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
           bull-shit-dramady-ain't-gettin-you-nowhere-
enzymatic goo
to your fingertips n eyelash ends,
tippy-toes
     and elbow bends
signalling an all-systems-go in
    5-4-3-2..........1
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
                   footpads,
and your boots are your
                                        heels.

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

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?"
         

Sailboats

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
go-
get-
her.
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
of
the ocean.

Poetree

 

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
kissing
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
consciousness,
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
being,
until they blast into sand gliding along your
surface,
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.

Stone

Nothing
Nothing
Nothing
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,
so
I’m
Going
To
Lick
This
Stone
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...
unglued.
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
come
again.

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
spilling.
pyramids lackluster
when our currency is no longer love,
and our lives' motives are simply how we can
become above each other
monetarily.

the outback crumbles to
desolation
in our earth family system,
when integrity swirls like a
dust storm,
it becomes complicated to
filter
the difference between this regime and
Hitlers',
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
or
down?

So my bucket list becomes this.
before I die,
I hope to witness
the flood,
a flood of money being washed away from OUR
consciousness,
the end of our entitled
self-righteousness,
the reclamation of the land,
the water,
the earth,
by the circles that inhibit,
sustain,
and create
birth,
the acknowledgement of the beloved in ourselves
and all who we
encounter,
the balance of the laws of
love,
humanity,
our purpose,
the higher selves we are after,
the apocalypse of shame,
hate,
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.

Excuse Me, Did You Lose a Destiny?

They waste. They waste spirit. They waste land. They waste words. They waste thoughts.
They waste the mother. They waste shots.
Shots like the Christianity injected in our veins.
Shots like the televisions invading our brains.
Shots like the only one we had.
To stand upon our land knee deep in the sweetest grass and
Look out on the horizon over the waves and water sheet of glass
Reflecting the reflection of our new history,
The one in which our mother was torn and we were ripped from her breast,
Where our lives became “lazy”
And we were forced to work without rest,
A reflection of a new world order of improving that which never needed improvement,
If you think mother needed roads and strip malls
Then you don’t deserve her gifts
If you can’t take care of her,
Then leave her as she sits
Take your liquid glass reflection back over that horizon
And all her true children will emerge from all that they’ve been disguised in
And they’ll pray healing prayers
And dance healing songs
(with death culture gone it shouldn’t be long..)
Cuz you see,
I don’t know who manifest was
But he isn’t me,
and I’m glad
cuz he had one fucked up destiny.

you? me? you? me? (an ode to my 20's)

in the absence of the sane,
you pulled together the sinewy pieces of ligaments and figments
smoothed out the creases of ignorance and incidents
supplied reason when the synapses weren't firing on all cylinders,
kept the mania to a minimal while trudging through the seasons
and lit the fire when it was low on tinder.

the explosions of creation went turning,
thought-pistons swinging wildly and unabashed
because you stoked the engines,
with mirth and glitter and love and sass,
and hilarity that is absolutely absolute
and unending,
all existing in your realm of this reality,
keeping me on the cloud-side of frailty,
away from doubt and having only one specialty,
a pied piper and a December of all trades,
making sure that the embers of my passion
stand resolute,
in the brightness
and the light,
making sure it never fades.

you? me? you? me? one of us is responsible for this,
this ferris wheel stretching the fibers of
this consciousness muscle,
keeping it fit but plenty,
expanding me in all directions
up, down, out and in,
and hurling me into my truest of selves,
allowing me to accept that the best thing that ever happened to me
thus far,
was the experience of my twenties.

Big Bad Wolf

the big bad wolf was tapping at my shack
 some weeks ago.
threatening the popsicle sticks and 
toothpicks,
haphazardly fostering the structural sanity of this shanty, 
breathing salty, humid breath upon the door,
rapping at my lack of construction,
my inability to create a sturdy foundation,
empty attempts to master creation
preschool paste and googly eyes gone all awry. 


I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow apart this entire town!
this town of uncertainty 
 unworthiness
and lies,
where you see yourself in a mirror-
but the mirror's a 
disguise,
other hats from dress up bins,
other hearts from sappy movies,
other ideas from external dreaming,
other myths from others doing,
other experiences from lives
you've never wanted to live,
if they take and they take,
and you give and you give,
then how,
little piggy
can you let anyone in?


