The cello sings Ave Maria.
Distilled calm; blister packs
In a wet July.

There is peace in every grain,
So fine. Wore away the stone,
Three drownings in the sea.
Annihilation

To build a monument
We settle upon:
Our paradise recovery.

There is warmth after the rain.
Ukulele played on the
Gran Cervantes balcony.
Off-white scars;
Pyramids with no eyes.

Every stoner sleeps.
Every kind heart cries.

The Arc of Life sings a lullaby,
Still I cannot get calm.
In a wet July

A comfort to staying inside.
We tried, wore away our lungs,
Three renewals in the sea.
A leap of faith,

An old keepsake
We contrived upon:
Our lunatic discovery.

There is movement in death.
Pollen falls to the ground;
Exhale of recovery.
Dead-end joy,
Statuettes with no eyes.

Every criminal weeps,
Every kind heart lies.

The cello sings Ave Maria.
The strings that heal
In a wet July.

I am glass,
sharp edged and *****,
offering reflections
or even visions.
I am glass,
inanimate and still,
giving scars and taking scratches.
I am glass,
fragile and careful,
put only where it's safe.
I am glass,
receiving buffers and renewals,
shining brightly and glistening
in a new sun.
But not too brightly,
sometimes reflecting no light at all.
Because your fingerprints are always
embedded in my surface.
I am glass.

High sails **** doldrums,
Late sun shrouded in white clouds,
  .  .  .  Eagle low in sky.

Picturesque perfect airfall!
Shines beauty between greeneries rebirth,
A torch or a curse,
Do we relight new tablets?
For they were here once already!!!
Dying and steady the piano keys stroke!!
Outdated, unveiled, uncloaked,
I'm fresh as the molecules I take in!!!
A representation of sin,
I play unwillingly.
The kneeling beings are approached about the throne,
Where heavens mine home,
For where is thine own young panderer?
Star wanderer of unknown distortion!!!
An old age misfortune has vexed thy crazed,
Enchanters!!!
For ive seen thy lanterns,
Now I must be guided!!!
Where thine guests are not invited,
But given all grace freely...

Wilt thou collect thine ruby onshore?
Peaceful galore...

Why am like kid to dance on my father's grave.
Why am not sure about my fallen story of love.
Maybe the passerby call me crazy of course they are not sure about who I am.
But they need to know the truth and the world needs to know all but still my mind is allergic on there quotes.
The world is truly nothing as it gives me reasons to back in my sorrow gracias.
Really our clan is not like wheels, so that we can back in our blood shed, and paint our feathers with the curse of black allies.
But please reflect on me, from my family grave I grew, in eyes of my heart murders I make my roots and again with the hands of my neck slaughters we make our land green by irrigating it with forgiveness and remembrance.

Now you can understand how my pain is my back pack that seek my joy but still be my burden to bring me down of my crown.
My king size my rope, there still a farm we need to renovate and tighten our knots so that the eyes keept at us many needs to change.
As we grow we will understand, once we were church mates later we became killers and others became hunts, once we were brothers later we fights in court, once we were Brothers later we became enemies, haters, and nightmare living.
From my pain I saw my light, I ended up smiling, my God served my soul and brought united
Really they fought, they cured our wombs, they rescued our blood, they vallued our land, and seek my happiness again.
Again we ate our bread with juice instead of roots and thirst, we made it sadly to make happy land ancestry DNA.

Let's build together, let's continue our strategy straight forward to our motto.
I see my lights starting and my vow renewals with my heart beeping maybe am winning and my sword will protect rather than shaddind our blood with innocents soul.
I see Victorious holding victory and the victory is my pride and that's our light.

Am I selling my soul to the corporate world
in a vain pursuit of future financial stability?
Should I have bought my future with what little I had
and spent it growing my skills in music and writing
so that I could know they were not wasted?
Should I give up on this new work-from-home desk job
where I'm paid commission and weekly bonuses
and won't see the residual income from renewals for thirteen months?
Can't I have something stable that doesn't bore me to death,
and something exciting that doesn't turn my anxiety to an 11?
I've never had a balance--every job has been one or the other.
And yet, as I yearn for a career in music, I recall my past
where I majored in songwriting and couldn't handle college
and I sigh and realize that jumping to a music job wouldn't "fix" me.
No matter what I'm doing, I will need to have perseverance,
and patience, yes, but also motivation and drive to improve myself.
These struggles that I face now at this job are the same ones
that I've always struggled with--they're part of me still.
And I've always blamed the job for not being a good fit--
and some of them weren't, true--but that wasn't the root of it.

