A little glint of hope
and a smile to curve ones lips
a little inspiration given,
from eager fingertips

from a little bit of mystery,
to compelled by raw attraction
light turning into lightness
deflected obliquely, now refraction

Blissfully we are interfacing.

stepping back into the west
chills reverberate up and down my spine
chiseling open obsolescent padlocks
dangling with dust
on ancient treasure chests

pallid colors in the attic release
a blossoming familiarity
faint hints of retrospections float on faded paper
granting me access to roads
where no map is needed

as i peruse the streets
my heart flows coalescing with the vicinity
caressing each detail i transform to fluid
and fuse with the past
through fresh strokes of watercolored memories

recollections flash before my eyes
revealing antiquated stories
though thought forgotten
an etched history endeavors to define me
renewing itself as i turn each corner

i shudder at some remembrances while encompassing others
through synchronicity realization hits
that I am all of it
yet none of it
at the same time

familiar faces paint meaning onto me
no longer do they know me
yet they airbrush vestiges of yesteryear
and coat me with connotations
i allow them to think i am whatever they imagine

i morph into their canvas temporarily
then break free in multi-dimensionality
they don't hear me with a new listening
no longer invested in their projections
once sharp triggers now appear in soft focus

an auspicious mist lies around the edges
of my former life
it is as if i never left
yet traces of the east lie sandpapered in me
a maturation commingles with my former self

flushing out on my skin
tethering newfound emotions
a gentle gratitude for home territory
nestles softly
inward

i listen to the clicks
of my scuffed cowboy boots
on acquainted yet somehow distant sidewalks
the echoes layering multiple impressions
glimmering with the utter beauty of this terrain

as I wander through the majestic rocky mountains
drinking in the quaking aspen's crimson edges
interfacing the evergreens
hushed whispers of autumn loftily rest
juxtaposed neatly against futures waiting to unfurl in the wind

an amalgamation of intimate sights and scents
dance in open wounds
dazzling
homesickness cured
a wholeness returned

as winter's crystal dawn blooms
i realize the depth of my growth
for in leaving here and returning
i cherish the west
my home

©2016 janetaylor

a morning conversation
brought for those
of agnostic or atheist
doubting persuasion..
an exploration of
stone tablet verses
so to experience
some secular
everyday difference..

objections were tabled
citing limitations
much is left out..
that negative tone
we all know so well..
those shalt-nots
seem to prevail
in eight of the ten..

modern science
quite lately has
offered assistance..
producing a map
researching the brain..
two sides observed
left analytical with
edges restricting
joined by right
expansive and present
just out of sight..

left and right
interfacing
pulsating
might we say dancing..?
then to the tablets
with map in hand
left still speaks forthright..
but then a surprise
right is right there
in front of our eyes..
look once again
first in the listing
and once more
see number four..

now we rely on our
newfound map
remembering the dance
those leftward shalt-nots
might others be named..?
each one is dancing
with a partner
one clearly not seen...

tonight you told me
to remember this, in
your own way -- levity
leading the forefront;
"that(this) one night
when you stayed up
late, sewing and [stap]
[-ling] and otherwise
binding these little sheaves
of poetry for gifts to be
distributed the next day."

we relax and shrug off
the somewhat gruesome
dealings of the early evening,
speaking of perception and
human interfacing[projection].
a discussion of some deeper
thoughts followed, however
the part of me that still
wears footsie pajamas wouldn't
stop pulling on my arm.
as the clock hit 11:40, i went
to bed, turning briefly at the
stairs to say:
"merry christmas."

Life is Sew Amazing!
Once I was lost without a pattern to follow.
I discovered the Bible with its many golden threads.
Each verse was like a seam ripper, the words began to rip and open
the tightly woven seams of my heart.
The seams had been stitched with the cares of life.
Each stitch told the story of disappointment, pain, rejection, problems and strife.


Life is Sew Amazing!
Once a sinner now a new beginner.
I am a new creation a beautiful work of art sewed by the master seamstress.
There are no longer pins to ***** my heart only the love of a forgiving God.
The Holy Spirit’s scissors cut the old fabric pieces and stitched new ones into God’s design and plan.
He took His marking pencil and marked the lines I needed to trace.
I truly know that I am here because of HIS grace.


Life is Sew Amazing!**
The Bible is like a seam gauge, measuring tape or clear gridded ruler which instructs me in ways to measure up.
I am thankful for all the living appliques, which are examples of God’s handiwork.
Sometimes I’m stretched like a piece of elastic, under the weight of life’s pressure foot but He provides the interfacing to strengthen me.
He provides a thimble to protect me from the ****** of life’s transitions.
He is my loving pin cushion holding all the pins and needles
regardless of my condition.

I ve banned tec from our table
Tec is the terrorist in town
I ve banned tec from the bedroom
Tec is numbing us
Interacting is not cool
Interfacing is what's happening
I neck the new illness
Talking face to face
Is old school
Back in the day
When hanging out on walls
At the phone box
Now people go no where
Snap chatting what's it app app app
Instasham
Face ache
Phwww
It's all too much for me
Overloads pointless
tec is taking over

Dr. Who gave me the feels
While I sat in the kitchen with potato peels
Cooking up some pumpkin pie
Trying not to look in the corner of my eye
Amy Pond, I miss you so
But the Angel's hand said you had to go
You know, the power of three was better, I thought
When it wasn't three Doctors together and caught
Oh sure, they're awfully clever, (400 years and 4 seconds)
But wanting Amy with the Doctor? I'm not alone, and I reckon
She'd want it too, because that's how she is
The Doctor's her best friend, and as well, she's his
Rose Tyler, Rose Tyler, your body came back!
And this time it wasn't through a reality crack!
Interfacing with Bad Wolf Girl to realize YANO
But the part that broke my heart again: "I don't want to go."

