In the afternoon
Below a grey blue sky
I hear the chatter
Of the magpies.
And they talk in bird talk
In words unknown to me
As they bob their little heads
By the amaltas tree.
Glad I am to hear them
I listen carefully
Happy to be in their -
wondrous company

I’m feeling quite elated
My spirits have been lifted
I’m On a natural high
The sun is out and smiling
it’s going to be a lovely day
Every thing seems rosey
But you know what they say
With a rose comes thorns
But they won’t burst my bubble
Today I will be happy
No matter what they say
No thorns will get in my way,
I will have a very happy day!

Burn me, drown me, take me down
A Flaming Phoenix, I’ve been around
Uproot, transplant, a new me is found
Cut me, crush me, I rise from the ground

Mistake not this fire for a coal black soul
These colorful flames are brilliant & whole
My talons and wings don’t think to control
If passion is sin, I go to Sheol

Shackle me back with those chains I wore?
I won’t scream, bite or claw, but spread wings & soar
I tried to love his cold ash before
That grit in my mouth I’ll suffer no more

Moved twenty times by sweet 16
Learned young to breathe through the in-between
Grey ashes taught how to blaze & gleam
From that dungeon I ascend as Queen

Established landmarks removed test the fates—
Burning wind in a vacant sky.
Rearranged cosmic hemispheres of mind—
Oracle of day not seen with naked eye.

The need for warmth a thing of the past—
Frigid waters the basis of new-fangled cell.
Tortured derelicts kept from spiritual vision—
Oracle of night hangs in day’s empty shell.

Dubious means to generate a sun of artificial light—
But a fling cannot replace a love that is shunned.
Yet warm rays of sunlight still flow above the temporal—
Still hanging in defiance of the 60 cycle hum.

Regain your bearings oh heart of true light—
Everything in its place: oracle of day and oracle of night.

I will sit here beneath
the warmth of the sun
I will listen to the slow
movement of clouds
I am comfortable in the
way that time always
leaves me behind
and when I grow old
I hope I grow into
some kind of stranger
in a sleepy village at the
foot of a white mountain
where I’ll write poetry
about wild birds and the way
love never promised to stay ...
Clay.M

The nature of hierarchy
It's there for a reason
Just take it with a pinch of salt
Or out your brains you'll be sneezing.
Ah ****! That's pepper isn't it?

When you look into
The oft talked about
Black mirror
Depending on the light
Your face seems thinner

Your features sharpen
Your eyes fill in dark
Like a cute super villain
Not one of them that
Lurks in the park.