Boho Happiness: May 2010

her

she is of blood and honest face
for the sins she cannot taste
life with no reality in the hole she creeps
in bed, at night, she lies and weeps
save her soul and save her mind
understanding and morals she longs to find
why won't she help, why won't she try
why can't i have back
the old blood of mine.

memory of a trip

drip drop
tick tock
when will the madness stop
all the days pass by so fast
stop the yelling and make it last.
the sun goes up, the sun goes down
let's take a trip to another town.
forget your worries, forget your fears
smile again and i'll wipe your tears.
go to sleep and wake the next day,
come on children, outside to play.
just take a deep breath and close your eyes
don't let your anger break family ties.
today is almost over and
tomorrow will be brighter,
just remember all the good times,
and your burden will be lighter.
it'll be alright, it'll be okay
i'll be by your side whenever you say.
drip drop
tick tock ...
when will the madness stop.
all the days pass by so fast
so cherish life and make it your best.

love, life

my love
my companion
   free
   humble
   gracious
on top of the world
blessed
   at last
my heart cries out
   for you
   for your touch
   your kind words
that voice that eases all pain
the way you were beautifully made
i've dreamed about you
   not knowing who you were
   or what you were like
but knowing that your soul
   was waiting
   and i was waiting
on you
to join me
to walk down this life
hand in hand
   loving
   caring
   comforting
each other for all times.
the hassle of the world
   passes by
   fades away
when i dream of life
   with you
   life with you
is where i want to be
   seeing you
   touching you
   breathing you
i want to be there
   when you awake
   and when you lay your head
i want to be there
   when you are soaring high
   or when you fall
i want to pick you up
to hold you tight
when you cry
   or when you laugh
i will be by your side.
i am comforted
   i am sound
   i am free with you
now that i've found you
   i can be still
   i can rest.

unraveling me

this place
breathes
slowly
inhaling deep,
one by one
the meekness
of the wind
tip toes
over my skin
gently hushing
my woven thoughts
unraveling them,
thread by thread.

what can i tell you...

expression, confession
hustle in the vines -
let me spin my best -
respect
this expression in my mind -
scribbles, scratches -
the direction of my lines
points to the obsession -
creativity to find.

expression, confession
what can i tell you?
lessons, lesions
stored up behind
standing up in a line -
stressing, confessing
the history of a life -
leave no words,
no paragraph of phrase
all i can tell you -
i have traveled
where i must
where i did
to show you the
expression, confession
the hustle of my steps -
so let me spin my best
of the yesterdays at rest.

thin place

a thin place -
where spiritual and physical are close -
a thin line between them -
a top of this mountain
i sit
by myself and reflect, breath, see
---the city lies below,
but i see where the line
of sky and earth meet -
but there is no line
it is one,
like a pair of shoes.
what good is one -
well, unless you have one foot -
you'll only need one shoe.

push

one after one
stacked, stored
packed - lacking
this harsh push
needed,
wanting liquid ideas -
no concrete blocks,
rocks, stones of
the useless matter -
wanting liquid ideas
to pour
to adorn the simple walls...
build, paint, spackle -
tackle this storage,
unshackle the gates -
open up for business.
open the doors,
polish the floors
fresh tulips on the table -
stable -
stabilize -
put up, put in place,
each perfect place
for the liquid ideas -
let them drip and drip
and absorb in the walls.

the kind you want

i have amazement
drilling from my
fingertips
pulsing,
stripping skin
the layers peel off -
the juicy fruit inside -
the kind you want
to eat and suck dry
until that last sweet,
sweet drop...

i want wings

strings attached
latched unto my heart
cut them
burn them
give them to another
i do not want the strings...
i want shoes
i want wings
for traveling, going,
going into lands
not of my familiarity.

finding

the souls of many...
strings pulled at similar differences,
through streams of consciousness
transferred through our tongues;
why some strings pull soft,
some tug tight.
what bond relates and unifies us all...
a longing to reach a journey's end...
or moments slipped by
before the exit.
explain the explanation,
and again in time.
it sleeps slow, winding into affection,
subjection upon execution -
and through amusement
we find our laughs.
we find IT.
and in another time....
we FIND.