I'll huff, and I'll puff until you shed that thick facade!
until you realize that your dreams 
are dreams worthy,
until you realize that you're not god,
until you see that your faults are not a weakness,
and your weakness is not being weak,
and the answers that you've came for 
are 
here,
and they are worthy of seeking,
you're not wasted breath,
and when your heart isn't singing 
then your soul isn't free,
and when you're mind isn't not listening,
then you're forgetting to breathe,
so listen up little piggy,
and overcome this fear,
 you chose to come on this trip,
you know why you're here,
walk that path with strong legs,
  wind those stairs with an open heart,
without seeing who you are,
you'll simply fall apart.


so pull out that passport
  and board that plane,
this existence is waiting 
and it won't wait in vain.


cuz we all have baggage baby,
it just depends if you carry it on with you
or check it into a cargo hold,
to be covered and tossed and forgotten 
until we reach a destination
where it will be bitter and cold,
I suggest you
keep it on your tray table,
in the upright but not locked position,
 so you can examine it,

 love it,

own it,

and
bring all your dreams to fruition.

Will Work For Food

there’s a frost on the edgy, cragged tips

of the crackled, inclement lips of sanity

   prompting me to slide my tongue across canyons of perilous weather to hydrate the

exsiccated existentialism- it's winding like a kitty tail against a cold window sill,

cloaking pretension and vanity,

vapid and driveling as the Sunday ads,

encouraging us to buy kool-aid for the soul- just add water and sugar for a smile

then turn left near the electronics and truck down by the music,

   go straight for a mile

until you pass the old woman on the right holding a “do not disturb” door knocker

   simultaneously a “will fuck for food” sign,

       (see she doesn’t understand, and probably never will,

that  while desperation can cling,

there’s a fine, fine, line

    between a wasp bite and a bee sting)

rip out the coupon in jagged fashion with your teeth  and cash it in with her,

    she takes all kinds,

         even if you have a fanny pack full,

she’ll pile them into her register,

organized by color, amount, size and expiration,

                      where she threads them and winds them on a giant electric company spool,

packed away in a canyon awaiting the day they are projected against epic, golden walls,

with first anger,

then

love,

acceptance,

and admiration.

Reykjsvik's Heart

palpitating cardamom
 and then some
       ice
churning for stylish sanity
burning below freezing in this upside-down-turned-love-story-calamity.
   you are my woodpecker
            keeping a queen of hearts locked in a facade of pharaoh's tomb-
golden and bright
   spirals reaching for the sky
 like the tippy tops of the limbs of the blazing birch you chirp and hammer on
your shifting azure gaze causing my regularly resolved self to yammer upon
silly notions
meaningful motions
glassy oceans
and
fiery emotions
until I can reach above
   all the etched obelisks of the world

some natural,
some not,
some frigid

some the hottest of hot.

and the only question left on the summit of my tongue is
     do you care if we are deaf-
to the noise
to the clamor
to the drama
to the glamor

as long as we're together?
   

The Highest Commitment

Should be yourself. Sound selfish? Egocentric? It's not. If you focused on everything you want to be and do  imagine for a moment how that ripple effect would go.

Sure, there are outside forces that combat us on a daily basis- most pertaining to the first tier of Maslow's Heirarchy of Needs for instance; (which I don't necessarily agree with, I often question what would happen if we could achieve it backwards somehow, as I think I've witnessed it on occasion). But regardless, if we make ourselves the highest commitment in our life, we are in turn making just that- THE highest commitment. To commit to taking care of our own selves and our own happiness, is the ultimate love. In loving yourself, you are loving to those around you. In accessing your purpose and needs- from physiological all the way to self-actualization, you are creating a space in which other people can grow.

You know when people say "she has commitment issues". Sure, of course. Most of us do. If you haven't committed to yourself, how can you ever possibly commit to another person? If your goals, desires, happiness aren't in line, you can never expect someone else to fill in the blanks for you. This is when enmeshment happens. When you don't know where you end and the other begins- and this goes for all types of relationships- friendships, lovers, work, family, even your relationship with substances.

I've watched myself through an outer lens lately- witnessing what happens when you commit to yourself. I recently accepted that I had been doing things for every person in my life except for myself, which oddly enough is a much more selfish act (as you are giving when you are not full, which in turn leads to a subconscious expectation for return) than when you make yourself first. I decided to sit down and commit to all the things I have wanted to finish in this life, and the results have been amazing. The universe may guide us, but it is not the guide. The universe has the map, but we essentially have the keys to this vehicle.

Please don't mistake me, I don't mean to never do for others, or even to not be selfless-just that in order to give genuinely, to be genuinely selfless, you have to have your own personal reserve full. So I challenge you to start with just one commitment, one way more important than a New Years Resolution. One that you will truly commit to for yourself. Because you are important. Because without you things would be different. Because if we all did this, I believe it is the only way to make true change.