staring at an empty plate
not sure what to do with it-
the longer i look at the clean
appearance
the more i want to drown it
in food
and forks
and I long to taste what might
cover the soft flowers
and devour that which lines
the center
and oh, perhaps you too
might undress yourself so quietly
so i might cover your outer corners
with sustenance and longing
you are my appetite
fueled and filled and quieted
by sweet resolve
Tag: poet
in the rain
I remember sitting under the bridge
In the rain
Your body pushed against me
As we smoked
The scent lingering on your lips
As we kissed
I felt alive next to you
And would have lost
Myself to your deep body
If you let me
oh great life!
Light blue sky
Flashes in my mind
As the strong winds of springtime
Air out this dusty heart…
And the open windows of my soul
Collect sounds of songbirds
Within the walls
And even the photographs
Are smiling…
What release can remove the darkness
Of the past and replace it
With such warm light?
Oh great life! Though I’ve doubted
Your love
I know you’ve always been just outside
Waiting for me to welcome you
spirit animal
I entered the cave as before
Naked, hair flowing…
But the other side was raining
The flip side of sunny
It was nourishing-
The dark side of the world…
The trees welcomed me with smiles
And remembrances
Joyfully I hugged them
With the entirety of my heart..
And I felt a spider’s web brush my face;
I wondered at where the spider could be…
And I saw her
She was behind me, reading my
Steps… unsure of how to approach
I reached out to her energetically
And felt her face next to mine
This white wolf
And she remained close to me
Then she asked for my heart
And I watched her eat it
besmirched I travelled back down
The road, and through the portal
Back home
sorry i am
i could tell you again
how sorry i am
for the demons that still
walk my dreams
and line my head…
i could tell you again
that you’re not to blame
for all of this
heartache…
that broken pieces of the vase
in which i store my soul
are lying at my feet-
and when you step-
you cut
and bleed…
i could tell you again that i am sorry
for it all….
but i don’t think you can hear me
anymore
eclipse the day
daylight is brewing
and the sound of busy
birds fill my head with pretty
tunes
they have been singing
for hours now
as i’ve laid in bed-
alone with this anger,
my heart
and my head-
it’s raging through, lashing
and scratching
so appalling, alas though,
what else what can i do?
i’ve sat with this pain for so long now
i’m drowning in the darkness
of this horrid state…
trapped, i wait for the sunlight
to remind me that i’m awake
and okay…
how does one keep going-
when anger-so strongly- can eclipse
the day?
spots of time
lost to words that dangle
in the air around my eyes
i pull them one by one
down from the ether
and decide how they fit
together
this puzzle of poetry that haunts
my dreams with color and sound,
defining feeling and thought…
how can these hanging words
understand the utterances
of my heart?
oh wordsworth and your spots of time!
would that I also get trapped within
my own reveries under the
sycamore tree of art! i would lose
myself forever
this wondrous bellow of love
and pain…
of darkness and suffering;
how is this human condition
so clearly marked by a universal
language lingering in the sky?
the fool
there was nothing there for me
when i looked into that
grand expanse
it was all just noise
and though i longed for some
great sage advice
that might lead me perhaps
to that which i seek
i sit in disappointment
because the darkness i so
wished to confront
was but my own echo
back at me
the frailty of life! what can release
the dull ache that lies just beneath
this exterior of cool?
perhaps it’s all just a fake
and I am the ultimate fool
mighty river’s flow
the tickling of rain, falling
against window glass lines my view
with streaks of fractured light
and broken sound…
the quiet death of suicidal
drops, colliding against clear
but solid- illusion…
how I feel for these lovingly mistaken
falling children of the clouds
oh that they should suffer
at my windowpane
without knowledge of the mistake
they are making in their falling…
and to see the love
my heart holds for you yet the same!
and decide rather to fall through trees
instead onto pane…
so that I might turn from that
which mirrors my descent and land
instead into the mighty river’s flow
violent and exquisite
alone, with just this downpour of
thought- and thunder! breaking the sky!
i am silent and hopeful, as i try to
remain untouched by the rain that falls
in sheets so heavily upon my mind…
and though the violence of this storm
is blinding, i am ready to cleanse the
heart of that which it has long denied!
deny today, i will not, yet find that which
is more useful to my heart, a cleansing touch
of acid rain to rid this chest of
all that was left behind…
these thoughts of you! may they drown
upon the puddles of my spirit
collected within my mind’s eye…
as the thunder clouds that grow within me
clear your essence from my memory
in a most violent and exquisite way
the SIBYL'S SONG 