night class

monochromatic -
monotone -
bore me once more
drill holes in my head
so that this blank image
you are providing me
can drip out onto my paper ...
one thought,
one color -
bore me into the ground ...
waste away
my hours.
this useless,
circular information
drilled in, hammered
strongly to my time ...
wasted, poured out
of your mind -
to connect
with my fresh,
absorbing brain -
my sponge -
dripping knowledge, creativity -
but wasted, wasted
time in this chair,
in my ears -
nothing comes in
and absorbs itself in me.
monochromatic
monotone ...
when can i go home?

memory

it struck her as odd
how it could correlate the smell,
sound, taste ...
evoke the senses and the
emotions can be as clear
as that old day.
it seems the memories are
sweeter after they are present again
in the future.
and they seem to linger better
and always shed light on the positive.
the beauty of the moment
gets inspired by what you are trying to make of it now.
the pieces of the puzzle
are once again matched.
and things start to make sense again.

forgotten juice

this sweet juice falls with pure grace down my chin
reminding me of that forgotten taste, that forgotten place
where rules went on justified, standing by
like soldiers waiting and the suspense tainting
until the war awakens and the changes being taken
from the innocent.

where the blueprint of our existence still on the realm
but the world was to overwhelm
where only a few think to benefit more than selfish impulses
that thrive through their veins, like running down that fastest train
invading and swallowing whole, our people and our role
trying to steal our chance to quench
the taste of the forgotten juice,
that sweet forgotten juice.

belly down

the hand that rubs the belly down
feels what it must to hear the sound
of the life that is breathed within
to share the moment, to spread new kin
of all thy spirit that loves my minute
of familiar quiet that lies within it
grasping the patterns in love's hour
adoring pleasures that none is sour
coming in forms which i do not deserve
doing what is called of me to preserve
a wholeness of one, united
the mission started, two in one, not subsided.

we are both

he is both,
i am both,
we are both
walking down
and stepping
over
that white line
and
we feel it
in our spine,
the longing
to find
the other side
of the road,
calls to us
day in and
day out.
visions silently
tip toe about
taunting
teasing
trickery in pleasing
it calls to us,
day in and
day out.

text for a painting

we must accept, that this world is our haven, for now.
we are here to realize.
we are here to learn.
we are here to awaken the senses, awaken the soul.
we are here for each other.
to love is the answer in our journey.
though we seem different, we are more alike at the core than seen.
we all must meet the essential needs.
we all love.
we all fight battles in our lives.
we all have people and times that go in our lives.
we all grow older.
a time to understand and a time to share is now.
we all are born, we all will die.
but come together, so we all shall live!

monadnock angel 1920

angel, light
feathery dust
walking down
the mountain
carrying trust ...
sprinkle droplets
down the valley,
spread flight,
spread news.
angel, light
feathery dust.

a very human pose

this angel sits
and waits patiently,
pondering her day-
waiting and looking.
the white,
flowing fabric
attracts my eye,
the way it folds
and falls
and casts shadows.
the wings embrace me
- i wonder -
can she really fly?
the halo shouts
of one of god's
precious creations
- holy and pure -
the white of the fabric
is also a symbol.
the way she sits
shows me patience,
being still.

"You have merely painted what is! Anyone can paint what is; the real secret is to paint what isn't."

-Oscar Mandel

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a caged bird sings

freedom? freedom? FREEDOM
a caged bird sings
longs for open air
wispy breeze, take me away
today
tomorrow,
pass the sorrow
to someone else
to wrestle
thoughts of freedom
despising the bars
of cages, wages
cannot proclaim
my life's importance
innocence taken,
mistaken into adulthood
i would,
i could,
but should i
conform
and grow up
for the life
of politics,
judgement,
restrictions
of the process,
tired of this
raw mess.

the march

mysteries spoken
through unkind words
mistaken and taken
as generalities
of a division
among the people
the need of rights,
to fight
for understanding,
obligation
outside the system
a longing for
revision
addition to our senses
erosion of our
free minds
caused by the stream
of conformists,
loyalists
to the down fall
of true human experience...
controlling, upholding laws
of worthlessness,
boringness...
freezing, framing us all
to perfect pictures,
'til the quake hits
the richters scale
of the masses
will come,
will form
into a storm of love,
changing,
rearranging
life as we know it...
sew it, grow it
keep the crops fertile,
fruitful, truthful
and the abundance
will gather,
lather up
dirty scum
and the drum
will play on
during the march.

