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.