Monday, October 4, 2010

Barefoot Freedom

Feathered fingers will set me free
Free from the world
Free from the Word.
Fluttering feet placed above the air,
Care free my heart will be,
Remaining here in this beautiful space
manifesting a permanent smile on my face.

Pacing with the pebbles,
My bare feet find the freedom,
Liberty from leather.
Extending my mind to the extent of it's tether.

Infinite and bright is my mind's sight.
Insight from the inside
Captivating that boisterous light.

This indestructible soul of mine
Floating through my magnificent mind.
Through my comely eyes.
I'll radiate that luminous light
Reflecting into the hours ahead,
Leaving a trail for others to find.

Find my footprint,
I'll leave my imprint
On this infinite life.
Liberate the this world
Set free the power of the word.
Find the Barefoot Freedom beyond this Earth.

Friday, July 30, 2010

Riverbed Cheeks

Blinded by the riverbeds mapped so neatly across my face;

I pier through cracks of tear-stained sediment to the rose-filled, mahogany vase.

Trimmed thorny stems… tied with a ribbon made of lace.

Defiance is their defense and to prick is their intent, with their bristly embrace.

Needle sharp noses held so high without a care.

An internal vessel broken by their painful glance and snub, detached glare.

Too distressing to remember, with their causes of despair;

Yet too beautiful to forget, for their prized red pedal affair.

Saturday, July 24, 2010

Prison Skin

Quiet somber metronome,

Daunting and haunting the tunnels beneath my skin

Consistently keeping record of the drum beats

That I unnoticeably walk to the rhythm of.

The beat above… below.

Within and without the membrane coating.

The covering so claustrophobically weaved

Perceived as a house for this soul of mine,

A prison house that undermines.


I chisel from the inside,

Like and insect.

Chiseling at the core, so the crown will fall.

But why?

I should then simply crumble upon myself

Upon the hand that chisels.


Should I then relieve such tools from my firm grip

And meander amongst the fools with duller tools?

Who is the part of me to place my self on a pedestal above such fools?

For I am such by different means.


But maybe I’m mistaken,

I chisel at the core so the crown would live no more.

The crown of superiority, so hypocritically disguised

By my blind demise.


Fill the cracks of my chisel axe.

Roam through the tunnels, weaved and claustrophobic.

Like an insect, replenishing myself


Proudly placing myself on a higher pedestal,

Amongst the other powerful fools.

Friday, July 23, 2010

Prayers Once Ash

Feet have turned to miles,

I'm resisting the resistance,

but today my love's reluctant.

Words barley come, run blood run.

Run through my veins and through my thumb.

Let my thumb never push, never press, never force.

Prayers can coerce;

they're ash in my mouth as repetition i utter...

i stutter.

Their love as window shutters,

conditional and seasonal.

Is it reasonable?

The epidemic of ignorance and fear,

spread through blind eyes...

blind hands...

blind hearts.

Hard-boiled eyes cry and cry

as they're denied sight.

Cry, with hanging heads, yet spirits bright.

spirits bound by those hard-boiled eyes,

denied their public cries.

I close those eyes and open my heart

seeing clearly for the first time.

Following that source of sight.

...of life

...of light

It shines on me, on you,

on today. It shines onto tomorrow,

Let It Be.

There will be an answer.

Let It Be.

That hour of darkness, hour of ignorance,

yet more of light and truth,

shone through rays.

Let my hands raise, let my head raise...

Praise, Praise!

No five minutes of fame or glory to only one name!

Glory is mine, is yours.

Is his, is hers

Be heard... Be love

Run love run, through my veins and through my thumb,


through my humble prayerful tongue.

Puppet People

All these handsome girls and beautiful boys,
Made robots by masters with criminal ploys.

Catch Phrase conversations flow through puppetted tongues.
Strings control handshakes and careless nods, but not love.

Without their scripted day, they know not how to lead, only follow.
Speaking no further than typed play-by-plays, hearts seem hollow.
All these handsome girls and beautiful boys, blinded by string.
Let them sing!
Take your knife to their thread.
Let them tread.
They wont sink.

Reality ain't wooden, don't let your high help noses grow long,
I've been belting through the minutes; sing a song! Sing a song!

What To Be With Love

For Justin-

Time and space have come between,
Cracked the wild thing that we used to be.

But the energy extends across the state lines,
the soul connection that forever binds.

I may not be your future, and you may not be mine.
But mysterious it remains until we test time.

You're the one I think about when in search of refuge.
I'll be there to hold you, like a human cocoon.

One day you'll fly on and break that lovely seam,
It is then, my friend that I'll help you again and become your transparent wings.

I'll flutter at the speed of light to get you where you need to be,
And only ask that you think of me when you view the things I helped you see.

You can be anything and I'll be your skin or feather.
Together we'll push our minds to the utmost extent of their tether.

You're the one I think about when in search of refuge.
I'll be there to hold you, like a human cocoon.

One day you'll fly on and break that lovely seam,
It is then, my friend that I'll help you again and become your transparent wings

We'll find a map of the hive and be with the bees.

Together we can be the early bird and open a buffet of worms.
We will flourish in the cracks of light in this shadowed world.

We can perch ourselves on the birdbath of the neighbors yard.
Or, build a twiggy nest with all of our bird power.

Yes, we can be the butterfly that children try to capture.
We can be the bees that love and live for nature's sweet nectar.

We can be the bird that one man loves and another hates,
Or we can be Humans and use our love as an escape.

You're the one I think about when in search of refuge.
I'll be there to hold you, like a human cocoon.

One day you'll fly on and break that lovely seam,
It is then, my friend that I'll help you again and become your transparent wings

I'll always be by your side, or in your mind's vibrant eye.
Be my wings and help me fly.

Winter 2009

A Home Amongst The Curb

She considers resigning beneath the sod, where mother earth now bares her frozen tears.
Her habitual breath keeps time with the knocking of poverty's stern fist, a metronome unwanted.

Her spirits wane with the sun, an expected, painful phase of her broken crescent heart.
She spreads her tarp and patchwork quilt beneath the street lights and dead stars.

She prays by night that if she chance not to wake, then Christ the Lord her soul to take.
Each Dawn she wakes the cold world she had hoped to leave only hours before.

She folds her home and trudges along, each step longer than the last.
A coffee mug empty still, stretched forth to relieve passersby of the burden of their pocket-weight.

She considers resigning beneath the sod, but does not have the means to do so.


Summer 2010