our rights

politics, rolling rocks,
pop tarts,
cheese in a tube
brings glue
all glue,
sticky, sticky
mess
trapped, wrapped
packaged appealing,
wheeling,
dealing out
rights of freedom
in a dollar bill
'til we cannot
spill anymore
juice of our riches
switches flipped
counteracted
as attraction,
a need
a want
a deed,
a taunt
the way of life
given at cost
the way of strife...
i choose life.

we have to

lenses focused,
unfocused,
dirty and clean,
the seen and unseen,
falling
tripping
skipping
flipping -
climb and fall,
look and blink,
wink
to see changes
forward,
lenses -
falling
turning
new direction
spin
turn again
and again
and again ...
stop, go
stop, go -
up, down
back around
to every loop
hole found ...
then we go
to sound.
but, first we have
to see.

the big day

faces smiling
sincereness
secretly passed,
filtered through
handshakes, hugs,
kisses
the bliss
of marriage
promised by
all who were
once young ...
discernment in eyes
hint of silent
goodbyes
unspoken of,
unheard of,
but felt
heavily,
a goodbye
to a former life.

1:46am

blazing fire
tiny flames
of gas
warm our
half heated
bodies
sippin on
some lattes
feeding on
commodities
of living
this western
life.

1:44am

you sit and twit
every angle
every corner
toes propped
head back
fingers constantly
in motion
commotion
what's the notion
for the
madness?

our circle

beyond the outer circle,
into deep space
in a crevice in the concrete.
i will lie.
i will lie
waiting
to comfort your step,
a cushion for the bounce.
a leaf falls to the earth,
yet again to be made new,
recycled possibly
into one human's breath.
i live this life
for the mystery
and ....
hidden spaces, lost time.
the inner circle that beats.
the impulse that drives.
the patterns that are drawn.
and, of course,
for the flowers that bloom
and the fruit that ripens.

beauty, sit on my tongue for a moment,
to help lick the sweat off my lover's brow.

the truth

tunnel after bridge,
we travel at the speed of light,
spite the differences held in our heart.
we, on this journey,
want to see as simple as the day,
but mostly, we sleep through our ride.
we find specks of the gold and wipe them clean
or inhale them whole unknowingly.
we thank that gold later
for we did not know it was there,
becoming better for it, or rather now,
a completeness encircles us.
envisioning beyond our circumstances,
knowing through our uncertainties of understanding,
we seek to know the world
and see through our own eyes.
we allow the wind to carry us,
the universe to teach us,
our dreams to wake us.
and a time comes
that we truly see the world as it is,
our eyes wide opened, we absorb life.
we know we cannot understand
the secrets interlaced between
every second of time,
but we choose to still inhale,
swallow those specks of truth in front of us.
we are changed from it, but we don't know why.
we follow it, but we don't know how.
but we believe in it,
because we have to.

the melody will come later

fingers rapping, my melody too quick to come
to embrace this rhythm of flow
my flow, no meaning understood,
no closure in the stanzas,
unthinkable.
the thoughts go on,
the rhythm finds me in my sleep.
i wake humming the current of life's seasons,
rhythm of wind, consistency of rain
and light and warmth.
sleep in your rhythm, walk in your flow.
the melody will come later.

tomorrow's sanctuary

revolutionized through the eyes of the beholder,
beauty transforms itself into a body of truth
covered flesh.
dances wildly in the midst of the foreigner's land,
whispering movements of now's freedom
in tomorrow's sanctuary.
the masses of souls reach to the hand of the one,
complying with every choice that matters
of heaven's breach.
in choosing we become what we willed ten years ago,
closing our eyes, we see not past ourselves
but into the others' eternity.

create lines

peace arises
through slips
and smudges
of paint,
create lines
create space
and the taste
of air,
of long breath
inhales through
my skin
remembering
when
a second
passed by.

they said what

truth untold sings unto my eyes
it murmurs tenderly in movement,
in seconds at a time.
weary of promises
spouted like truth, truth told like lies
and bittersweet...
they
spring up like flowers,
and in the good months
they bloom.
like hope, like direction
dried up without delay
into
that days sunset
that days words
spoken too confidently
to know the truth,
but
beauty was
bountifully laid
upon my life
into my soul
into my house
love sits and warms
like a fire
on the coldest day
burns away, burns away,
burns away
leaving a finished warmth
that lasts forever.

trust

it dwells deep in my veins
sitting, waiting patiently
rising to bless me
rising the bless my people
striving to show the good way
showing the path traveled by few
directing my love, my sight
to see the glory
and the manifestation
of what is to come
tomorrow and forever.

victory

victoriously,
i was running
through the black mountains,
striving for that glimpse,
one glimpse
of the brilliant sky -
petals fluttering
down from heaven
upon my path -
the clean, crisp
motion of the wind
captures
the essence of this day
and i just sit,
and ponder
the movement of
each person gone by,
and what's whispering
down in their head
right now.

