The morning was blue
And the world was endless,
The moon and skies watched from their fiery oblivion
And I sat on a porch drinking lemonade in the sun

The walls were blue
Claustrophobia and comfort
Tumbling into each other
Blurred and slurred
Forced serenity, forced to reminisce the sky
And fairy lights for stars in the dark


His eyes were blue
Filled with wonderlust and the heart beat of a hummingbirds wing
Ethereal sunlight hiding the smirk
Deception and beauty
Satisfied, spoiled and bored

The song was blue
A hopeful sadness too obscure for me to know
Marking the moment
Gathering the seconds among the staves

Those bluest of halcyon moments
Made up the darkest day
Whist the unsuspected turbulence
Lay offshore
As a storm at sea

“Up above my head
I hear music in the air
I really do believe
I really do believe
there's a Heaven somewhere”
--Rhiannon Giddens

“Is that all there is?”
--Peggy Lee*

An old philosopher told me this:

“About heaven.
Let’s say there’s more than one.
There’s the one where souls
are lurid with perfection,
piled into bliss,
dreaming of change.

“There’s the one people search for
to fit the story they tell themselves.
I looked for it.  I watched the sky.
I found only words.  Blue sky is
a blank page.  Clouds are garish metaphors.

“Then there’s one that follows you.
Don’t look for it. You can’t find it.
It’s not a place or a path.
It dances at the edge of things
like old photos or a young face
that lives remembered in its older one,
an eternal moment always at hand
trailing like a thought balloon,
a shadow cast by nothing,
forever unfolding, never now.”

Isn't it lovely
When pervy men
Pop up in your DM box
And try to make you feel
That you are a failure

Hmm
Someone's pen
Is thicker than his ****