Can't remember last time
I knelt down to dig in the dirt
but I do recall all us boys who'd climb
the sandy loam pile in the yard

to make castles, caves and highways
and let our fantasies reign -
oh what glorious days
when fun was simple and plain.

We cared not about smudges
holey pants or muddy feet
had not learned about grudges
nor become expert in deceit

hadn’t yet been betrayed
enough to live in hurt
and conjure all the ways
we could spite and spread dirt.

Maybe every now and again
I'd benefit from kneeling down
and digging deeper grain by grain
in earthy dirt - to find my being’s ground.

Adam touches down
in heaven upon the high.
But his highwater mark
wasn’t solely one way.

He could hear the jingle
upon the high resonates
beneath the ground!

He could see the cloud
forms on the top
and rains down to the ground.

Bow down on the earth
and rise high.
Lo, the golden spiral too,
curves downward
before spiking high up.

Oh, fallen angel, why do you weep, why do you cry?
Have you lost your way, have you lost your eyes
Defined by others, you can never get back into skies
Now, being torn down you must forget how to fly
And learn how to walk among these rats in the hellish fires

And if they see you trying to take off the ground,
They’ll tear your wings off and gnaw you to death in an instant count

Please forgive me,

For being absent for so long
Then coming back with no excuse
Because this time I'm wrong
This time I lose.

For seducing you for my pleasure
While my head was on the ground
I've deprived you from your leisure
To the earth you were bound.

For playing god with your pages
When this is no one's book
And it will be for the ages
Dear poetry, my nook.

To be blessed ,
favored and protected by the environment,
selected and isolated from your social groupings,
To be blessed is to synthesize what truly has meaning in life and self-meditate with the sake of life’s pace.
Before falling asleep, resting, force the mental to remain awake,
processing and breaking apart the information given today,
despite the fact that time wasn’t kind, brief or even prolonged; make it the moral commitment to self-reflect.
Make a correction if your answer is wrong; the fabrication of a scripture,
Make sure, for certain, that all the totaled scores calculate to a certain percentage,
Affirmed, scolded or ruled by another to convey your defined truth as inaccurate, almost there or rarely ample.
Time is allotted, effortless and to be taught a lesson is a blessing,
Space is limited, given and to be bestowed the gift of building is the set up version of a lesson, a shell of a blessing.

Detached;
My strings have detached
Like the vowels and constants I speak detached.
I watch the world
Through eyes not of mine
And live in a body
Living a life that doesn’t feel mine.
My chest feels empty
And my tone sounds vacant.
I am floating
Further from conscious
With no one to ground me
Everything seems not to be mine
To feel to touch
No matter how much I try.
For it merely feels like mist
Through which I pass my hand through.

Far and near
they are two stars
rose in the same orbit.

One shows up is a
dazzling shimmering sun.
One is so polished fine
as if the zenith is
zipped in zero bytes.

No grave can grasp
it in the end.
It has no end, no size
zero left to demise.

An ocean is no more
now is only a drop.
Now the ocean
is in a drop.

Still on the ground
walking the walk
but those giant feet
do not show up!

Can we hear it bending
the ear on the ground?
The orbits on the go
with the sun on the top
pile into the vibration within
only to float up a notch
then bends down once more.

I've listened to Bowie, I've dabbled with John
Obeyed there instructions and tried to get gone.
I've drafted the ship and gathethered a team
To disappear into space and follow my dream.
Inhaling O2---helmet is on
as I listen to a memorable song
Major Tom?
I can hear his voice now.
Release.
         A tear falls free.
As Im suspended above,
Startled to come down.