"I am for an art that takes its form from the lines of life itself, that twists and extends and accumulates and spits and drips, and is heavy and course and blunt and sweet and stupid as life itself."

- Claes Oldenburg, 1961

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earth's star

cover me
with your warmth
and shine through
when my eyes are shut
with that glorious glow
you encircle
as long as you
don't burn me
and scold me
for always wanting
to feel you
on my skin.

black umbrella

the black umbrella
mud on the boots
rain quiets the land
little prairie house,
you rest my soul
haven you have been
decades and decades

the kettle is ready
hot and warm
i sip it gently
i find you,
hunched
lifeless
we're old,
we die but
i wasn't ready
to say goodbye
life, airy but stale
evoked in the spirit
i am.

i sense the end
is near.
lovely,
i hope it's lovely.
love died,
you remembered.

i write

i write, because i write
because i write...
writing in lines,
waiting in moments
i tell of times, i speak of faces
i write their stories,
i dream of a memory untold
i write, because i write
because i write...
i see glimpses of sounds,
i hear tales in tastes,
i feel what i see,
i see what i feel
and i write in seconds
i write, because i write
in a lifetime
i write, because i write
because i write...

Flexibility is essential to take advantage of newly discovered relationships which may determine NEW responses!

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pebbles

virtually,
i've looked.
brown pebbles,
turned,
washed
by sand
grit
water
no stone
left unturned
wilted and worn
stashed on the bank.

reading books

out of the side
of your eye,
you think
you know
what resides
within.
the body posture,
sense of clothes,
reading one
from head to toe.
you've pinpointed
the line
my feet
have crossed,
singled me out
in one minute
lost.
you've judged
the book
by it's cover,
losing the chance
to know,
what's inside
to discover.

fill their bellies

the warmth of your body, the breath from your lips, the ground you travel. these moments packed into a life, the purpose evenly poised. what is suppose to come out. what message is to be sent. the image you for see as your own, possibly meant for others. sharing, giving, loving.

to not love is to withhold a power. to live without giving, what you love, to the world, is a lost cause. once you seek these moments out, the ones of giving, much else matters. the voice within speaks louder, listen, it demands. it says there's something to give. not taking, not shattering, not raveling - no binding or hidden. out in the open, the message you may not understand. a garden has been planted within, fruit, foliage arises and must be harvested for sharing. it will help to fill others up, fill their bellies with good taste.

cold as snow

lay over in mountains, cold as snow
the lips quiver, churning heat
from the two bit fire
warmth finding comfort on her skin
she lay in bed
window peering, nothing but white
glass frosted over with ice kisses
the sun sleeps now,
the winter lay in peace

no bluffing

temperamental and thoughtless
i lay my words out
on the table
forsaken by the meaning
that lay beneath my tongue
i try to bite it and
rise again to the surface
but ruthlessness serves me
up on a plate
its all laid out blindly
no folding or bluffing
the game goes on
and i
have no cards to show for it.

staring

grinding and ridiculous sidewalks
she walked on
lip protruding, bubbled over
as the thoughts provoked it out.
as if it created a balancing act
between the physical and
mental possibilities.
eyes fixated on the tree limb
swaying in the crisp sun,
slight wind breezed through.
something about it enticed
an idea
to plant roots and sprout bud.
so she thought.

a life of love

in the midst of all the chaos

through every emotion we encounter,

we envision her

our first sign of love in the world.

we see her smile

we remember her eyes

we feel her hands

but her heart,

her heart we live with forever.

it is the bounce in our step,

the secret ray of sunshine,

our beacon of hope

that we tuck away in our back pocket

and carry with us every step in our days.

one moment in time connects

our souls forever -

i part of you and you,

a part of me.

my first sign of love in the world,

my dear, beautiful mother.

