human hearts beat in rhythm
against my stillness
like a knock
against a door
that doesn't want
to be answered

The rolling hills
Crest and
Dive and
Move like
Oceans,
Covered in armies of trees.

Trees,
Like thousands upon
Thousands of warriors
Made of leaves and
Dirt and
The souls of prehistoric
Insects that may have
Planted them.

The trees carpeting
The thunderous hills
Have a sort of marching
Energy to them.
Like they
Were frozen
In place.

I am reminded of the
Army of terra cotta
Soldiers.
Unstuck in time,
Stunned in space,
They silently guard their own hill,
Crumbling slowly,
Like cheese.

And the terra cotta arms
And the terra cotta legs
Of the terra cotta trees
Are attempting to drag
Their iron roots
Through the hills,
Sinking like lead
Through the earth,
As if it was meant to be the
Ocean it resembled so much.

Maybe,
Armies of troops once trudged
And fought through swamps
As vast
And troubled
As seas.
And a terra cotta war,
Unconqured by
Shattering warriors,
Is left like
Smoldering porcelin,
Still being fought
On the hills
Of Utah.

2.
You can still
See the remains
Of their clash;
You can analyze
Their placement
And movements
Like battlefeild strategy.

You can wonder what
Terra cotta general
Put them there.
Did the trees respect him
As a father?

His tactics
Funneled down to
Swarming like ants
Or dripping like oil.
There is the occasional
Silent,
Lone,
Watchman,
Angled towards the
Power lines,
The coursing blue veins,
And the sky,
Filled with the
Bright and
Rippling trails
Of their valiant enemy.

3.
The terra cotta trees
Give way
To the stone,
Brick,
And steel,
Of an upright man,
Overwhelming white
Against
Overwhelming green
Against
Overwhelming yellow
Against
Overwhelming blue
Against
Overwhelming black.
The people live unaware,
(With meerkat eyes
And posture)
Of the armies surrounding them,
Signaling the dusk of their time.

The trees will outlive us all
By millennia.
Their war will continue.
Our bodies will become
A wave in the hills
That they march through,
A crater in the commander moon,
A foot soldier in their
War,
A leaf,
A branch,
A bird,
Food for a plant
That is food for a squirrel,
Soaked in through
The churning,
Breathing roots
Of the terra cotta trees,
In the living,
Moving,
Tumbling hills.

A thousand eyes but
Nobody sees
A single face
That silently pleads
Quietly asking
With muffled cries
For someone to save her
Dry her tearstained eyes

Thousands of people but
She’s all alone
Disregarded
Completely unknown
With ***** hands
And calloused feet
Begging of strangers
Who’s eyes won’t meet

A thousand voices
A single plea
Unsteady legs
And blistered feet
Her shallow stomach
Has her doubled in pain
She finds some cardboard
To shelter from the rain

A thousand questions
Nobody hears
She sits alone
A slave to her fears
Her eyes close
Still broken and lost
She’ll sleep the night
But wonder at the cost

A thousand people
Walk down this street
Somebody sees her
She feels their eyes meet
How does it end?
Does she get what she needs?
You are who sees her
So you tell me

She’s dancing:
Closed eyes,
Open palms ,
Vague smile

She is music;
And sound waves
Are dancing to her

And when she moves
Her clothes are naked;
And when she smiles,
My thoughts are
(words are flaking)

*

She tunes me
To her frequency
Riding waves
Pulling vibes and strings
Charting shores
Wanting replay
Asking for more

The action... a stance
Or is it a sequence...
As in
the ordered number of
Events
Or movements
Or things
That follow each other...
Patterns, repetitions
Within one, or each,
Other.

These legs have abandoned me.
Two solid sticks, tree trunks grounded in
dirt. I am spoiled goods, good for nothing these limbs
move only when forced apart,
a monotonous machine that melts in your arms.

Disarm. Even the rhetoric inside has
gone to sleep.

If sleep is for the weak then I am not strong. Although
awake, these fingers remain unconscious,
shaky branches the sisters of dead roots,
forgotten by the gardener.

In hibernation for the summer,
wake me when the leaves begin to fall then
plant me again.

Plant me tall,
I want to see the sky.

Plant me small,
so I can lie and watch the scattered stars disperse.

Plant me strong,
so I sleep through the night and **** what they say, because
sleep is never weak.

Plant me, but nothing else.
This time I will water myself.

BANG; another kid, another life

another dark toned baby
taken away for no real
reason
another mother mourns
over her proudest accomplishment
gone
another brother cries when he
passes that street corner
another sister says nothing...
she is desensitized from
last week's loss

BANG; a different kid, a different life

It’s okay
To think
Beyond
What seems possible
The intangible
Keeps us
Moving

A ritual
of lust
is my
attitude to
play as
victuals there
subordinate trust
oft hype
where hyperbole
may end
politics of
right and
result in
death as
eco is
new house
with pep.

I hear a fountain signal the afternoon.
The pouring waters fueled a rush to my soul's energies.
The smells of hot pavement and the feel of the beads of water
Hit my body in waves of waking humidity.
I felt my senses awaken, further, even though I was awake.
My eyes needed to see the sun burrowing through the billowed clouds..
The sounds of children, below my floor, made a smile appear..
Upon a face muffled with heavy burdens..
I feel lighter, still, as my heart beats with fluid and lively sincerity...
A mind once clouded by pain is now more alive and much more clear.
The smell and look of the green grasses
The city skyline and traffic moving
Started a song in my joy that I was deeply, too it, grooving.
It doesn't take much to create motion in a once stuck and motionless spirit
Burdened down by question and worry...
Now with Mother Nature's Calling...
I can go forth, through this moment, in a brighter mood
and a vision that is much more fluid with her light.
A way that was cleared of humanity's  storm's debris
And the way is much less, to my weary eyes now less burdened, much less blurry.