Nature made convenient sluice,
when pool water did wend
     down the gentle slope
     describing gargantuan wetsuit vend

er steadily chugging, chiseling,
     and channeling straight away
     blindly coursing upend
ding (mankind imposed)

property boundaries demarcations tend
with futile diligence,
     asper the whimsical barenaked lady's
     propensities, viz mother nature

     made short shrift send
ding hours of surveyor labor down
into the behavioral sink also rend

ding inhabitants within the flood plain
     to vacate premises and return,
     when storm didst abate
comically shaking angry fist
     at darkening non sheltering sky -

     faux imitating to berate
meteorological processes
     many complex systems create
the downpour seemingly
     appearing (to me) rainier date

then years gone by scattershot memories,
     (which figurative, somewhat unreliable
     yardstick of boyhood) did equate
climate affecting
     Southeastern Montgomery, Pennsylvania,

     registering homo sapiens ultimate fate
burgeoning population, which impact great enough
     for this lix spittle country bumpkin to ejaculate
(not prematurely) Hawaii hate
to reckon my environmental impact doth irritate

fragile ecosystems, and  
     holistic lifestyle aye would trade
     (hint...mebbe ya know
     of eco-centric intentional communities)
     even (yes absolutely)
     necessitating sweat of brow spade

work agreeable to this sometime joker    
renting from management Grosse and Quade,
who primarily bolster increasing monies to get paid, 
perhaps partnership incorporates hiring maid 
service for their own households,
     no doubt beds get properly made
     yet, this regular John Doe (dependent on
     social security disability because
     debilitating panic attacks undermined

     ability to function found (yours truly) laid
up (prior to acquiescing strong suggestions
to accept prescription medication), where grade
to cope much less steep, plus un huff frayed,

now rowing tha old skiff to destination
     for to long not fostered and delayed
(christened matthew scott harris) to feign charade
nod duh so merrily lee down the time stream.
An enigmatic world that spins;
Setting hands around the clock,
Wearing down the wrinkled grins,
An ark set sail to never dock.
Wandering the tameless dark,
Sifting facts from all delusion,
Passing by without remark,
The woeful tale of our seclusion.
Until a streak of light from Heavens staff
Tears dark asunder in the night,
And thunder bellows a boisterous laugh,
To startle calm who runs in fright.
Until Cosmic fields of desolation
Stand by in full reproach,
Of long awaited consolation,
To seed the change upon approach.
For when moisture in the air hangs heavy
From eastern winds of natures plow,
And besieging waters breach the levee
As day comes forth by times avow,
Burdens will lift with morning's rise,
Presenting with a mustered grace,
After fallen tears dried the eyes,
To wash out fears without a trace.
The blue above, the bird that flies,
Warmth from the sun in full embrace,
The barrage of green as flora thrives,
Leaves me proud to be of this Earthly place.
sara 22h
The light breaks in past a bamboo vine
and refracts into marvellous blue.
The air stands as still as the sun shines,
while the birds chirp their favourite tune.

I float to the top of the path and I sit,
carried by freshwater currents.
With air in my veins, I breathe in
and forget each, every one of my troubles.

My eyelids close like petals
moved on by the breeze.
I feel the light warm on my face;
although, I cannot see it.
have you ever been?
Allyvia 2d
What a selfish child, she thought
Leeching the poor tree dry
Less than what she had been before.

She herself stripped of her jewels
Made into extreme miniatures for her children’s fingers and ears
The mossy fur ripped from her flesh
Her screams the crunch and creak as they felled her trees.

They give her no pause between the spasms of pain
An endless labor with no birth to show
No relief and her sweat has filled oceans.

The fires licking over her parched skin are a joyous pain
She writhes, reveling in the heat.
And now it is her children who scream and sob
Begging the man who cradles them in his palm to restrain her.

But he won’t
For they are hers while mortal
And he will not touch them
Until their ghosts have shrugged from their shells.

Once the sight of their broken bodies
would have caused her tears to pour forth
Drowning their tiny lungs and swelling the number held by him.
But now she is a mother who turns her face from her squalling infants
Cries falling onto calloused ears.

She learned from the many named man
How to be at peace with their deaths
And found from him comfort
With his mouth sewn shut, his eyes only for those he holds
His ears filled with the empty silence of their space.
And even though this last sanctuary has become contaminated
Still she stirs the soup of air rocketing her little ones around her.

Her ignorant children cause her agony
But what young do not?

Some even pray to her
Working to feed off her in other ways
And though they are only a drop in the bucket of her pain
She cannot deny she loves them.