wrapped my heart

return to me oh moment of bliss
that kiss shall enter my mind
of your divine touch
that sustained my soul
and led me out of blindness.
wrapped my heart in woven cloth
warm, it beats again.
the breath had entered my lungs
through my veins, the blood ran.
the memory of you, the spoken word
granted me love, centered and straight
awoke a beautiful woman in time
the token of spirit led me to light.

grace

beauty seeks not a place to rest,
but a place to plant it's grace.
an ever changing forest of seasons
hints to the power of differences.
and those places you say
you'd never go,
you will travel a hundred times.
and what you want to see,
you may never lay eyes on.

curiosity

drained, pulled, restrained
i am tied up to a system
pinned forever more
but gypsy thoughts live in me
curiosity cannot be killed,
whoever spoke of that cat?
delusional i say
the speaker was.
i want out.

cigs

livelihood today,
a journey i seek to rest.
placing footsteps
six feet under
lay in my head, at best.
to hold, i cannot let go
of the smoke
that be in my chest.

august

paralyzing but lovely
your words,
they stay with me.
tip toe across my tongue
they do
i am puzzled, split
smiling because of it.
a muse, you say
yes, good way
to express this union.

to be

urgency overwhelms
my blood

passion has been lit

ignited with looks

simple touches

i mostly sensed it

in your eyes

the body craves

but my soul

demands it

conversation mixed

with challenge

your beauty is so pure

it has melted me
and maybe because
of the unknown
i love it so much
daydreaming
constantly
of guiltless
unrestrained passion
that does not go out
but builds and
bonds us

speak up

freedom of speech is essential to our life. we speak, therefore we communicate our vision to the world. our speech is what unites us ... to understand and link us to our own kind. we shall never give this up, for the day we do, we will disconnect our pure human souls.

show your face

insatiable yearning
desire reaches me
sings to me like
the sweetest melody

and to understand
what goes on
beneath a surface
to live in a single moment
beckons me

calls upon me
ties me up into a bundle
until i am slowly unraveled by
the process of life

truth of the matter
it will be revealed

a monday

inspired by change, i wrap myself around the next corner. i weave my thoughts into the next thread, and stitch by stitch, i become the woman i will be.
i lay my visions into each new sunrise, only to start new ones again with each nightfall.
i whisper into the air, talking to a God i believe to be there.
listening, i wait.
and with each blink of my eye, i search for secrets, the infinite touches of what it is to be a woman,
what it is to be human.

i believe in the song

i believe in the song.

a passage of time
passage of rights
define the beginning
to an end.

but the genesis starts
in the moment of now
the end had just passed
and the wheel turns.

intensity, perplexity exists within our realms
existing so rarely,
evolving so tighly.

when i close my eyes

spirit swells
amongst unknown
visions.
people
i don't know,
places i've never seen.
circumstances
i can't follow
slow me
show me
feed me.
juice and berries all day.
ripened.
ready.

looms the sun

as blossoms bloom, looms the sun
sprouts the weeds and
comes the rain.
a tree grows.
it sits.
it grows.
a sun arises into our sight,
gently fades away,
night.
a pale circle,
soft light in a distance.
we see the coming
and going.

be in it

beauty lay before and enter it,
wisdom lay within and sit with it,
courage spouts with out and run after it,
peace is all around, be in it.

like a leaf

a shadow lay under
the fig of the tree.
a leaf fallen,
tossed in the wind.
separated from the branch
decomposed into the dirt,
soil washed with water.
back into the roots
of the tree,
slowly.

dwell

to play into the rhythms
of the universe
to see the folly of our ways

to feel lines move with air
and trees jump in the wind

to dive into the core, ready
available for anything

a channel open,
a river runs deep and wide
it supplies it's dwellers

let us find the channel for
energy of a great unknown
dwells within.

birthday

live, and give life.
breath, and give air.
love, and find truth.
dance, and give joy.
smile, and give hope.

most of all, be yourself
and give the world you.

think of LIFE

think of LIFE. focus in on the smallness, then work your way outwards. do not try to focus on the whole picture first. start with the smallest things. it will add up in due timing.

