Tag: letting go

whiplash

whiplash from being pulled in all directions
reach out and retreat
rinse and repeat

my rollercoaster soul is trying to find true north 
while hanging upside down 
and looking sideways

center is a place I can find on a map
but not while swimming upstream
in turbulent waters
cold waters 
that numb my head and limbs
and cause me to breath 
to find my own thought patterns

somewhere in these scattered and disjointed thoughts 
is a path back to center
somewhere in the bottom of the river 
is the lever to stop the rollercoaster
or maybe it’s a lever to 
let the water finally 
flow through the dam

regulation and release
rinse and repeat
whiplash

after the storm part 1

If you want to fall off a cliff
It should because you jumped of your own
Free will
Not because you just weren’t looking

If you are going to drown out the rain with
 your thunder 
It should be because you have a truth to tell
A message of import to share
Not because you want to be the angriest and loudest soul around

And if you want to heal my heart
It should be because you love me
Not out of obligation
Or sensationalistic brilliance 

If you want to help me heal
Jump off the cliff with me
Be thunder with me
Pray for rain with me
And love me as you will
After the storm

counsel

counsel deep
counsel often
	ignore the scratching of the page mark and listen to the sounds of your heart
	the beats
	the patterns
	the silly laughs
	the edge of reason
	the quiet of fortitude and clarity
	
	ignore the noise of the hens pecking at the ground
	find your own nourishing noise and let that be all that feeds you
	
	ignore the mocking birds distracting you with a meaningless song
	you know what you want to sing
	sing it loud
	
	ignore the blank stares
	feel your own rhythms
	and know the solidity of the ground

Keep your own counsel

snipers

The perpendicularity of numbers and the washing of rice

If I were a snowflake where would I fall?

It’s like totally fulfilled and totally unfulfilled at the same time

It’s like croutons on Raisin Bran it make no sense that’s too much fiber

It’s like saving the last dance for the one who will never show up, it’s pointless

It’s like sharpening a pencil that already sharp, it’s wasted

It’s like finding the crayon after finishing the whole picture after looking for soo sooo long, it’s just a big fucking heartbreak

How do you kill my heart?

One bullet at a time baby.

At this point in my mind there is a man asking me for substance

At this point in my mind there is a woman screaming for the truth

A this point in my mind there is a whole religion forming

At this point in my mind

Life is unnecessary

At the point of a bullet not yet fired in a gun not yet made mama

At this point in my mind there is a sliver of hope, that my young parts cling to for dear life

At this point I find that sliver and name it, and give it a voice and a purpose but I’ve forgotten my own

At this point I give in and quit

And at the same time release the pain of the past

And start a new life full of hope and reason

At this point in my life I dismantle the gun and smelt it down to a heart shaped monument to the truth

To beauty

To hope

To hopeful reality

At this point a breath

And the agony of fear

That I might slip again and lose it all

To the sniper

At this point

In my life.

Lost in utopia

The lizard has lost its manners and is pulling a grumpy scowl across its face
The blue flower strays lackadaisically in the wind
Tall towers stroke the sky

We’ve lost our minds but we haven’t yet lost the universe

A half formed thought streaks across the sky in plaid letters
What do the letters say?
We don’t know.
We’ve lost our language and misplaced all our punctuation.
We flow through abstract sequences, colors bleeding into other colors.
Inanimate objects tell us what to think
Until…

We finally hit our head
feel our own blood run down our forehead
and wake up.

shattered owl

shattered owl why do you weep so sweetly
attend to your broken feathers 
that stick out like shards
waiting to cut
the next one to come near you

let your sorrow seep out slowly
not in a gust of words without mindfulness or compassion 
or without kind attention to the strength of their candor

concatenated tears can be beautiful prisms in the moonlight
once you see the beauty in them 
use their strength to heal your mournful yowl

there is strength in tears 
but 
pain does not need to be our proverb