Drowsy Divine

Who's been looking for clues of intelligence 

 out in the distant dead light,

We wash ourselves in the song of curiosity 

and ask "Mother, where are my brothers and sisters?"

Why do I paint these things? Why do I dream of three eyes 

and a handful of soil? Why do I hear the prayer that hums?

If this planet spins through the sky outside the sky, 

then I'm a traveller sitting still.  

And I lament my stillness until now, when a voice

told me that I've been hurtling through the sky outside the sky, 

that I've been spinning with God Mother, moving and never moving.

I'm tired and sometimes sick but the gravity of this cosmic love is always. 

I wanted to be always, until now.

When I realized that I was,

that I am.

My Reason To Wake Up Through All The Bombs

My soul is a message,

my heart is a map, 

my mind is a canvas, 

my hands are the light.

My fingers the compass,

my blood is the voice,

my temples a magnet,

my eyes are a door.

I am, who is the Universe.

2:05 a.m

Yep, I've been talking to Life again.

When I'm Sad, I Sit And Write, or Is There A Recipe For Smiles?

Is there a recipe for smiles?

How about really good sleeps with dreams that I remember

or Navel Oranges

How about tea in the morning, wrapped in a blanket next to someone you love

Sunshine that doesn't burn, a breeze that doesn't chill

A pen-pal

A teacher who knows you

Brave, "ain't afraid of the dark" hand-holding

And clean sheets

Nervous kissing

Long haired love

The language of the soul

Always

Infant smiles, infant hands

Long long long hugs

Longer friendships.

Friends.

Friends.

Skinny/Love

so happy/sad

so bittersweet

tears on upturned lips

ghost of a girl I don't know how to meet

Laughing With

When you wrote that

you wrote my soul and

you were my heart

When I read that

I loved you and

you didn't know it

You still don't

but you keep writing

and I'll keep loving

Mom

Grey cardigan on the lamp post

White fan on the desk

Teal blue typewriter on top of the dresser

Blankets in the chest

Laundry in the corner

Dust all over the shelf

Dishes collect on the headboard

I'd clean but I've got no help

I miss my momma

I don't wanna grow up

I miss my mother

I don't wanna grow old

I miss my momma

Responsibility's not for me

I miss my mother

Mom, please don't die

Stomach

My stomach weighs heavy

weighs heavy it

feels like stone in

stone

a ball of tenseness

staring stone

It's heavy

A Thought?

Contemporary expression 

is looking like a journey into

Meaninglessness and the

no strings attached exploration

of aesthetic dimension.

"If it feels good do it," has become,

"If you can feel it, do it."

Pure, Meaninglessness, 

set to the rhythm and the 

pulse of established beats

and known frameworks.

Unintelligible aesthetics. 

Hipster Scum.

I smile politely.

A Night

Righteous brigand

Vexing gait

Holy octet

Rainbow plait

Wizard fret

Golden bow

Eyes of white

Seeds to sow

Mystic mirror

Mountain pass

Septic whispers

Tongues in brass

Careful prayer

Morning arrow

Thirsty oil

Temple three

Ochre moon song

Dusty chant

Forest sorrow

Pious cant

Driftwood chalice

Crown of light

Revelations

Welcome Night

"Cathy" ?

You called me last night

My phone was off, which it never is

Call display doesn't work when the power's down

Strange and bad luck, alas

Your message was nice, but no callback number

Shit

Shit

Shit

Call me back, leave your number, Facebook me

Such is life

Sidekick

The Android threw it all away

to play show tunes with a Relic...

Lily White Jiggling Terror

I remember it well because she came down naked from the open porch onto the gravel driveway. It was somewhere around 1:30, pitch dark. As I said, she was naked, endless rolls of fat dancing and jiggling, but somehow, she'd thought to put on her slippers. Pink, the slip on kind with the open ankle. They were sort of fuzzy but worn down - they looked sad.

She waddled through the snow and to the shed door. She fumbled with keys in the lock, and finally managed to open it. She entered.

A scream tore through the silence. She came out the door again, backstepping quickly. Then she fell, tumbling back on her huge bottom. Her cry was pathetic and gut-wrenching. 

A shadow emerged from the shed, huge and- 

And then I left. That's all I remember. 

Check

I have a pencil and a toothbrush,

a coat hook, a feather

I have everything I need for an alchemist's dream

I have what I need for this night

I have a book and a black pearl,

I have the Christ moth, a crucific

I have a capful of Jack,

A brand from the coals

A coat hook, a feather,

A pencil and a toothbrush

I have everything I need for a Wizard's dream

Therapy?

A therapist? 

Isn't that just a prostitute for the mind?

The Question On My Mind Is:

Who am I to you?

She's Sick # Two (2)/ Perfect

Dead eyed in the blackout they made you

They conspired to kill you

You used to come to bed with

Fevered eyes 

And tell me about Christ

And the Tree

 

But now you swallow huge yellow seagulls

Loud angry pills

They bring louder silence

Silent sadness

No more singing, or smoking

At the piano on a Sunday morning

You're just a shell now

I loved you more, before the medication

She's Sick/She's Perfect In That Moment

I love you more 

When you stop your medication

I love you more

I see you more clearly

I hear you better

When you stop your medication

I love you more

When you hold your hands just so

You wring your wrists

And curl your toes

And fidget

You're my pretty kitchen sunlight 

Girl

And I love you more when you stop those pills

I love you more when you're God or Theresa

I love you more when you're Pearl

I see you more clearly

I hear you better

When you stop your medication

And shimmer glow

So don't go back to bottles of those

Little killers

Up and down killers

Don't go back to those

I love you more 

When you stop your medication

I love you more

********

A Field Below

Two crescent shapes climb the night

Two stars follow

Our hands join in a field below

We mirror the sky

I've been ready for love

In a field below 

Two crescent shapes ascend your back

Stars follow

The Indigo in your skin

Mirrors the sky

I'm so ready for love

In a field below

DisRhythm

The sky is a bruise 

Dear Theresa I am home

My mother made the tea

And I will drink alone

Now she tells a story

Of weeping spiderwebs

Her breeze is just a whisper

Her hair is spun silver

I am just a ribcage 

A skull

And sorrow

Trapped in a bottle

Waiting