roots on earth

g-d at once,

i understand you

in a memory

i saw where you were

a faint tingling of your presence

sits around my body

memories of a road

i traveled to meet you

a large tree, dusty ground

the breeze was always just right

the shadows lay beautifully

somewhere in me

i remember your face

i again can hear your voice

although i cannot

roots on this earth were planted

fertilized and fertilized,

everything was sprouting

energy had begun

we began creating a life

we could not control

a set in motion, too fast to stop

the heat inspired verses produced

we always kept producing

things happened

they changed the meaning

and then lived by it

a spiritual awareness is here with us

we move too fast to notice

deliver me

deliver me from the journey of my own existence
for my eyes, they see the trouble
they see the roots underneath the earth.
deliver me to a road with less mountains
deliver me to cool water
let it wash away my face, clearly
pureness will surely be found.

for instance

per se
you say
i smirk
you snarl
i chat
you whirl
i turn
you toil
i mock
you spoil.

rose petals

rose petals
they blush my cheek
fragrance my hair
my eyes are instilled
with their softness
inhaling
i breath
exhaling
i see

a creative dream

I had read this awhile ago in a SARK book, quite a nice list to remind yourself of when you are at a crossroad.

something that pulls you, draws you in, causes GLEE!
something you think about with great relish, eagerness, quiet satisfaction or delight
something you would do for free
something you feel inspired to share
something that occupies your attention even while doing other work
something with it's own energy or momentum
something exciting to hear about or do
something free and available for everyone to experience
something unrelated to age or physical ability
being creative and making it real

People living their dreams are more JOY-ful and full of life.
Fresh thinking.
Doing and being what we LOVE is what we were born to do.

a gift

you cannot escape the knowledge
that was given to you early...
the thresholds that have slipped
through the fingertips,
or how many times the eyes have blinked,
the lungs have exhaled,
the words that have been heard
or the words you have spoken
or the visions that you've seen.

no escaping the timeline from decade to decade,
understanding comes now
and understanding comes later,
nor does it come in just the right moment
when you needed it.
it comes with the aftermath of choice,
every decision walked with.

knowledge coming too early
is almost a curse,
when living in flesh.
it binds you and wears you,
for you already know
what's around the bin.

the knowledge, the sight -
sleeps with you at night
gives you first glimpse in morning's
waking moments
walks in your footsteps
sits you with at lunch.
it stays forever and always comes
with help to grasp reality.

1,2,3 quickies

{1}
beauty,
the butterflies tap their wings
against a window pane,
looking for grass
to fly through,
petals to land on,
pollenate.

{2}
painting with rows
of random words -
one photo completes it.
will my talent go to
waste
or will i choose to
take it.

{3}
i think too much.
wheels turn.
emotion drains
absorbs into my skin
and bleeds out
my love.

out my window

the tender shoots bow down,
meet the earth
branch to soil
creates a habitat, a standing place
and a view,
pastures unravel and
lie down perfectly
in rows
behind it.

road trip to chicago

cars on fine lines, fat lines
speeding, swerving
and brakes go, wheels turn
wind brings pressure from the speed
intersection of paths

grids forming
energy moving
fueling the lives of citizens
going somewhere, always
going somewhere

diverging traffic, colors sweep by
four wheels and the ground
provide abilities
to perpetually move forward

divergence meets destination,
headed towards a highway.
_______________________________

   sensation sweeps the country side
   brought on, caused by
   restless motion, diverging our time
   for the need "to do"....
   go, go, go, go, go.

first impressions

the morning wakes
stirs my eyes to open
my feet to jump on floor
yawn, blink
breathe in the day's smell
yell to God
ask and ask

for you

yet you love me, you say goodbye
pulls my flesh close,
tears my walls apart ... the phone,
the writings, the secrets into my ear
are with me now as to lay beneath my skin...
can stretch, be torn and healed
feels the cold and cuddles
absorbs the heat and strips,
as to be woven within me
like each breath to my lungs.
feels the motion,
as to each sway in my hips.

grow

grown from the core of earth,
spring roots, sprout upward
ripe vines and cover ground
with green...
leaves shed, due winter's grace,
nipped away and
buried in the soil.

brown dirt, deep brown heritage
mixes with the red clay...
sturdy, strong
it will stain your feet
as you play,
pull weeds, bury roots,
grow
to plant life in your garden.

sugar and salt

ginger berries, eat them
fresh and ripe
wine with it,
sips and divine
chew upon the tenderness
taste some bitter sides,
sweets will grasp
thy tongue's love forever,
salt will stabilize.

cotton sways and lingers

circles, dots, spots
holes in the jeans
worn fabric, embroidered sleeves
silk sweeps the side
of the neck
hair tucked, turned into
a knot on top
of the crown...
and the bow's
folded, falls toward
the ground
the thread meshed, knitted
and woven close
encloses the body's
shoulders, waist and chest.