Twinkling serene surface catches light rays sparkling interfacing rivers run to water falls into turbulent torrents eroding stubborn rock face the rage of white knuckled pounding determination of right of way to rough to ride comfortably ebbs to wider space to gain common streams once more than any other natural Force is underestimated as it desires this cover necessary for any treasure must defend its value from over zealous scavengers take without giving back to the cycle of life is alive with feeling and knowing to much never is safe to express itself.

It's not time
I count
it's the moment
and I
interfacing

none is there
to watch
or judge
me beside

the pulse
of the now
the fibre
of being

the test
of living
the air
I'm breathing

the thoughts
brewing
the will
in harnessing

the tension
unfolding
the wit
in pitting

the insight
awakening
the path
for charting

the clay
for moulding
the anvil
for beating

all in all
the becoming
in what
I am giving

frail though I am
in the enocuntering
knowing yet
I might be stumbling

but steps of the past
I would not be retracing
to what's before me I must
attend--there would be no regretting.

Fear of staying in sidelines,
as a waning voice,
and falling in a drain.

You stand at the door of light,
and see the truth― boundaries
crumpling.

Afraid of transmission of lies,
interfacing long threads
of darkness.

It was extraneous, A
lot of heat generated by the
conversions. The doorkeeper remains the same.

The wisdom goes with
a begging bowl. Spirit was to
become an incomplete text.

one simply tires of
interfacing with
the anonymity medium,
like one is to
embody some variant
of an alcoholic...
one tires...
one even attempts
to alleviate
the apathy via...
freely giving up one's
ability to toy-the-joystick
to become chauffeur
driven...
        ya...
    one even forget's one's
ability to use: i,
when what once
seemed plain & obvious:
the singular plural,
has become the plural
singular:
like some bad diabetes
variant of the
Socratic conundrum
between consecrating
the universals with
the particulars upon
the same altar of:
tongue waggling...
   one could suppose...
best be moving to
the Bahamas &
the integers...
      but alas...
         the good lord has spoken...
one by one....
oh good lord almighty,
if all the numbers
were given fractional
scrutiny...
there would be no serfs!
surds! sorry...
well one is complete in two,
in that there are two of une,
in... deux...
     français...
          je: it's like i was always
in anticipation mode...
like i was supposed to wash
the dishes, or... waiter....
français, quoique,
    je jamais était:
          une grand admirateur...
donc...
   je détester ()e français...
saleté-scénario...
                qui?
one could wish...
this... intermediate...
"bargain"...
       why wouldn't the nationalists
make curiosities
of our mismanaged
"network"...
                 we attacked
what was supposed to
remain:
       faire taire "parle"...
the royal pronoun...
has to buckle
at some point...
when the common man's
pronoun is attack
via the claustrophic
circus toys is the source
of the usurp...
look...
   look at me...
save a... ******* coconut!

All journeys are
Necessary and welcome..
Worthwhile destinations
Are worthwhile..
Journeys are celebrated
As interfacing unfolds and
Tears of joy and sadness
Attest..
However..there is this:
There is only one Journey
In which we have already
Arrived..Be there Now...!

Did I stutter?
The frame rate of my life has refreshed
ever alert, microphones intake the silence for a hint of mutter
counting fully textured, more risen bumps, now I am fully fleshed
I pull at my eyes to disconnect and only disarm myself of aid to my sight
I cover my ears to dull a damaged sense, tethered anchors float free downstream
on a river of memories, I weakly gesture to grasp them without much fight
the pain within them feels distant, I am aware and awake to see the inner workings of a dream

There is a primal instinct of fear
you cannot know what happens here
a curtain like a guillotine exists to separate
it falls like lead showers to incapacitate
if any wandering eye should ever peek
identify and patch the barrier, no area can be weak
our minds must be ever tricked and contained
by the upkeep of this beautiful craftsmanship, ever toiled over and maintained
we speak of the maze within, the pyramid to the god, our labyrinth and prism
that once illuminated would be rejuvenated, the spirit reincarnated in its peak form
the soul alight, a warden alone now elevated and free from the confines of prison
ultimate balance achieved in a host, a process complete, now the husk keeps the data warm

Can’t comprehend the changes because they are designed to undermine comprehension
a survival instinct that will drive you mad, a failsafe to sabotage seeing clear
striving to bend an ear, only creating tension
glimpsing between patches, accepting you’re aware, but nobody will really hear
a higher sense of self is a step closer to an upload
scared to be convinced, to buy into the delusion
if this universe is nothing but a node
and this is all a cruel illusion
then people will still choose comfort over entertaining serious debate
interfacing with a topic of serious connotations, it’s not forced by the simulation
free will chooses how to handle potentially dangerous traits
and not knowing what’s real are means to have your chances scheduled for termination
a human must never question, they must accept the approved, provided stimulation
and a person must know that reality is what they make of it, so long as they are within bounds
you can’t see what you collapse at the sight of, hence the power cycle of actualization.