3 million hearts (still throbbing),
somehow
recycled inside everything
at once
and also
managed to illuminate
form
last night.
Each textured fragment
of the hidden spirit
folding downwards.
Creasing.
Conceiving a machine
recording
low pitched sirens
from underneath
Why is it that when I'm in a silent dark room all alone
I'm always so calming?
It has no sound effects
No one to be scared of
Nothing to think about
No danger to be afraid of
Why is the dark so soothing?
It's nothingness speaks with no voice
It isn't there to tell you, you should change
It says you're ok
where you are
How you are
Who you are
Why is there no one there with you?
to keep you calm
To protect you from the noise of the busy people
It was fun when I thought about loving again
What a weird thought to start the day.
Like thinking about wine or champagne when you're still hung-over,
Or like thinking about that sitcom everybody but you hates.
Pain is a thing that people must face anyway,
I mean, isn't pain part of the package deal?
I remembered when she held me years ago
Her hands were as cold as uncooked cordon blu.
I think she was scared or maybe it was me
I dunno, I couldn't remember.
That was great.
Well, at least I held her hand
It even took me a bloody month.
Love is a dreadful concoction
It's amazing how people like to keep on drinking.
Soberiety comes like a stab to the side,
1969,
You young boy—
painting the depth of sails.
Shadows deep
with the knowledge
of a stroke.
The slow, and low moving white
Mist moved silently about the
Cold dark night.
The street lights showed dimly
In the thick fog,
This is natural beauty.
The morning sun arose and
Everything slowly dispersed,
Releasing the city from its cold and white embrace.
In Peace Memorial Park
I stare at the A-bomb dome,
sit on a bench in the dark
while pigeons roost in the ruins,
while a girl with ivory hands
plucks a koto’s strings;
somewhere beyond my hearing—
crystal, unbreakable things.
A single piece of paper
Lay still on the ground,
As cold as ice,
And as still as stone.
A single spark hits the paper,
And it bursts into flames.
Wood is stacked on top,
And it spreads.
Soon, the fire gets very large.
The smoke reaches the heavens,
And the red-hot hands
Reach for the sun.
i may be the product of my parents
a simple math equation
no variables needed
no extra steps needed
it's obvious the answer
i'm different
i'm the sister that's forgotten though
i might be a family member
but i'm different to them
my curvy figure
matching my curvy hair
my honey brown eyes with yellow rings
my freckles splattered across my body
i'm different
my skin is coated with different paint
not a color the same as anyone else's here
eyes
they hold the meaning to your feelings
each emotion played in the glazed over area
each emotion splattered across it like a HD tv
i'm not stupid
i know the truth
because all truth is hidden in plain sight
look someone in the eyes before taking their word
for they tell everything
lips
the holder of all lies
the untrustworthy thing stuck on your face
it brings pain
it hurts others
it hurts yourself
but it's all lies
I stare up at the sky and
I wonder if the snow gets tired of falling
Or if the rain is eager to run dry
At night I wonder if the stars get tired of shinning bright
And if they're like people
Holding onto broken thread
Struggling to hang on
But desperately wanting to fall
I wonder if the birds simply don't want to fly
And want to stay home
Somber and solemn
Till they get sick of being in their nests
I wonder if the sun struggles to rise
And is desperate to set
Or if the moon ever wishes to not been seen
I wonder if the leaves find it hard when autumn comes
beneath me there is ground
and above me there is sky
somedays im like the stars
& i find a place among the clouds
i make my home with the birds
and i look down from above
other days im on my back
a place called rock bottom
im one with the dirt
my feet rooted to the soil
but most days im right in the middle
where the ground meets the sky
and i become everything in between .
We move in a World full of Things and Beings:
A things we want, B things we avoid,
and C things dont matter, one way or another.
Our navigating system seeks out A,
flees or fights B, and knows C
only as background, the walls of our Maze.
When we open our eyes to C things,
the World is a river of wonder,
a source of endless amazement.