the body in motion, walks
wind catches pieces...
cotton sways and lingers.

say goodbye {a dedication}

time whispers of secrets,
the visions and
remembering of yesterday...

when thy heart was trampled upon,
eyes bleeding with pain.
memories to dark
to remember
the coming of light.
faded images still pierce
the motion
of those days,
footsteps trace of torture,
sleep with you at night.

let them all look away
say goodbye
to days passed,
all moments felt,
every cheek slapped.
at once, let go and grab freedom
by the wings.
let wind, let grace
carry you,
let beauty rise within.

broken wings have been
restored,
have rested
and waited all along...
to say goodbye,
to pains of past
and finally,
fly and use those wings.

balance

freedom folds a wing
under my toes ...
tightly grasped,
clenching my shoes
to feel balance,
securities passed in soles.

riverside

journey into translation,
you have forgotten a signal...
to hold, to let go
to reap, to sow
a vow once more, you led me
to a riverside of wealth
i spilled the truths,
scattered on the banks
they will glitter with light
pass by in the night.

i tell you once more
you have to ride
to find,
a truth,
a speck that glistens
with the light
circumstances will tell you
meaning in rhyme,
to the north, the south
spin your axis round
and rotate into the night.

i seek to find you, ride
until we meet,
your feet stay strong,
as i teach you
the meaning of a riverside.

pale rider

ride through,
ride on pale rider, ride
pass through the town,
journey over the bridge
   of fresh water
back to the fertile hills,
   crops to harvest,
where the cows feed heartily,
where the rain falls down
   the sun will dry
flowers will bloom, flowers
   will die
clouds pass over, the sky
   will stay blue
the animals will tell you
   the direction of where to

ride on pale rider, ride
   squeeze between the low valleys,
   pass over that mountain side.
there is a message waiting
when you come to the other side.

late night 2

manifestation at its fullest
  silk to my fingertips
   ink to my pen
rambled on, twisted in
   letting go once more
   of remembering when
at once i was child
   too fragile, maybe thin
   to entertain the visions
that started to build inside,
   within.
a journey grows long
   and thy feet still walk
burden upon burden, thy feet
   progress, dirt and heat
   have worn the soles.

late night

pursuing a bed, upon to rest
   i shut my eyes
   trinkles down, words
   into rhythms, rhymes
   fell into my mind

persistent in stability
   to think of instances,
   i can translate
   late thoughts into words
   mesh and mold
   sentences
securing a meaning in rhythm

words dance into the night
   resting upon my eyes
   pulling on shutters
   that close up at night
   dance on, dance on
   fill a page, to write

bring life to a moment gone
breathe life into the thoughts,
securing a space in time.

ideas - translate into visuals

the system of the world: the system of the usa. the system of life. the patterns. all the following - the conformity. waves of what is hot now. the shallowness. the materialistic viewpoint. the overeaters.

photo: church signs. the preachers. the congregation. their message. the dislike for other churches. the religion that has swallowed the world whole. blankets over eyes. religion vs. spiritually vs. God.

the needs. the wants. the inevitable transitions of life. death. beliefs. structures of beliefs. following that yellow brick road. the people. the interviews. the comparisons. rebellions.

the grid. revolution. truth.

relationships. pureness. interactions. speculations.

intensity. passion. motion. BEING.

prejudice. snobbery. class systems. rich vs the poor. rich vs middle glass.

memories. sight. sound. touch. smell. intuition.

portraits and the difference in characteristics within any tight given community. individuals vs. family vs. friends vs. the town vs. similar experiences vs. cultures

directions. goals. mistakes. choices. goals. blessings. grace. sexes. chances

nitty gritty

reaching out, my hands feel nothing.
nothing to hold, or grab, to put it in my pocket.
no pure dreams, pure visions of tomorrow.
more likely to fly by the seat of my pants.
there is substance, but no fine lines to my direction ...
or else, i cannot see it until i have passed.

visions of childhood appear.
thinking.
remembering how i used to dream
of what i wanted to be.
i can be anything, do anything -
is what i used to spout.
the world was my canvas
and i would fill it lusciously,
beautifully.

and now after time has past ...
situations and experiences have led me to now,
of who i am now.
and now i choose art. i choose creation of new things.
new thoughts.
i want to represent my culture and give it back.
make aware, teaching silently.

