Life force awakens
And forces its way
Through the hard dirt
Cracking through the density
Of all the life that once was
Now, beneath the surface
Ready to become
Something new

My breath deepens
My rib cage expanding
My stomach fills with butterflies
My heart surging with electricity

Something new is moving through me
Pregnant with life
But not with child
My being begs to
Release
Surrender
And allow
The birth of
Something new

My hair is a mess of antennae-
Each piece picks up static of days
dead and gone.

I run through the noise with unmanned hands- feeling the weight of each lock.

Where’s the golden child?
The girl with a head full of health?
Of ringlets
yet to be devoured by time, sweat and dissonance.

As I drift I hear the voice of my mother fading- her chord was cut and motioned off-air in the wake of new administration.

Memories trapped in the roots of straightened strands. Her signal comes through as a muffled cry:

“These ends may be swept away,
but my music will still play
through your stereo.”

mumbles, jumbles, into the night
my baby phoenix stumbles into its plight
a better life was merely imagined
but my dove, my dear, bitterly determined

huddled witnesses
there! in the square
a drove of fireflies, watching
her rebirth in fire, laid bare.

her tuckered tail, dead-centered --
shaking off crimson pearls of lunar lunacy,
henceforth, bleeding on her own time, her own tenancy.

her talons look at us.
we look at fiery lips that lash and scorch her.
never more before his penetrating gaze,
as her wings form a column of blaze.

she soars, she screams:
but to nothing but scorn --
the square-goers think she is just forlorn.  

my dove, my dear, for your ****** death --
I pray it greets not a dragon's breath.

Beulah gave out
Blossoms this spring
As big as sunflower heads.
They entwined the branches
Like the ribbon enclosing an expectant shower gift.
It's fragrance was the extract
Of an unbottled aroma
That is the Magnolia tree.
I rooted her in the yard
Four years ago.
She is iridescent for a brief time
Past mid Spring.
She has many Springs to go
Above the green growth below;
Many seasons beneth
The blue Summer skies above;
During the Autums ahead,
When I am dead,
And colder than Winter snows
Below her;
She will be there.
Rooted with care.

From all I say,

You can tell where I'm at
Whether or not am sincere
Whether it's all pretence
You could easily find the lies and the truths from all I say to you!
I'm an open book before the one I love
And that much control you have over me
You know me enough
You know where my mind is at.
I accept it all.
I don't fight at all
It's all okay.
I'll be fine.
I allowed it in the first place
I have to deal with it.
I just hope it all fades and...  
and we get back to normal or the awkward new normal
I don't know what it will be
But I hope it's the good kind
One that blossom
One that subdues the gray area we in
So we both live in peace

The flowers pass in waves
Waving as they go
Colours fit to burst
Petals pure as snow

The serenade of spring
The love new life will bring
Blossom on the trees
Fragrance on the breeze

While flowers pass in waves
Waving like they know
Colours fit to burst
Petals pure on show

The cavalcade of spring
When pigeons coo and sing
Heart strings stretched out tight
Each day’s a new delight.

(Plucking in the night ;)