Life’s emotions, like sailing the currents of oceans, the waves of time.
Two feet a deck your ship, Your gut, lifted up over water's crests, Next moment the solid wet floor drops from beneath you, Leaving your stomach in your throat & salty droplets on your face. Up and down, side to side, Life turns you about.
Sometimes the wind vacates your sails And you’re left still, motionless in the Vast blue desert, as if void of emotion
But as long as you have the North Star at night, to offer your direction, purpose and momentum. For without that, lost at sea, You may be lost forever!
With wearied ways the air looks grey It's colour stains surrounding planes Heavy clouds weigh eyelids down Condensed to rest as momentum slows Mellow tones and energy spent Low on conversation goals All but empty sentiments No plans today, worn out to play Sleep instead behinds your gaze Dreaming to regenerate
Get your hands ***** Dirtier, the need for change is a hurry Take on this fight Fight for justice, fight for what is right Must not let this momentum die Dying is for cowards, dying is for those who are not an ally If the country is set in flames Flames shall it be in, for the ones who died. Say their ******* names Dont't you dare put that fist down Down shall those murders go, we must do this to protect our children in the playground.
The wind slowly lifted its Find into the sky Swirling it around and around as it gathered momentum Momentum that helped the Find raise higher Higher and higher till it was rolling and sky bouncing Bouncing through the air as if it were trying to see Trying to see the nature of the wind that held it afloat Afloat so high and with such gentleness Gentleness that only nature can fool you into believing Believing the journey would never end The Find was wrong As suddenly as the Find was lifted to great heights it began to fall And fall it did...
Brian Hill - 2019 # 174
Seeing dust devils along the roadside can inspire words to be written...
I’m genuinely open-palmed to rain… and that skin of yours falling unto... my whole topography… gently sifting… summer showers from… salacious cumulus seduction… I wonder why there’s no escaping bliss… that indescribably sweet torture of… how good it feels to pull apart those ribs… and rip the last remaining strands of victimization... under the influence of sentient ambrosia… and the rivers break out galloping… splashing pirouettes on river banks… caressing, kissing, caressing, kissing… tenderness and passion… drowning hands tightly clenched, screaming madly… “I want you”…