The wind and the sweetness
in the mix of this somewhat chilly day
I ordered an ice cream waffle; waiting
on my order while waiting on a gaining thought

I’ve gained peace, that which I thought impossible
Watching the passerbys, with a full mouth of ice cream
And behind it’s stain, was a genuine smile

In amongst the chaos of the random wind,
the jumping cheers of children on a jumping castle
The happy scary clown with white on his face
The flies trying to share in on my dessert,
and the eyes of those who had seen me alone

—I wasn’t alone;

Quite frankly I was far from feeling alone,
and feeling any kind of low

As with the tingling chills down my spine
of this really filling meal
It was to me, a moment so real;
I wouldn’t dare pinch myself to see if I was dreaming

And even if it were a dream,
twas a sweet one indeed
As all I needed was:
spoiling myself with something sweet indeed

Empty temp me I think I mighta bent me
spent me now I’m broke
I get broken a lot looking for hope
It’s the pain and the strain that I smoke
I feel like hell and it drags me down
with every drag I take
not clowning around
It’s pouring rain
watch the blood run
Running in circles, call me insane

On some mornings
mom would ask
if Kyle and I wanted waffles
these were no ordinary syrup catchers
marbled by deep purple
stuffed with blueberries

When I was born
I was born a blueberry
due to the blue pigmentation
resulting from lack of oxygen
because of my mother’s smaller stature
that day a screaming smurf was brought into the world
and I’ve been getting redder ever since

Above the sink in my dad’s home
is a small purple bowl
handmade with a ceramic stem that broke off years ago
on the inside bottom is an engraving
that simply reads
‘Blue Berries’
but no longer carries fruit

Lacy blue bra
strewn across the floor
of an empty apartment.
All is still -
only dust particles
float through the air,
undisturbed by human troubles.

Shades hang open,
streams of sunlight filter in.
The rainy dew
of yesterday's downfall
lingers still.

The scent of waffles
wafts up the stairs.
Visions of
blueberries and strawberries and whipped cream
fill the eyes, nose, and mouth -
salivating for more.

Eyes snap open.
A day begins once more.

waffles, waffles a real great treat.
I cook them for breakfast as their fun to eat.
Buttery and light, my taste buds take flight.
In fact, I just might eat them tonight!

Turn the tables
tumble through tears
totalitarian thespians trying tired themes
Tanned tenants thrive
trespassing turtles turn towards tornadoes
Tested trees tower tall
tomorrow terrifies Timetraveller Tom.
Again and again
I have to make my choice
between your fiery face and the endless maze
But then I remember
my heart is made up of
a thousand tiny
Belgian Waffles
A thousand tiny Belgian Waffles.

dont call me a pancake,
i am not a flap jack.
i have pockets for syrup and butter,
and i am obviously hacked.
i can be made into flavors and be savory,
or remain sweet and sugary unbearable.

But--

no matter what you want to call me,
i am a waffle, a baked piece of yum,
so give them one or two...
and dont be the fool.
because its the tool that makes it go...
straight to your lips and eventually to someones hips.

so bake me, shake up the flavor...
stack me into a cake and slice me up,
but when the steam stops...
i am full of love.

I taste the tongue of time
I lay down knowledge before wisdom
for every rhyme

I trusted too long
I got a little fried , . . . in reflection
I don't believe in wisdom anymore

The ripples break breeze
In the ocean where sandbars rise
I don't believe in reason anymore

I'm an ancient descreation
An obeyance out of time
I don't believe in love anymore

Don't scoff at me
Or petty me down
I don't believe in friends anyhow

One by one , thinking about all the things
That will never be done
I don't believe in goodbyes anymore

Well , you are asking ,
What do you believe in ?
. . . . pause . . . .

I believe in these . . . . .
Highest trees , ships at sea ,
Kites flying as high as can be . . . .

. . . just a few things . . .
and dreams .