Friday, April 6, 2012

Houston: We Have A Problem

Systems Engage:
and not a shiny soul-mined
    compacted piece of carbon kind
but rather the crazy interlocking
synaptic mechanisms popping and locking
in janky timing
like and open-mic white kid emcee who hasn't mastered rhyming,
truckin' in cattleloads of
enzymatic goo
to your fingertips n eyelash ends,
     and elbow bends
signalling an all-systems-go in
blast off!
to beaten down weathered paths
   super-known territories
you, your shadow, your id (and your id's kid)
   and all your mental posse
revisiting a cyclical , ground hog day (ground hog day, ground hog day, ground hog day)
self-imposed purgatory,
dusting up          this              trail             until
    you could make teacups in your mouth with your tongue as the throwing wheel,

walking it so many times your moccasins are your
and your boots are your

etching at the strata creating a GOD DAMNED GRAND CANYON of repetitive dysfunction in your

until you marionette your head up,
check the position of venus and polaris
and realize you just. might. be.
   the very damn map maker who
 refuses to see that your world is round,
and  your world includes YOU!
your choices, your evolution,
                               and the sound
of your intronaut clicking the orange buttons, and radio-ing for clearance,

"Ego 1: request for drama to make an appearance?"

Tuesday, March 13, 2012


we are a fractal,
the cosmic dust co-mingling
double helix of lust
the softest hands pulsing gently on the small of our backs
the calmest and most intense thrusts
in the smallest waves of grandeur
this is bigger
than both of us

we are the tides,
the seaweed soul soup
the infinite infinity
a salty divine divinity
a perpetually cleansed refreshed and astounding loop.
the epics of epochs-
tossing beneath and above each other
our tongues
our bodies
our souls
our fingers
our locks

we are the rock,
we can be the most azure
or the least blue
as deep in the strata as I am
so are you
forming over eons
understanding beyond this realm
our ether eyes piercing
despite the power
neither of us are overwhelmed
I’ll take your hand
you take the helm
steer us through the stardust and dreamscape land
I’ll follow you on my tiptoes of delight
through the darkness and the sparkles
of the deepest, fiercest night

we are the sailboats my love.

Hold Her Together

water sparkling like my tongue stuck out in the midday sun bright,

you hold the sun and the trees and my gaze just right,
like that little thing you do that seems the stars have flipped, reversed, and tricked into reflecting
the brightness of night.

and speaking of the brightness of night-
how does she hold so much light?

water searching, water purging, water tasting, water wasting

my soul

with one quick blow to my head, making me realize that in all this beauty, I can't ever be dead.
In all this beauty my heart can pound like her force,
in all this beauty I could always feel worse,
but then I'd always feel better.
I ain't a sit-around-and-feel-sorry-for-herself-kinda-women,
my momma says I'm a
soul back from the depths of the ocean in which it has plunged,
and stich that nebula explosion with slits from the sun,
sew the sides up with fur from otters' back,

tighten the lose ends with strings of a million womens' songs,
adorn her with all of abalones' shimmer,
and pull her hair up with eagles' glimmer,
fill in the holes with
patches of earth,
and bind her together with all of the worth
the ocean.



I want to stuff poetry into your ears like cotton candy earplugs,
until it tumbles out like a kiddo gymnast
after my hearts' been cleaved open
revealing flurries of tornadoes of butterflies
your longest of lashes
and dusting my tongue
with the saccharine crack of our turn on this
ferris wheel.

I want to melt poetry like candle wax adn drip it down your spine,
tapping at each vertebrae
until it shudders with the figures
that embrace beyond the physical,
and a knowing warms like an elevator to the top floor of your
illuminating your smiles,
your eyes,
the sun.

I want to sling poetry through you like a pitchfork shattering the
toughest operatic wine glasses of your
until they blast into sand gliding along your
smoothly and gently,
filling every open crevice with the hymns of "hallelujah, this shit is awesome!"

I want to spoon feed you poetry until your poetic soul gathers strength,
crystal clear and shiny as Jesus' bowling ball on a hot summer day,
gliding down lanes of life
slamming into the strike of all strikes.

maybe you could be a turkey in this life- if baby,
you'd gamble just this once.


is ever set in stone
because as tough as granite is, it isn’t finite.
as solid as quartz seems, it isn’t unbending.
as impenetrable as marble conveys itself-
bullets of passion can pierce it,
knives of universal will can cut it,
ropes of past lives can etch
causing sand of millions of stars from our eyes to scatter
across millions of scars that are tattered
touching tree tops
dancing on wind gusts
and only stops
to start again.
this circle isn’t mine to draw,
and a line sure as shit isn’t my law,
And see what I can forge.

The Earth Is Sexy

the earth.... is sexy, you know?
the way warm breezes blow through soft canyons of buttery grass,
touching only the tips the way a tease would do,
and rifling the hair of it's golden lover,
as she's about
to become...
Holding it's sweetest breath an inch from her face,
and blowing out softly in an undulating,
rhythmic pace.

the earth... is sexxxxxy.
a cold river flowing icy and warm all at the same time,
churning beneath the surface
an emcee with the fiercest rhyme,
it's flow brimming with alliteration,
it's flow never suffering stagnation,
the roar deafening with passion and sighs,
the roar misty while sharp,
coalescing with the quietest of cries,
it's flow touching everything in perfect animation
and forcing through canyons
without the slightest hesitation.

the earth, it is a sexy, yah?
I mean, c'mon, it can breathe fire...
it has veins of all molten
writhing through the neck,
eyes of venom burning beneath the surface liquid brown with
greenish flecks,
stifling kisses along the darkest shadows,
plumes of heat rising off it's skin,
taunting curiosity because you just never know when it will

the earth... *sigh*... ohh, it's sexy.
it's skin has days when you breathe in and never want to breathe out,
drinking in cupfuls of alternating honey with ginger,
sweetgrass and lavender,
pine and cedar tinder,
salty lickable rocks,
the wafts of roses, coconut and wet moss seeping from her locks,
when you inhale you get drunker than an amber-suckled bee,
cadence upon cadence of silken spun trees,
rain on dry ground after a summer full of drought,
tasting sweeter neither on the inside,
or out.

the earth is damn sexy.

Bucket List

my bucket list has changed from
tangible experience
to heightened intelligence.
from kitschy places and sights
to shifts in our cultural relevance,
hang gliding no longer seems important
in comparison,
when the veins of the earth are
pyramids lackluster
when our currency is no longer love,
and our lives' motives are simply how we can
become above each other

the outback crumbles to
in our earth family system,
when integrity swirls like a
dust storm,
it becomes complicated to
the difference between this regime and
when our "freedom" is a fertilizer
for globalization to grow,
and lost in the sea of capitalism,
morality capsized,
how could we possibly ever know
which side is up

So my bucket list becomes this.
before I die,
I hope to witness
the flood,
a flood of money being washed away from OUR
the end of our entitled
the reclamation of the land,
the water,
the earth,
by the circles that inhibit,
and create
the acknowledgement of the beloved in ourselves
and all who we
the balance of the laws of
our purpose,
the higher selves we are after,
the apocalypse of shame,
jealousy and dominion,
the revolution of happiness and laughter,
the explosion of acceptance
pushing the end of apathy
to the edge.

because this,
this is everyONE's world,
and my bucket is big enough
for all of us.