Today was a day when rain poured against shattered hearts
Breaking pieces like a drumroll, sinking droplets upon surrender
Thickening air against chest conpressions, loss of breath
Gasping for relief from this winding road, where footprints are lost
Gathering the strength to be strong for the battle
Yet tears flood palms, black stained cheeks of sorrow
Screams fill the mind of weakened prosperity
This load to carry, being pulled down by gravity
Now that the storm has passed, I look up
As night pushes up the day, I will take you by the hand
I will hold with all I have, here where we stand
I will not let you die, and be left there
Where God knows where…..
If I could, I would, wish it be me
To take it all away, to take this pain
Give it to my body – oh Lord – hear my plea
I will sacrifice myself for her to be free….
Burden of shifting cells, ripping away the soul
Making the thoughts become uncertain
Shaken, taken, and left out to dry
Just don’t close the curtain
Red velvet strands, dripping from incision
Tubes of filtered forgiveness, clotting memories
The great depression, lies upon whispering winds
The storm is here, pouring out clouds of confusion
There will come a time,
When the storm brings it’s rainbow
Across your heart,
Bringing sunshine, from above
On my knees, without a word from silent lips
But a loud scream, against my soul
Tears falling upon the floor, puddling
Then I saw you, there, a shining light
Sigh no more, mother, cry not a tear
For God is there to make your dreams better than hopes
He has his arms around you, tightly
Sigh no more, mother, he will help you cope…
My lemon tree has grown
Six are now oval
Perfect shades of green
I open my front door
A glorious smell
Allow my lemons to grow
It is bearing fruit
I can’t wait
To wrap my hands
Around their thick skin
Smell the fragrant oils
Squeeze out juices
From my light yellow
And, reload my fuckin’ life
It’s like I’ve been using paint thinner, like life is too thick on the
canvas so I have to thin it out so it’s not so loud and bumpy. I
wrestle with the color palette, infra red for super sonic visual
orgasms of mayhem and moonshine. Someone cut the mustard,
I need that deviled egg paprika thing. I spent years in dark theatres,
no wonder I have a hard time with reality, the pretending is so much
richer, safer, freeze dried…like ice cubes in an ice tray, I belonged
somewhere and had to know my entrance and exit. Yes it was the fast lane,
the someone discover me lane, hoping someone would trip over me in
traffic school or notice me as I took their drink order hoping they left me
a big tip. Back to the theatre… it was so nice living someone else’s life,
having some else’s dialogue, acting out someone else’s drama and being
able to drop it at the door. My own life is another story, I’m the leading lady
trying to learn my blocking, remember direction, remember my lines, that’s
really it. That’s what it all comes down to, what’s your motivation,
make sure they hear you in the back row, and remember to stay in your light.
maybe from the art gallery cafe
you may like to hang many pictures on your walls
sorrow and love is just a palette of colour waiting to be mixed
feelings just liquids we stir stained cups left behind
memories hang and gaze back at us somtimes to remind
(comments turn into poems)
Time, Where did it go?
I sit here
Wondering on God’s thumbnail
My place in the whole scheme of things
Did I make the right decisions?
If time is infinite
Then I should meet myself
Back where I started
On that infinite bow tie loop,
If I made the right decisions?
If I made the right decisions
Would I be looking at myself now
Across God’s thumbnail
Thirty degrees to the left
My other self
thirty degrees to the right.
Should I have not merged with myself by now
On God’s thumbnail.
Or did I make all the right decisions
And just don’t comprehend.
Across a chasm of lost time.
Do I jump
Risking eternal damnation
In a loop of lost time.
Or am I in hell on the infinite loop time
Separated from myself
Thirty degrees to the left
Reunited with myself
Happy, joyous, and free
On the infinite bowtie loop of lost time
Once upon a campaign
a future president convinced us
the now is fierce and urgent.
I have discovered his error.
Now is not urgent.
Now is a flower in a moment,
a bee on its petal. Now is a rock
washed over by a stream.
Now is one hand held in another.
Now is a breath taken. Now is a sigh.
Now is death, passing life on its way out.
The most revolutionary thing
we can do is slow down.
The only thing urgent is to
pay attention. The only thing fierce
is to know you are alive.
“One is still what one is going to cease to be and already what one is going to become. One lives one’s death, one dies one’s life.”
“The difference between art and life is art is more bearable”