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Bows N' Arrows Feb 2017
The wave that crashed
my soul
The seashells bedecked in gold
The mess I couldn't erase
with every trace of constellations
pulsated a face
And the day gone black
under a bedsheet
Wine spilled on a cuffling
The longing for drizzle
and rain
The levitation from the
Earth like tripping windowpane
A watchtower showing you home
You are the well I'm crawling
down
( To float in the clearlight )
The alchemy and sigils in stone
A voice that mumbles
in my sound ears when I'm alone.
I blame Lord Byron for my romanticism, he often wrote on laudanum.
surrender hind-legs
targets yellow spines
yellow stems
flowers blend into frogs
tree frogs tree apples
tree fruit heart numinous
nervousness next level
levitation into vibration
watermelon seeds
stars, steam, sand and shadows
i allow
keep talking spinning
weaving the stars
love is a happy motorcycle
bathtubs zoological
sisters straight eyed sailors
cumber-buns saviors
yawning in the wind
at the hint of a spark
gravity embarks on sacred journeys
desert walks soul visions
quest into westerly winds
pools of tough romance tough love
chances are that now and then
we will pretend
that we are more compassionate
then we are
Butch Decatoria Dec 2018
a light that beams…

This must be a dream. I assume I’m fast asleep elsewhere, but can’t bother to care to find out exactly where that may be, since all my focus and curious thought are centered here, in this moment I am minding. I feel that this is most definitely a dream, yet as vivid this lucid sleep may be, I have a wakeful awareness, conscious of what this all may mean—although unreal.
Verdant greens, rapacious reds, metallic cobalt blues and sharp cold whites, eggshell and city winter skies. Each color I knew in my existence, reintroduced with a new sense of discovering their more flamboyant shades, their other worldly patina, some explosive or fluorescent. I’ve never seen such colors and with more emotions to witness them, and I know full well that in our dreams, it seems that feelings speak—the only language our minds translate, lacking logic and reason, and still understood. Mind-speaking with heart...

I awe at the surroundings of astral nebulae and cosmic bodies spacial walls that wave and wink with stars and eyes or both or all.
I’m being lead in warp speed worm holes and tunnels of levitation and light, pulled by a hand I’m holding, aware now that I’m not alone here, in this dream I accept it to be, but who is dreaming with me?
I turn my attention to that hand, the connecting arm, and the rest of whom I look down to see, if only with the blind eyes that my human limitation allows. I smile with my whole face discovering a young child cherub beaming back at me, with eyes reflecting the stars and twilight shades of space… there is such depth in those large windows of the soul, knowledge and wisdom and enlightenment, beyond my mortal coil. My unevolved homunculi of spirit, full of conditioned fears and judgmental faults, a prehistoric presence in the light years of our civilization. I feel a yearning to ask “where are…?”
Shhhzzzz…lightning then thunder…. Pull back awake…
(Life is but a dream)
Just embrace it all with wonder. A light that beams.
In the morning I will wake. Breathe anew, ethereally, the lovely other space, where I feel at home, in place. Swimming in god’s Other face, a bright ocean of perfection’s grace. And peace...
Ryan O'Leary Mar 26
If fish could fly
question marks
with helium floats
rather than lead,
would make the
best hooks using
a bait that didn't
attract the birds.

Somebody just to
me suggested that
little bits of Brexit
are easy to swallow
providing the cast
was not exaggerated
by the hot air being
used for levitation.

— The End —