I heard that if you gaze into a fire
That it will begin to gaze back into you

So locked inside a cell
I picked up a book
& proved that theory to be true.

///

I also heard that where you die
Depends on the floor
in which you crawled

However this I’ve proved is false
My first steps were in a home
With roaches on the walls

I live by daily participating
and not by distant gesticulating.

I live by putting love into action,
not by singing for holy intervention.

I live by getting both hands soiled,
not sanitised and kept unspoiled.

If you want to follow the Nazarene
you can't keep your hands wet wipe clean.

This is life as he envisaged -
living like we're one big village.

Roll up your sleeves to each elbow,
let's serve together and not alone.

This is life as Jesus did it -
all hands-on, with dirt and spit!

it's blue where the robins lay their eggs
so the eggs themselves are blue; the nest,
not being blue, can only long to become
a comrade of the grass again. the grass is
something only wishing to be cut,
the lawnmower only wishes to be fueled
(by what?) and worms find themselves
through the pores of the skin of the flaky
earth below. rigidity is a form of division
that splits apart no self but others only.

Ever so gently approaching
swinging wing by wing,
ready to feast black bird,
humming herself by a glide.

Suddenly caught in high winds,
unable to land by far,
swoop away from grazing
poor black bird sent away.

Food lays curdled sinking beneath,
Fast coming in dives blackbird,
looking for a feast which has gone away,
left hungry sad and frozen.

Barely able to stand,
feet sinking down down down
fly away black bird fly away,
on the ground she lies poor soul.

i could be
incorporating zillion words to reel
at the combustion of my percevearance
of my contagious belief and clearance
but i wont
i am higher than imperfect ego
than the dirt iwas born to live inside
equal to the monument of thoughts of teachers
build inside this crumbling mind

discovering the glue to fix
discovering some time to make it beat
at least
a little bit

The leaves tell stories in the form of footprints
Some separated from themselves
The wind comes at breakneck speed and takes you even farther from what you once were
The wheels of cars don’t break you, they just make you smaller
And when the humans get fed up the large metal hand comes and snatches you away
You were once a playground for the adventurous
The most important things can still be temporary
You forget that this tree’s memory was dead before you even met
Society makes sure dead things aren’t looked at for too long

Well, then why are you looking at me?
Your crunches are haunting my memory
I walked inside my house with your stems in my shirt and shoes covered in dirt
To find another thing I knew as dead
Too many chemicals to the head
But that lady wasn’t stepped on
She wasn’t driven over or thrown
She was lifted up by the girl covered in leaves
Because she had just spent time with the dead
She said it's not bad company but it leaves a bad memory
She didn’t want another one of those

Oh ms believer told its story in the hospital waiting room
The leaves told their stories from inside of my shoes
The  doctor didn’t say **** to the 9 year old looking as innocent as she ever will in her blue puffer coat and no-lace converse, she's thinking about the dead leaves
This 9 year old knew what death was
But only looked at it with peripheral vision behind interlocked fingers
Or looked with a smile as she jumped right inside of it
Its been 8 years,
She now looks death in the mirror

Today morning
As I was taking a bath
I rubbed my
Elbow
And removed the dirt
Accumulated over so many days
You know that!
If you can rub the
Walls of time
You can remove
The silt
Deposited throughout
A sad past!