Why?

Do you treat me this way,  -  a place for burial,  
Why do you treat me  -  like i’m nobody  - ?  
-  With you being someone  -

Don’t you feel? -
- how i’m breathing underneath your feet,

Don’t you feel?  -  i’m a living nest  -  the birthing of new life,  
-  With the seed in my womb  -  i’m crying!  -  Why?

Tumblin’ Bi-latterial bumbkins
Smirk of untrustworthy salutations
Tribes with terabytes of tirades
Engaged in bipartisan relay races
Delay until faces grimace

They really forced our hands on this one

The fat men falling from heights
False winters
And radiation reproduction
Healing blemishes of backwater beasts
Who’ve grown oh so much since
And now silence for ***** sake

Foreign plants and fibers
No more human hands
to tear and manufacture
For cheap and foreign brands,
Granted,
She won’t care we’re gone,
She’s always been
Will be
Back to a blue blip
Little blue dot
On a mat black background
Grant no sound to the camera
Watching while zooming
Slipping and tumbling
Lonely but still working
Sending pitiful postcards
Of galactic grasses
To a dead receptor
Whose data’s been full for eons
Further and  

Each day

It is not raining

between the highest mountains –


here the source rustles.

A sitting sparrow on old willow branch,
the raindrop reflect my thought like moon upon lake.
The heart stir thousands thought.
Man is witness to heaven and earth,
his spirit bellowed in-between.
Where the heart tilt, heaven shift.
Where the heart waver, earth tremble.
So small... so this is my will.
Reflecting in my heart, the ripple is the will.
Insignificant and short-live;
but a single will to move the world.

From whence love comes;
so to ventures
the soul-

a vessel left
caverned
and wilting.

Hollow wisps
dancing in
drifting husks-

enriching soils
upon which
they fall.

Hooves pattering
to impress
the fauna that begs growth.

Packed earth.
The nudest berth
for which it burgeons;

a bed
to rest
our heads.

And watch
it all rise
around and about

us.

Swollen eyes,
These headaches
Tell me to stay present
Do not fear
We're one and the same
The pulse of each vein.
This noise
These sounds
Are not like the others.
Sweet syrup,
And warm embrace
Drown out the buzzers.
This music,
The sky,
Breathe in the filtered light
Just breathe.

I hold the tool. I am the blade. I drive
myself into the fertile ground. I dig
potatoes out. They were buried alive,
but in darkness they thrive. Now the old pig
will feast. When he grows fat I will slay him
to feed me and kin. I don't like killing
but when necessary it's not a sin.
I shall live another year, God willing.
I have long been on the land. I am old
but my sun is not yet setting in the
sky. When I was a child I was told once by
my father you become earth when you die.
If so, I hope my children carve my chest
with blade. I hope I'll yield a fruitful harvest.

Woodland gardens, in their clunky brown depth
Of wet, powdered strings soiled in sap
The raw scent of shapeless red clay lost and wondered -
Where I, remember briefly, catching a glimpse of a bear
Or rather it's fur.

Mingled in the concert, a blur of peculiar bursts of noises
Struck with no identity, whimsical and plain
The songs of festivities -
Cool, romantic winds fueled the ferris wheel
As the man pressed flatly in pools of his own vitality
Broke my heart into orbes of fear and empathy.

If you watch closely
You'll come to know that men won't lie when you're listening
They won't hide.
You'll lie for them to yourself when you catch your eyes closing.