#sg
I was light and air, formless, boundless, free.
I was the sparkle in a drop of rain,
The first blades of new grass in spring,
The whisper of a warm breeze,
The promise in a lover's kiss.
I was also the darkness and silence,
The stillness of stone,
The emptiness of space,
The cold oblivion of snow,
The heaviness of grief.
I was the breath of Osiris,
Living and dying,
Dying and reborn,
In an endless eternal flux.
I was something else as well,
Something small and fragile,
Impermanent,
Something that could love and be loved,
A beating heart,
A mortal soul.
I was both and all and none
And I breathed.
Jun 7, 2020
Jun 7, 2020 at 7:34 AM UTC
Penny vase made from
the brown voided canyon rusting.
Friends that were made of waste,
they said time was simply turning,
the boat spoke back and said the depth of ones nature
could walk on water
But a deep voice
Was all that sprayed in pungent
aerosol and
displeasure.
Do we need to be on the same boat?
To drift into the beguiling surf?
Altogether
Better if we were dispersed
Dropped by the caving soft curve
Sliding through the unseen wash, watching your muddy glare.
Track the force in
blueberry motion
pulling and pushing us,
a sollen hand
and flying sleeve
The touch of flaunting fingertips and strings,
The fluttering wick
Swing and swished.
The chest of wonders beaming
Transmitting
a map
and lines like hay and wires
They were all exposed in the lines of her eyes
Maps
You frightened me that sleepy day
The dusted arsenal stick
Casted me on a rod made of hibiscus dew and syrup
A venomous hook that entangled my earrings
The push and her wave of desire,
Maps
To her treasure,
Reeled it now all over her wet webbed feet.
Caged,
Maps
and pressure
of the rocks falling against the time ticking
Hours away from the swaying shore.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 8:56 AM UTC
Mic
Hail
Rough
Hail
A body made from the undying devotion was to be forgotten
Built by the memory of devotion's husband.
A swaying heritage
Under the surface
Resting
On a sleepy cloud made of forceful courage.
Her voice
The forest hovering
Above
and all of life
Hanging
From her glass lips of
The worldly wife.
Her weightless gold of skin
Running,
My saviour is a Queen.
Precious beyond anything,
Hey! her love is in everything.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 11:39 PM UTC
There the merry hologram glowing blue purple blue
Cactus human cherry on a stool
Beyond the window he would not look
Inside the sky made of wood.
The barber talks to his ferns
The flowers he understood
The living they earn
Sparkling its rough nails of your barber.
The breath and life he will spruce with apple-pie order.
He listens to
Each one story
Always about a time
A time which was cheery.
He looks piercingly to all their prickly
What he touches intently
To turn the time that latches onto your head which started feeling heavy.
Lifted into glee so jolly and carefree.
A man
Or the boys
They finally stand up easily.
Capes dusted
Top hat powdered
Their voice of fears collected as tips
For pricking up his ears.
The door that opens in the end
The swirling light that beckons
Hair became a way to lighten ---
When times get rough and belligerent
Cut it off, rugged and ruffian.
The barber hears him and all
The others like soldiers
They share their laughs
Troubles leaving shoulders
Leaving like a waterfall.
The barber knows everything
The barber knows all.
Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 10:54 PM UTC
Hvad er det dog
du leder efter
som du tror
du kan finde i mig
Har du søgt alle vegne
og er endt hos mig
Fik du et kald
der sagde
at det var jeg
som holdte nøglen
Eller er jeg blot det sidste sted
den kan være
Sep 4, 2014
Sep 4, 2014 at 6:10 PM UTC