
With an absence of feelings.
Time to make my own song,
My own verse on these sheets,
One God means One love,
Just One heart,
Just One beat....
The truth is as infinite as our explanations of it.
Tired of mourning.
Tired of crying out in the darkness.
Tired of vibrating from the mouth and not the spirit.
Fear has no place here.
I'll embrace the unknowing,
I shall cast down my sorrows,
And get my lamp glowing.
Jul 2016 · 369
Traveler (10 W)
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2016
Mind is where my spirit lives while in between dreaming
Jul 2016 · 647
Rounding the Square
HRTsOnFyR Jul 2016
She was like a ray of light
dancing among the shadows:
Elusive, bright, and hot to the touch;
Intangible, fluid, and uncapturable.
Meant to be a source of hope,
A flickering of inspiration;
A contrast to the darkness and
A shock to the system;
A beam of truth,
Sent to penetrate the leaded glass
Of the Windows,
Those heavy, distorted pains of life;
She gives light to the house,
Yet reveals those layers of dirt
Which Time and Space and Earth
Saw fit to meter out,
Here, upon the sill.
Love her still.
May 2016 · 621
The Crossing
HRTsOnFyR May 2016
The boatman glides over dark waters,
Calloused hands hold heavy oars.
City lights twinkle like fire flies,
On murky currents forged by undertows.
His face well carved by years of hardship,
A backbone bent by deep regret,
He's marking tickets off for the passengers,
Most still unawares
His name be Death.
May 2016 · 437
Sanctuary of the Heart
HRTsOnFyR May 2016
If I let you into the secret garden of my heart,
I only ask that you tread lightly;
Be gentle and be respectful of what you find there.
Please don't leave behind any of your garbage....
Perhaps you could even try and pull out a few of those weeds of sorrow?
Whatever may happen,
Please leave things just a bit more beautiful
Than they were when you first arrived.
May 2016 · 396
House of Cards
HRTsOnFyR May 2016
Life is a jest
As time will show it,
I thought so once
But now I know it.
Apr 2016 · 426
Down by the River
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2016
The river's cool reflective gaze
Reveals a soft and sorrowed face,
A wide eyed girl with rosied cheeks
From 'neath the reeds doth dare to peek,
A trembling bag of nerves and skin
With aching heart and quivered chin,
She stares into her darkest parts
As terror grips her fragile heart...
The demons dance within her thoughts,
Some lies they sold, some lies she bought.
Her features morph and twist and curl,
Both cruel and kind, from beast to girl.
She knows not what the visions mean,
If this be life, or just a dream,
She only seeks to understand
Just whom are the ghosts, the gods, the men.
HRTsOnFyR Apr 2016
Some day, if you are lucky,
you’ll return from a thunderous journey
trailing snake scales, wing fragments
and the musk of Earth and moon.

Eyes will examine you for signs
of damage, or change
and you, too, will wonder
if your skin shows traces

of fur, or leaves,
if thrushes have built a nest
of your hair, if Andromeda
burns from your eyes.

Do not be surprised by prickly questions
from those who barely inhabit
their own fleeting lives, who barely taste
their own possibility, who barely dream.

If your hands are empty, treasureless,
if your toes have not grown claws,
if your obedient voice has not
become a wild cry, a howl,

you will reassure them. We warned you,
they might declare, there is nothing else,
no point, no meaning, no mystery at all,
just this frantic waiting to die.

And yet, they tremble, mute,
afraid you’ve returned without sweet
elixir for unspeakable thirst, without
a fluent dance or holy language

to teach them, without a compass
bearing to a forgotten border where
no one crosses without weeping
for the terrible beauty of galaxies

and granite and bone. They tremble,
hoping your lips hold a secret,
that the song your body now sings
will redeem them, yet they fear

your secret is dangerous, shattering,
and once it flies from your astonished
mouth, they-like you-must disintegrate
before unfolding tremulous wings.
Mar 2016 · 874
Max Ehrmann, Desiderata
HRTsOnFyR Mar 2016
Go placidly amid the noise and haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence.
As far as possible without surrender
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.
Avoid loud and aggressive persons,
they are vexations to the spirit.
If you compare yourself with others,
you may become vain and bitter;
for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.
Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans.
Keep interested in your own career, however humble;
it is a real possession in the changing fortunes of time.
Exercise caution in your business affairs;
for the world is full of trickery.
But let this not blind you to what virtue there is;
many persons strive for high ideals;
and everywhere life is full of heroism.
Be yourself.
Especially, do not feign affection.
Neither be cynical about love;
for in the face of all aridity and disenchantment
it is as perennial as the grass.
Take kindly the counsel of the years,
gracefully surrendering the things of youth.
Nurture strength of spirit to shield you in sudden misfortune.
But do not distress yourself with dark imaginings.
Many fears are born of fatigue and loneliness.
Beyond a wholesome discipline,
be gentle with yourself.
You are a child of the universe,
no less than the trees and the stars;
you have a right to be here.
And whether or not it is clear to you,
no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should.
Therefore be at peace with God,
whatever you conceive Him to be,
and whatever your labors and aspirations,
in the noisy confusion of life keep peace with your soul.
With all its sham, drudgery, and broken dreams,
it is still a beautiful world.
Be cheerful.
Strive to be happy.
HRTsOnFyR Feb 2016
I step out into the pale February air
Of mid afternoon,
Beneath this dull and weeping sky.
The first thing I notice
In the courtyard
Is the concrete slab
Networked by rainwater stains,
Dark and arterial;
Like a web of veins
Searching for their way back home
Toward a warm and caring heart.

