arching my back
the sparks fly
like shaved metal
off of my sternum
as something
like happiness
flecks through
in metal firebuds
that screech coming
over me as a
wave washes
through my
molecular structure,
inside the libations
held up to the
small goddesses
running through
the rush of
the chainsaw shrieks
of bloodstream
now a fomenting river
of tiny waves
cresting made up
of my tears
shed all through
the mineral-encrusted
night
Now those tiny deities
with singing plumpness
of breast and thigh
indigo radiating
from their third eye
are dancing
inside my being
as I strive to catch
the shadows that
only just surrounded
me in that last hour
of plague
of chasm-patched torment
tears insulating me
until I could not see
for the steam
just on the edge
of inability to
contain my
filtered out
pre-injected rage
Here I now sit
a few inches above
the grasslands
lotus in each palm
pumped
with manifestation
in my very fingers
                       of life

CHARITY

ISN'T

AN

ACT

OF

KINDNESS,

IT'S

A

RETURN

GIFT !!

There are fears
I can't stand for
when there are reasons
to get out from under them

We cast stones
and hide the hand
for there are chances
To find we're doing too well

Lying to ourselves
wanting it all here and now
complaining about frustration
but so afraid of existencially change

Scared of the truth
we don't want to know,
carrying our heavy brains along
that feel so full and despoiled the same

So high and dry
once roots pull us deeper
we're too fooled and stuck
But eyes start whining shouting out loud

We pretend to care
of our mistreated spirit
but it's left alone fixing us
spilling visions of good things

bigger and closer than they really were
somehow kept in mind by heart
because being made of love
we're meant to see and feel
and be who we really are.

A fold here,
another there.
I straighten it's wings
to make sure they fly as far as they can.

I swing my arm back,
and let go.

I watch as the wind carries my feelings away.

I hope that the wind carries my heart to you.