The Steps of Soil Formation

I’m stuck,

A stone thrown in my vocal river,

As a double-sided being with courses of cortisol and skin kissed with goat’s milk,

I never did get to know her until the skies were cleared of their wild whipped butter,

The insulation was warmly welcomed but eventually cooled off and became contradictory,

Freezing solid from the bottom up,

Life became static and limbs impossible to grow, so,

The Earth seemed to be punishing us,

But that effortless bright being was hard to shake,

And a force within kept flashing vascular visions,

A truth beyond the crowded streets,

Of noises, of beeps, of self-seeking creeps,

I wandered through grooves of polite patterns,

To pierce pomelo rind rigid with Saturn,

Seeds sown stiff now relaxed hieroglyphs,

Releasing sweet basil,

Paving routes with roots.

 

 

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Collective One

At home, in your zone,
Snuggling softly simply for joy,
Minute to minute,
Day to day, in the delicate presence of being.

A strong sense of self,
Wilting forward to dip into sunlight,
Forgetting voids of helplessness,
Out of control, appearing like death.

You sit there motionless,
To soak and nourish like cucumber,
Fresh and crisp, an easy beginning,
How cold is it to start again, you wonder.

The invisible visibly haunts those rigid,
Stiff hands grope desperately,
Injuring fellow travelers,
Why are they here too, you wonder.

Is Home

A tiny speck of dust,
Glinting, squinting –
Floating serenely  over the black fuzz that stretches into the mind’s eye,
Coating every inch of pathway with thought and wonder.

How might one meander such uncertainty?
Surely I cannot just plant one foot in front of the other so simply?
What if cartoon crocodiles climb out of the path and engulf my light?
If there were such things I may need to hibernate.

Finally I shall follow the dancing lint,
They are odd but they are also light among a dark horizon,
Full of lies but my eyes are tainted and prone to organize,
Not like yours that glimmer with a million futures.

Seven stepping-stones reach from home,
It’s not what you think and it’s not where I left,
I’ll be fine from here, you see that tree? I know it, I know my way now.
I’ve never been here but somehow I have.

Your “Simple” Suggestions

Your “simple” suggestions, as you like to call them, fall around me,
They drift softly to the ground and melt before my feet,
My aura illuminates the hostile home in which you hoped I’d freeze.
To death.

All was supposed:
That which cared for,
That which loved,
That which only was doing the best for.

Now I feel the ice crackling under my weight as I march into the night,
Staring at the wild wind whipping rouge,
The bright-eyed glimmer stealing full moon powers,
Gripping mittens release their hold,
Venturing further into the mystic,
Encountering an awe of both delight & peace.

The sticking snow reveals paths taken,
Of light & dark,
Love & pain,
Young & old.

But “simply” suggesting I know nothing shows the nothing you so simply desire,
For never have you sought to understand anything but what you hoped to find.

The Ease

I have nothing left but you still want more,

Those threats are as void as a black hole,

Rolling around, destroying with ease,

The place you find yourself in is one of misdeed,

You won’t find me there or anything of light,

The greed seeping with ease,

How easily you part waters, while others bleed,

No need to apologize your apology is coated in hate,

Growing up in a house built of fear & jealousy,

A tendency to bar out love,emotional-abuse.jpg

A cage, a cave, a windowless room,

It was so easy to raise us this way,

Don’t you see? I’m not a little girl anymore, I understand my pain,

Instead of blocking it out in the pouring rain,

I say let the rain pour, let the pouring rain in,

Please, little girl, I want to feel the world.