I tiptoe through a spattering of puddles
Watching my grey reflection,
Like a well defined shadow,
Peering up at me
So lost and alone.
The glittering steel backdrop
Of the cage above
Flickers with surreality
Across the surface of the water
As it is breaking beneath my feet.

Running my hand along the stone wall
Sounds a bit like wind
Rushing off the back of a jet plane,
Hollow and whistling from my palm
Across the smooth terrain;
My fingertips pausing
Only to linger on the pocked and marred and patched-up parts,
As if only to admire their stoic imperfections
And to kiss their milultitude of wounds and scars.

The walls here reach higher than any  of us could ever hope to climb alone.
The architecture is cold and sterile
And unforgiving in it's practicality.
Large beads of water gather in the corners of the fixtures
From sixty feet above
Only to come crashing down upon my cheekbones
With the heaviest and mist sickening of "splats".

I shake them off like an iris shedding the first round of morning dew,
Then I plant myself under the eaves
In the only square foot of dry ground in view.
Sitting quietly, with closed eyes,
I listen to the variable thicknesses of each falling raindrop,
Contemplating the many different tones
As some collide with the puddles
And others burst among the bricks.

Through the thin, spidery membrane of my eyelids
I sense a shift in the overhead lighting,
Just in time to spot a silver lining
As a rogue beam of light
Pushes through a soft spot in the clouds.
I inhale the earthy scent
Of dirt and freshly mopped sidewalks
While I marvel at just how precisely
His eyes, at times,
Can match the exact shade of this mid winter sky.

With a sigh and and an undetectable shudder,
A little smile crosses my lips,
And I long for nothing more than to be embraced by his arms of steel.
The love I feel with him seems much mightier than any prison fortress...
And I,
Held captive by it's institution,
Gracefully accept my position,
And find that it is one
I am all too willing too endure.
Feb 2016 · 1.0k
Beyond the Pearly Gates
HRTsOnFyR Feb 2016
She enters into the space where
Everything becomes everything...
Race, religion, science, astrology, God,
Angels and Demons;
The story of time continues,
An unbroken circle.
The passionate dancing of spirits,
Histories faint whisperings.
The space between the lines,
Intermittent radar blips.
Laughter and bloodshed and tears
Softly spoken prayers;
A wide eyed little girl
Witnessing her rebirth,
Awakening from an unconscious slumber,
Burdened by the weight of fear.
One eye open;
The body bracing for impact
Afraid to land,
Afraid to crash and burn,
From sheer speed,
From this flight of mind;
Disorientating and intoxicating,
Latitude and longitude become obscure.
Interference and interception
Can be detected on the air waves,
Nothing feels tangible,
Everything tastes like abstract breath.
The only compass she trusts
Is her heart,
And nothing can detour her
From her course.
She waits in the wings,
Watching the horizon...
The morning sun rises,
Bearer of heat and light;
Standing tall in the afterglow,
With golden halo,
Knowing she truly has been
Blessed and loved.
Jan 2016 · 749
The meadowlark
HRTsOnFyR Jan 2016
The sleepy, starry eyed sky of night
Retires in an odd violet surrender,
Making way for a swiftly emerging dawn
As the viscous black blues of Midnight's celestial shore is waning,
They ebb into waves of apricot, magenta and tangerine hues
A solitary meadowlark perched about the ash grove sits quietly
Watching the remaining vestibules of fog drifting upwards, only to burn away in the heat of the sun
A cool wind blows in from the mountainside, whistling through leaves and rustling tail feathers
The scent of the far off sea tickles the old birds nostrils, holding the promise of silver backed sardine and beach scattered ***** legs
He feels the call of the spirit beneath him, arching his wings he leans into the breeze
A cerulean blue, cloudless skyline illuminates the eyes as he soars amongst evergreen hilltops and pine ladened mountains
His flight pattern as seamless as the air on which he moves,
His mind and body becoming one with the soundless synergy of the skies and the senses,
Bones among feathers,
First was winds, now is breathing.
He is the eternal
Infinite bliss indefinable
Ancient and etheric, a consciousness made complete
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