A job that is worth doing
will take effort and drive
and no worthy income
comes by barely getting by
and doing the bare minimum
in order to escape a scolding.
I need to change my mindset
in order to grow above this--
this swamp of complacency,
this mire of despondent weakness,
this misty swath of ambiguous feelings
that have dictated my actions
for far too long. No.
I'll sit and get to work
knowing that I am securing a future
for myself, my husband, and family
and that one day, I will have time
to create art in any way I want
but right now, I have a lesson to learn
about working hard
and rising to the challenge.
Don't let me forget.
I can't look back now.
Up I go, to new heights
where the fearful me
thought the risks were too great.
Up I go, to climb my mountain
and win this battle, and the next,
until I'm out of the doldrums
and onto the path that advances before me.

Here goes.

How do you hold forever in your heart
with no hands?  Words that we utter
to ghosts are more real...

the distance between us all is the same,
living in the bubble, a thread in
the tapestry of our lives.

Promises stain our lips as they cross
boundaries.  In celebration of always
i give eternal somethings to nothings.

The summer fields are heavy with dew.
And then the blooms die, making
way for new deaths and old renewals.

This is my gift, a vignette of singularity;
a gathering of the sands of time,
granules of what we have, weathered.

.
1
Light on leaves is sometimes cold,
There is a season that shivers
And bird song is lost, vanishing,
Wind through the trees.

2
Rains travel to roots through grass
And leaves, left by the wind,
Handed from the sky, when time
Has left what becomes foretold.

3
The sun is a river of light in cloud,
Burns the waters into breaking
And the earth swims and cries,
The reverent trees have open arms.

4
One day in the spark of the bud,
The fires of bloom paintscent,
Birds do return, to seed in branches,
Sing their songs of renewals.

5
The forest new is blessed and green,
Creatures nesting in the deep heart
And rivulets rill down into earths,
Wind through the trees.

My Seasons of love

*The cool winds of the Rockies
sent a chilling snow covered winter.
For me the pristine Canadian snowfall.
Was a season of joy and love.
In our small cabin my love and I.
Filled our needs in each other.
Me fat with hope and joy
and you my sweet baby girl.
With the late spring of the mountains
everything was sown for summer.
But you were here with the new lambs.
We celebrated life’s renewals together.
The animals and me.
It fills me with amazement the newness
of the earth in the cool spring days.
I shall cover myself in warm blankets
In another far off winter
another season of love.
And I shall sow once again.

Crescent moon, I feel your every move....swaying soo silently! The earth's shaking violently to mad men in wartime mode!!!
When shall we learn? Where our skin peels from bombs? Mother earth is something wrong?I feel your ancient lands quaking!!!!

Shhh..shhh quiet oldened globe, your renewals bound to come when the clock strikes midnight!!!!

Seasons of love
Winters Child

by

Jude Kyrie

The cool winds of the Rockies
sent a chilling snow covered winter.
For me the pristine Canadian snowfall.
Was a season of joy and love.
In our small cabin my love and I.
Filled our needs in each other.
Me fat with hope and joy
and you my sweet baby girl.
With the late spring of the mountains
everything was sown for summer.
But you were here with the new lambs.
We celebrated life’s renewals together.
The animals and me.
It fills me with amazement the newness
of the earth in the cool spring days.
I shall cover myself in warm blankets
In another far off winter.
Another season of love.
And I shall sow once again

Season of renewals is here

Life is closing worn out chapters
Opening new ones

Season of soft sunlight is here

Life is seeping in life giving elixir
Breathing in dew wet new Suns...

I am here to hold you my uncertain sorrow, hold you my jubilant cries while holding with my other palm the shrieks of excitement. I am here to walk alongside you as you walk back from a dead end road you thought would go somewhere. I am here in the rain–unwilling to abandon you when you spit out words half peace & half misguided renewals of sadness. I am here for the sentimental-girlish **** others refer to, to lift your chin up and say “baby girl you got this”. I am here to squirm and dance with you when no one else will. I am here to hold you. I am here. Here, to break bread with you. Here to drink of the same cup and comb your hair when you’re drunk.