i choose to follow what i love to do -
what i love is creation
what i seek is expression, trueness, the truth.
i want to understand, therefore i am
who i am now.
theories surround me, encompass the every days
and my theories, they change the more i see.
i want to learn. my life is for learning.
i want to shake the system.

i am real,
the true, raw realness of my soul is unraveling
thread by thread, stitch by stitch unloosed.

i see the world at a new angle each day.
i hold questions about everything.
there's a need to challenge and be challenged,
to jump in the mud and get down
to the nitty gritty.
my hands shall be dirty and rough from working.
excavating the dirt.

i have lived

god hear my voice. i reach out to you for answers, for direction.
it is the only way. but where do we reach out to?
in this life i see and hear many definitions of you.
many have opinions of you and your rules and your way.
spread across the world,
there are doctrines and books and churches and temples and priests and ministers.
there are different languages, countless interpretations of holy text ... of your word.
they all speak of love.
they all speak of living a life that is right.
culture after culture sits in their own land
and dreams of you, searches for you.
lord, there are wars
being fought in your name ...
or is it really in the name of religion, of faith,
or mankind.
but in which of these cultures, which of these texts,
which of these interpretations do we follow,
do we believe.
can they all be of you, for you, with you.
where do you send your blessing.

can you ever look into your own eyes
and know what you see.
can a mirror tell the truth, a true reflection.
if it is not in the mirror where we see a true reflection of ourselves,
where can we see this,
where do we see a true and pure reflection of you lord.

do people believe,
the way they do
because of the culture they have lived
the people that raised them, with their beliefs
from repetition of values, morals, beliefs
ways of understanding this world,
ways of understanding god.
do we believe certain things about you god
from the things that have been passed down, generation after generation.
are not each culture's interpretations of life, of you
different, as well as each person's experience

why do a lot want to tell people the way to believe,
the way to see you and understand you in the life
can that person not trust their own experience, their own
connection with you.
why do some people insist of telling others what to think of you.
do you not speak clearly enough into the heart and soul of each life?

in my pocket

freedom enraptures my heart,
   tackles it, smears it with hope
entices me to outside obstacles
   of myself, and unleashes
it's pretty face
   like a faint ghost
in the distant wood,
can feel it there,
   standing in front of me
but no proof
i can't touch it or
put it in my pocket.

they will be

difference among them.
they have already moved in together.
already contemplating marriage in the fall.
we will see where it all goes.
i will work hard to try to understand
and let things be the way
they will be.
and love my parents even more.

up early

up early with the sun arising, casting rays of light on my yard. sun peeking through my windows. the dogs in the neighborhood have already started their daily adventures, pondering around in yards, sniffing who knows what in the grass.

plow

to dust, to earth, rain and shadows..

a light shines on, it shines high through the clouds.

rain down, soak up the earth, fertile land arise.

the farmers must work, the people must plow,

to continue for next generations.

after betrayal

watching "sylvia" 3

you stand, with the dark
shadows covering your face,
heart wrenching, tears
bursting... you want to
scream, you want to
stand in silence.
to forgive him,
will you?

or to stay free
with your own thoughts.
gray encircles your eyes,
darkness hangs over you
like clouds in a winter's storm.
you must go on,
you have to keep going.

do not seek death,
do not lie in the dark.
wake up, sylvia, stand up
and face this madness.

watching "sylvia" 2

burning,
strolling,
walking through
the avenue
i watch
i watch
i watch
to see them go, to come
i watch.
pitter, patter
movements of steps,
sway of bodies surround me.
i watch.

portray my love, that
sweetness in your eyes,
i see,
i see the secrets
that lie.
your bondage
enraptured,
strings to heavy
to cut.
i see,
i see the secrets
that lie.

watching "sylvia" 1

poor beauty, holds her head low
she writes and writes, til
writing no more
she thinks and thinks, til
climbing the wall.

oh of what to tell,
oh of what to say
the days are mirrors
on every side,
every glimpse, she'll recognize.

faintly remembers,
vaguely forgets.
poor beauty, holds her head low.

in the afternoon

tis was the day at once i led
  footsteps astray
my body pass, my body sit
  toward the empty doorway
i shall not go, i shall not stay
  but to this day
i'll arrive to play
  that fiddle once more
   and harp the strings
   to bring melody along the way.

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