So long has she watched them live and die
Broke down their empty  bodies and
seen them rejoin their creator to weep
when faced with what they have done to her their mother.

A pity the dead cannot speak to the living.
But she quiets them
Shows her disembodied children
The wonders she still holds
Smothered, smudged and distorted.

Again they sob thinking she means punishment
In showing them her diminished beauty but it is not so.
She beckons them to look and understand
No matter the cancer growth of their chemicals
that poison her body
There is no permanent death for she will consume any and all
Even her own brood to continue on.

Her children may strip her of everything
As willingly as Shel’s tree gave herself away
But it is she who will remain long after their bodies
Have grown frail and decayed
For she is Mother Earth.
How can you say that the world is plain,
When waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain,
And puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer?
Don't you know there is magic here?

I look at the flowers and expect to see Fae,
Yawning and stretching at dawn of the day,
Or harvesting dewdrops which fall in the night,
Flitting and flying from left to the right.

Have you walked through the forest and breathed in the air?
Have you laughed as the chipmunks ran fast from the hare?
Have you noticed how leaves turn the golden light green?
Have you seen all there is in the woods to be seen?

Oh Friend, have you stretched out your hands to the sun?
Have you seen the sky change since the day has begun?
Will you lift up your eyes and be wrapped in the dark,
And watch as the moon and the stars make their mark?

Do you really not know there is magic here,
While the puddles are gleaming like brand-new veneer,
And the waterfalls fall with the fall of the rain?
How can you say that the world is plain?
uv 3d
It is an unconventional truth
It starts and it roots
You start the engine right
You gear the stem in sight
You step on it faster
It runs more like a master
When it is time it over takes
Its a chance it loves to take
Just try to step on the right
It slows down with all its might
Drinks of the earth it drinks
Empities it with a blink
It greeds over it more
Can you handle it like before
It runs in the count of miles
Starts eating the green inside
It donates a lot of stuff
Believe me you do not want it bluff
It slowly taking over
Planning to become a ruler
Multiplying more than our race
Becoming the faith of the earths face
Lets take our control now
Save the world before its down
Lets see the beautiful skies blue
Before they bid adieu.
what is happening

has the earth fallen
off its rotation
leaning on the edge
of oblivion

has the sun died
burnt out
like an exhausted
light bulb

has the moon imploded
fallen to dust

I realize not

and yet

the world seems askew
out of sync

I can't find an answer
it's out of reach
beyond an eternity

my mind can't fathom
can't comprehend

my thoughts are confined
within this realm

and so
it continues

the earth spins
the sun shines
the moon exists

and I wonder
I placed Roses on the gates to Agartha,
And receded to my knees awaiting purgation.
The Earths crux; the home of the holiest harbour,
Defying my sins in hopes I become host to holy invasion.  

Now I wasn't no Martyr and I wasn't no Libertine,
I even come bearing my soul drenched kerosene.
I wailed out "I beg forgiveness for all my sins - I beg forgiveness for everything",
As the thorns from the Roses pierced my skin.

I stained the golden gates with my blood,
as I cursed the Roses to eternal fire.
Each petal wilted down and turned black with my flood, encased in barbed wire.
No mercy for a mere boy soaked in frustration and pain,
Who feared the gates to Agartha to seal;  and never to be opened again.
is music to
the trees their leaves
rustling in the dance of the
wind’s fingers, like love after hours
sweet and tender so filled
with joy I wonder why the trees
make their music into a lullaby that
so many choose to ignore? But I, I listen and
it is the sweetest song. The
song of eternity, the melody of
forever. The leaves tremor – shudder
in delight so divine. It is nature, at its essence
so pure and
simple yet
it goes, sadly,
Mari 4d
The people, moved, and like miniature,
looked down on from the mountains.

Empires look small from aeroplane
windows so sometimes I insist on the aisle

seat, where I can imagine
you; big and full of all the worlds

I've ever known and will ever cry for. Except
perhaps for the earth-

a journey I can't yet fathom. Still
I pursue the future. Even under a microscope

you could barely see me shake. Lust
wanders while strength strains to meet

the struggle. My knuckles
white through wishing so hotly

for you for you for you
to introduce me to the faces

of you, illuminated by the drive along
the coasts where the waves crash

and the gulls caw and houses slide towards
the blue inevitable and planes soar

right in front of our eyes. And yes, sometimes
through very high buildings of time

& money time & money time & money.

The sun was there that evening.
                                                            “As was I confessed,” the moon.
Possibly the most Aquarius thing I've ever written.
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