Category: poetry

The Point

Slogging across dewy fields of tall grass she faltered 
searching through mossy swamps 
she got lost in the depths
of her own thoughts

She pierced herself on her own pointed arrow 
that she spent a good amount of her life staring at and sharpening 
with her mind

And she perished this way

And the world kept turning
and the grass continued to grow high 
and confuse those who wandered through it

This angered her
how could she not be the key to the grass and the swamp and the arrow
how could she spend her life dedicated to slogging through these fields
and sharpening this arrow 
when its point only directed her own path in the end

She was not the solution, she was only her solution
and this sorrowed her

She was missing something big
she had searched for that something big
until she perished and never found it
all the while not seeing that 
all she had to do was……

look up.

The grass isn’t meant to be sorted through…its meant to grow
There is no secret in the swamp
The arrow is not the way.

You are part of the path only if you look up
and see that you are not the only one walking it

look to the stars to see this
look to link souls with other beings to learn this
until you learn this
stop sharpening your arrow
and look up.

echo 1

Thin sticks walk through moonlight
a leaf rolls forward and backwards 
trying to sooth the wind
but the breeze is not yet ready for calm slumber

A motor rumbles into earshot in the distance 
it resonates and hums against the canyon walls

The girl hidden in the den 
punctuates this with her stammered silent echoes
her hollow sobs ask a question that nothing can answer

not the sticks or leaf
not the breeze
not the moon

Hallelujah

spit-song slit-sided journal entries
the word freedom but
   half past the bravery it takes to spell it
        and no where near the bravery it takes
                to say it 

courage is a mad man’s practice
   he drives right off the cliff
      because he isn’t afraid to fly

hallelujah is for the spiritually privileged 
  if you can spell it you are spirit rich
     if you can’t your evolved
 
if you can’t even see the word 
    you have achieved enlightenment 

a full stop breath with no words or writing

no sound 
   a breath with no sound…..

now that’s courage
and that’s freedom

hallelujah.

the upside down rat

the rat crawled slowly 
upside down

he hadn’t taken to his new stance  yet
but the world already looked altered
and promising 
in its slanted and
 lingering  perspective

subways and freight trains 
rumbled and shook his path
barreling overhead 
causing wavy lines to form
 in his brain and visions
but he would not be shaken
 off this new orbit

the rat crawled slowly upside down
and knew he would outlast the storm
and see a new way not yet discovered 
by rat or man

the goal is not to have one

dreaming without sleeping 
faltering she fell
and yet she flew 
and landed on a single petal

wind through her hair found 
blinders for her eyes
and  still she saw waves of madness
through the moonlight

the silence wasn’t really there
but she heard it 
with words on the tip of her tongue
never spoken

breeze high
crouch low
see far
and hear nothing

the hunter 1

come near 
and I will trip over some words 

a plaid promise that weaves in and out
of different colors
until the story is told

approach and wonder 
at the moonbeams falling through trees
which point like leafy fingers
to the stars

don’t cower in the shadows
you will never be able to hear
  syllables drip from my mouth 
and hit the soft ground
like thuds of paws running In strategic stealth

kneel closer so the scent of anticipation 
looms in the still night air between us
and heated hearts draw nearer and nearer still 

Now crouch as I circle and stalk you
you’ve never felt so hunted 
I’ve never felt so close
to the prey
that I never knew I wanted

the prey that drives my thirst
and without which I’m no hunter
just another lonely stalker
on a forgotten path
to the moon

The third step

the 3rd step was not the first step
but I took it anyway

slowly but with strong willed intention
my surefooted strength found solidity
not on rooted ground
but in a step
   on a stair
      not frequented

the tool chest was old 
that made the 3rd step
but the step was made well
and in a strong measured fashion

so I thanked the tool maker
 with my folded fingers
and took the 3rd step
which was not the first step
and found solid footing again