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Let the sea flow and fool me,

let the skies tumble to the ground.

Let the starched earth squeeze me

as life screams out in all its sound.

Let my body be a vessel,

let my spirit be a guide.

Let me be,

entirely,

in all my misery,

for beauty too, here resides.

It’s a daunting idea to disappear.

To fold into the corners of a single sheet of paper.

To bed yourself beneath those midnight green vines,

and all those other places

where doors and shades

fulfill your illusions for safety.

It’s a daunting idea to disappear.

To lay covered in a world without eyes.

To discover

your unobserved

self.

To look beyond the mirror.

There’s anger masking your pain,

and there’s pain strangling your spirit.

And you wonder,

why am I doing this to myself?

It’s quite a daunting idea

to disappear,

until you hear,

the whisper from your heart,

silencing your fear.

Today,

I tried to change my face.

I felt as if I looked like my brother, covered in his lassitude.

Forging through some car alarms and a cellphone ring like a mockingbird

amusing himself in an alley after midnight,

I tried to carry on in conversation but it was no use.

I felt he could see me mocking, faking it out.

That he could sense my tell tale heart as he talked to me.

And perhaps it didn’t matter to him at all, he kept on talking nevertheless.

And perhaps he even thought I was listening.

But this idea had left me spinning

and suspended

upon a telephone wire. Off and alone.

And in my head.

It’s in my head,

that I look like him most.

It’s in our heads,

that we miss the chance

to dance

with a

moment.

Ripples

If, for a moment,

I lose myself,

it may look like stillness.

A flat-faced lake.

But just wait,

for a drop of rain

to change

everything.

This whale is floating,

water is so weird.

In all its beauty, it creates so many questions.

Too many for those of us that wish to remain

in the latter.

 

 

These whales swim on the surface like paintings covering the canvas of the ocean,

everything is flat but I’m right up against it.

The water escaping in explosion,

like liquid ladders to the clouds.

 

 

Imagine an internal image fully expressed.

How many words would it take?

How much time would be lost?

 

 

I’m just watching whales in the water.

Do you see? Over there,

to the left.

 

What do you see?

 

 

 

My cat has a disposition just like me.

All of my thoughts are born in the books I read.

And the tune I hum now, is a song I’ve heard before.

And old fights resurface as new world wars.

 

There stood before this land, an original man once,

but now we’re all just bastards, buried in a bunch.

Yes, we’re all just bastards, trying to learn how to lead,

but leading is the same now as following what we think we need.

 

This cat has a way of being so cautious with her love,

like the vital aversion of faith, that brings us closer to above.

Hovering Above

Heralding at the half mast,
Propagating another storm.
Living in the moments past,
Like a dead, still moving earthworm.
Just coming for the desert sand
and a fever that swirls with the wind.
Circles and clouds create a land,
Broken once, but now–in the air, amend.
My hands are dirty,
This earth creates such a mess.
The life of a man at thirty,
Holding on, in fading remembrance, of what he bless.
The fruits of the future hover above like stars,
Within, and without, like dreams they always are.

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