Walking around together,
I hope we walk the same.
Darkness will come,
in this dream and weather.
Is where I’ll dig my grave.
The breeze and twisters,
falling trees and flowers,
Rolling heaps of dried leaves
and broken brooms and rakes
walk behind me.
I hope we walk the same.
I thought you would be kinder.
In my dream, I watched you sleep,
Dreaming of me where I lived;
You watched me dream
of shadows and sounds,
their shapes and matter;
Won’t you wake me up?
If you dreamt of me,
I would spring to my feet
And pinch your shoulders.
I would think of you dreaming
So you would think of me
When I thought of you,
And your thought of me
would tap my shoulders
And send me out,
to wake you up.
But you see that my heart is ghost.
I thought you would be kinder
Yet, my care for you walks alone.
On her way back from dance practice, K comes across a recently made friend, S,
“Hi, what have you been up to?” S inquires of K as soon as they are within speaking distance.
“Not much,” replies K. “Just back from dance practice.” Continue reading “K runs into S”
What does it even mean?
It’s a thing you say just to keep them quiet.
It’s the thing you do to curb the uprising.
It’s a way you talk to hide the problem.
It’s the finger you raise to change the subject.
The thing you do to scale the protest.
The signs you don’t see,
It’s the meanings you don’t get.
You should take a break and see.
You should know before you rise,
The tools that cut you
were once under control.
A monochrome manifestation
of blood and blues,
orange and yellows,
curves and subtle triangles.
What can you love in times like these?
In my days,
The modest mind isn’t a mind;
It isn’t one sought for words;
It isn’t one with thoughts extolled.
In my days, the quiet mind isn’t a mind.
The humble one is invisible,
Unpraised and unsought;
In my days, the humble one is the fool.
And when words scream from reason;
When objections we invite,
we talk only for moments,
and hear our voices stutter.
In my days
we cry, we diffidents;
we seek rise from oppression;
Every same day, as our minds awake,
Rebellion sprouts one more measure.
Updated May 31.
I am not a dying star dear friend,
I am already gone.
Moved on from your gracious sight;
Tell them; yours and mine; tell them;
You are the special one and not I;
You are from heaven’s road,
My wings, weak orbits, bright shine;
Dying light from deep time afar;
Fading away, my glow in a while.
Shimmering light though comes from your heart.
Steady pulse, your halo is clear.
Your gifts, my planets, different times.
The people of the lands see us apart.
An angel and a star
Tonight we are;
I with swings and you with wings;
Destined to be what we are;
You and I tonight we are;
One angel in flight, one traveling light.
I lost heaven’s glance.
You stole merry’s smile.
I was simple and kind,
Feathers for heart,
Mother and father, single arts bind,
Spirit and thunder, changing laws ‘vide –
Now a wondering child disordered,
Seeking answers from yonder.
People with lies, heaven with shrouds –
The city is the truth, crowded with minds,
The disillusioned and the lights;
Thus I listen;
Indeed I might – Continue reading “Dusty Sky”
Photographs and painting outs;
Musics and writing downs;
All these arts that I am;
From the sounds of my heart;
To the views of my deepest dreams;
Beautiful that they are;
These I know.
Watch me do things weird;
As an artist, thinking different.
Consciously off the norm;
Making new things and things anew.
All these new creations;
I shall call them my own;
Proud as can be!
They were borne of my soul;
Each with a part of me.
Every lavender word;
Scratched off of my bones.
I let it be part of you;
As they are part of me.
To speak of lost friends,
To speak of lost laughs and broken promises and lost truths.
That I love you, that I need you, that I’ll be there for you.
That you are the only one; that we are best together;
That these are now lost to the times that we once knew,
That all I can do is remind you of these times that we once knew.
To speak of being alone without you,
To dream of your presence just to feel better.
To speak of how you listen when I talk,
How each time I see you, my breath feels renewed;
How these are now lost to the times that we once knew,
How all I can do is remind you of these times that we once knew,
And speak like I am fine and nothing was missed nor forgotten;
I may fall to the floor and crumble.
I don’t want to speak of you.
I don’t want to miss you.