the purpose
of a home
is to give
shelter

please help
us fragile
human creatures
to remember
our dreams

I couldn't know you'd need me then!
Just a human with all frailty and much fault....
  
Do you think the wind blows differently
When  it passes over leaves and trees?
That it says: "Wait, lemme stop here a bit
And blow on this one leaf  in a special way"
  
Hardly! Time to get with the manure beneath
And see that sunrays shine on everything
And indiscriminate clouds shimmer on all,
How haphazard, the way the wind blows.
  
So, don't hang your head and moan so much
Time dawns for you to get over yourself
Don't you see that I'm still here?
Now quit getting your knickers in a knot!
  
You rant and rave while I pant and slave
Dissect my every move, make me aloof
How can you possibly go counting
And re-arranging all the marbles in my head?
  
You're so insecure, you make me mad
So exhaustive are your constant jibes
So tiring to soothe your unfounded fears
I'm having to placate you so often of late.
  
Before it all gets blown out of size
Sit a while in  (h)arboured thought
Confront the dreads which cause disquiet
A trove may wash up....but broken, on your shore.
  
The wind comes not with tardy tidings
For it isn't the what you say or do
But forsooth, the how which carries weight
Let's not over-whip each other so.
  
My thoughts may be wanton, wild or reckless
Telling tigs bend on a riotous grind
Yet feckless deeds don't follow suit
Pardon my slightly-misbehaving mind.
  
Patient and respectful, I remain to be
Just guard against esurient whims
Paucity of faith and clockwork trivial'ties
Will lead us down a road of trials.
  
Fallen martyrs should not feign, see
The wind makes no pretense. It just blows....
Now, I really couldn't know you'd need me then
'Cause, baby, that's the way the wind blows!
  

S T, 5 April 13

Reverse the flight of Lucifer,
Hurl back to heaven the fallen star;
Recall Eve's fate, establish her
Again where the first glories are:
Again where Eden's rivers are.

****** back contention, merge in one
Warring dualities, make free
Night of the moon, day of the sun;
End of the old war of land and sea,
Saying, There shall be no more sea.

With love of love now make an end;
Let male and female strive no more;
Let good and bad their quarrel mend
And with an equal voice adore.

Bow lofty saint, rise humble sin,
Fall from your throne, creep from your den:
The king, the kingdom is within,
That is for evermore, amen:
Was dead and is alive. Amen

*Ruth Pitter

I asked God if it was okay to be melodramatic
and she said yes
I asked her if she said it was okay to be short.
and she said sure it is

I asked her if I could wear nail polish
or not wear nail polish
and she said honey
she calls me that sometimes
you can do just exactly what you want to do
Thanks God I said
And is it even okay if I don't paragraph my letters
Sweetcakes God said,
who knows where she picked that up
what I'm telling you is
Yes Yes Yes

Kaylin ''ought to know

Madness is addictive.

Spinning in unfinished circles and
cleverly hidden tea pots and
bright green hats and
leaves and things.
Having a vague and uninteresting effect and influence
on the people and
the pope and
the people of the pope.
Spinning
faster, faster, faster.
The lives around become a blur.
A memory of a
memory of a
memory of an
imaginary being.
Fast, fast, fast.
Crying.
Madness is good to slip into, they say.
Writing notes and
grocery lists with
your own blood and brains
and tears.
Repeating the lines of a memory
of a poem about a Spanish prison.
Crying on Death Row.
Walking down the street with hidden wings.
Cutting and trimming the
clouds and dreams.
Behaving well on Wednesdays
and teaching the dog theater etiquette.
Throwing bricks at the ******* next door screaming,
"Kerosene burns slower than gasoline!"
Signing the edge of a razor.

Life is bitter sweet for the mad.