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Lotus Feb 2021
The thumb and ******* of my left hand pinched the neck of a sandglass. The sand leaving the top bulb was almost translucent, and although the glass of the miniature instrument was thick for its size, I could almost feel the friction of each grain as they slide down. As the sand formed a growing pile at the base of the bottom bulb, my ears became numb, and began to ache. My ears felt like the inside of a cathedral, the walls of which were collapsing. I look down to my right hand and see I am holding a shovel. Why do I need a shovel? I thought to myself. Then I felt my knees give way to the heaviness that surrounded them. I was sinking in sand, a giant ocean of sand. This game I had never played before now, but I somehow knew the rules. Drop the sandglass in my left hand and whatever force held this ocean around me in place would fall and shatter. Drop the shovel and I’d have no way to dig myself out.  
How does this dream end?
I've been having some very intense dreams of late, this poem describes one that  had this last Saturday night.
Lotus Jan 2019
You're like a boy shy of the sun,
Yet so desperately wanting to
Fall on your knees in the dirt and
Acquaint your hands with succulents and
Beautiful flowers.

You're like a boy that blames his skin,
Your perfect porcelain skin,
For the hiss and scorch the
Rays from up above execute on your body.

Your eyes spoke the truth at times
When your lips wouldn't budge.
I hoped I read those glistening
Windows of your soul correctly.
I was a flower you beheld on one
Of your dangerous walks in the sun.
I wonder are you happy we were acquainted?

The way you handled me most times
Was evident proof you cared for me.
You cleaned my leafy limbs of sitting dust,
You kept away the bugs that would nibble at me,
You watered me when I was parched.

Then came time to transplant.
The muscles of your hands grew tense,
You squeezed my slender stem almost to
A point of snapping.
Your rough and tough handle of my roots
Left them broken and weak.

You're like a boy that in a panic to run
Away from the burning sun,
Lost sight of his flower and the garden they said they'd grow together,
You're skin is burning I know,
But dont keep pushing me in the ground.
I wont always come back.
My leafy limbs wont regain their color.
My stem will sag and not regain strength.
My thirst will leave me speechless.

Maybe that garden we said we'd try to grow,
Isn't meant to be.
Maybe you aren't meant to be a gardener out in the harsh sun.
Maybe I am not meant to be acquainted with your hands.

All the same,
Don't continue to shut me out
In your frenzied panics.
Don't push me away so aggressively.
One day my roots will not revive
And I will not come back.
Lotus Aug 2018
She sat at a table
And across from her was a
Cluster of stardust.
Its beaming fingers
Perform a coin roll dance
That seems to last a lifetime.
In a sudden motion the coin
Is tossed into the air
And with a graceful echo
Lands on the tables surface.

We all are coins.
We all are symbols of
Beautiful wealth, intelligence,
And abundance.
We all perform our coin dance.
We all have our final
Toss of time.
And we all leave behind
A unique and special echo.
Written in loving memory of a beautiful and amazing friend of mine. Her cluster is dancing between the stars.
Lotus Jan 2017
I love it when I see them.
Those two lady beauties, those twin faces.
Their skin is like the snowy Sierra mountains in winter,
A Bianca so pale and that catches all the light shining around them.
Those twin smiles radiate two mysteries of the same coin.
One a mystery so solemn and careful, you could never sneak up on it.
The other a playful mystery, that with a rascal excitement
Is ready to drag you with it to find the answer.
They are beautiful!
The most unique beauty I have yet beheld.
Their presence is like a storm in the far distant sky,
The air is warm prior the approach of something powerful.
Their singing voices echo through the air and like a siren’s song  
Brings you in so you will listen closer.
Don’t stop singing. Don’t stop.
I am like a smiling child when I see them,
Those two twin beauties.
Lotus Dec 2016
Where did you go?
The rim of the glass has my lipstick on it,
Still warm.
My patience couldn't hold.
I had to sip my excitement at bay.

Where did you go?
Come back please!
Finish this bottle with me and
Offer me the apology you promised to give
But couldn't muster the strength to give.

Talk to me!
Not the pasty lifeless wall with no name.
I am not the girl you met back then.
I am a woman ready for life's horror and beauty.

Where did you go?
Come back!!!


The red velvet stain on the wine glass
Is cold.
Now I guess I will finish this bottle by myself.
Cheers lonely heart.
Lotus Nov 2016
Three hours I’ve got
Till I need to place three more quarters in the slot,
Preventing a ticket from making a print on my windshield.
Walk fast, speedy gal.
The rain is making a damp home of your hair.
Pit pat pit pat pit pit patter.
The flats that hug my feet make tiny foot prints of sound on the city side walk.
The invisible prints, with the splash and swoosh of water waves from passing cars
Makes all other sound miniscule to my ears.
I push the swinging door open
And step from chill winter air into warm chit chat filled space.
The smell of damp clothes and freshly ground espresso fills my nostrils.
My eyes welcome the sight of relaxed people and the rustic interior of the bakery, brewery, and restaurant.
Time to get cozy on my favorite bench, with a cappuccino in my hands, a book in front of me on the table, and my bubble of comfort around me.
Lotus Aug 2016
Often these days, I am convinced that I’m crazy. As crazy as my mother, whose fear of loneliness caused her to transform from her fiery, beautiful self into a demon.  As crazy as a storm that in its chaos rips the roots of trees from the ground and destroys the home of families and sometimes families themselves.
I have the dark and light on both shoulders, my inner devil and inner angel. The devil me, with her knotted hair and ***** snarl, whispers words of suspicion and anger, constantly aiming to manipulate and self-destruct. Then there is the angel me, with bright green-blue eyes and perfect white teeth, whispering soothing reminders of beautiful memories and quiet thanks.
We all, every one of us, have our own devil and angel. Why is it that we allow this devil to exist within us, and allow our angel to be thrown to the side? Sometimes our angel wins yes, but still… until one side or the other wins, we Allow a part of us to Want to self-destruct and cause continual suffering. Why is this?
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