Getting started can be the hardest part.  
How hard is it to accept-
That the craft you so need can feel at times, so harsh?
Sitting down to an instrument
Piano or paper.

The Musicians tones are angered,
Though the notes sweet.
Hear the aggravation of fumbling fingers,
Witness the strength of the mountain.

Consuming light, burning heavy
And white; What will you write today?
See the light to to your eyes,
Witness the heat of the sun.

words in a blender
too slushy
pain behind the eyes
frozen thoughts
lime green
exorcised projectiles
turning heads
with demon smiles
and whispered snarls
in a dead language.

r ~ 8/1/14

Home is where the souls reside
Heart’s mantra is only bliss
Happiness spilling beyond four walls
The roof above shelters the love
Strong foundation of only truth
Ecstatic moments of fun and frolic
Home which shelters lovely souls
It’s just not a structure anymore
Housing the home in your heart

When I am younger
the doors will open on garden plants
high above my head
and the world, a misty jungle
once again

When I am younger
I will hold the crystal ball
of some fallen marble
stretched out on the living room floor
and make fortunes
for the cat

When I am younger
I will build my castles
of leaves and wooden slats
and every songbird, ant, raccoon
and all their uncles
will be at my banquets
on the low pine tree branch

When I am younger
I will catch the sunlight
in my open hand like falling gold
and release it when the night falls
in the green glow of a firefly
with some television name

When I am younger
I will learn to dry my tears
in the arms of the world
as it sits on the edge of the bed
all-knowing and chestnut-haired

When I am younger
I will knock on the door of your old house
and you will still be there
waiting in the blush
of a late August morning