Sunday, August 14, 2016

Chaos... you lil stink.

Well, here's a clue that all is well...
looking down the wishing well of disillusion.

An old memory haunts me, me, my mom and grandma
sitting by an old well... wishing well actually, and
eating orange boat slices together, My first feeling of
anxiety and disillusion. Those two whom I loved so dearly
did not one another. It was a cold chilly feeling on a warm
sunny day. It was a day of quiet realization that love here
does have boundaries, and it is not free and warm and
nurturing. It is hard and survival skills count. My love
for these two icons of heredity were put to the test.

I looked into the well, and all i saw was darkness and an ancient watery hell.
The birds were chirping, the grass was green, and sweet
juice of orange was all i could seem, and enjoy. They could not connect.

Sad, for a young girl looking for a strong woman for a mentor.
Women bound by the spell of distemper. Humming like a rainbow.

She grew, and knew that the women of her past she would outgrow.
Genderless wonder for a while, just looking to be free. No labels,
no not for me. People meet and share and seek what they need.

Scarlet red, to violet night... colors stolen in the day of the light.

Really, X-men you stole the show, the slips are cowbells to the seeds that you sow on a sojourn to bring some more of the same, your whore of babylon knows
your name and your game.

I wink, and think... a funny dream can really stink... oh it's not cute,

but forgiveness is needed to the cowardly brute. He's really an unloved
Fauntleroy in disguise. I saw it with a goddess eyes, it's no surprise.

It's just chaos in disguise.

Tuesday, August 2, 2016

The scent of the senseless

Oh brother, what a bother
to know the intel of senseless lies.
I know, therefore I hide from the
scalene side. The eye's is a-watching
and a-learning in stride, I look, I see,
and I feel it inside... like the wake
in a tide.

A protest detesting, something or another,
the chanting and professing of the vile deeds
to another, or a brother, or whatever.
High on a perch like a fish out of water,
i hear the mayhem and feel the slaughter,
like a good little daughter.

White folk are protesting like black lives matter,
while a black soldier far from chants doesn't matter.
He's sleeping on the sidewalk in spite of the chatter.
The cameras were there and plenty of police, and some
sniper camos looking spooked in their creep.

Just another attempt to lure sheep from their sleep.

It was over before it began, activists shout to
the shatter of scam. The civil war was over, but it's
back in the hearts of some. It's a a battle of us versus them,
it will never be won. We are One.

Love isn't boastful and it need not be snide, it's inclusive
and quiet and in hearts it resides, no weapons or chants
will make it survive. It's children who act out the dreams
they are taught, and when all is said and done those
chants come to naught. Or so the blind man thought.

No snipers were needed, not black cladded cops, or posters of anger
from some white snappy chops of the media waiting for a story
to tell... it was over so fast and a no story for hell.

Love was waiting in the wings and saw the charade that this new world of order brings. Hope to love you to death, to the crease of your seams, schemes, seems.,,
.

Everyone dispersed so quickly it seemed, to carry on with their own unfulfilled
life and their own broken dreams. It's all OK or so it seems, for now... disaster averted... it's only a small chaos for now...

Sweet dreams!


Sunday, June 26, 2016

Shhh... here's a secret

I have a secret of a big, fat, lie
said the crazy wasp to a butterfly.

Just go with the flow or an eddy and find
in a plausible structure, rhythm and time.

Stay safe and stay stupid, I've stung you
and still... I will sting you again if you
speak of free will. Take a pill or a swill
and shut your mouth and be still. C'mon
behave like you mean it, you do know the drill.

Nooo, I know and I saw it and in that eddy
it's caught, yet the flow isn't easy unless
the mind is bought. Give it to whom? 
I'm aghast.  Humane humanity
doesn't need a blueprint.
If that's what is offered
take your unique life and sprint... fast!

The cloned spirit will always shoot first,
with no understanding necessary. Just following
orders to the tee. Psycho-psychlops at it's worst.

I tried to share the secret, but it's really hard,
between the good book and hard science
there are no flowers in my yard. I look to gentle
souls who dance and like themselves with glee,
and smile to think that they are one with me.

Unique and free.

But always there's a killjoy lurking in clouds
and others hiding with their dogmas in their ugly
fearsome shrouds... their ancestors should be proud
in their pinstriped suits. Ha! Kidding, Shaa. Gadzooks!

Shhhh, said the dearly departed... don't say those words too loud.

The yap in the yard is the bard to be
as a singing dancing mocking bird
high in a tree, that a blackbird doesn't see.

That bird is a me of the we ... shhh, it's free.


Wednesday, June 1, 2016

An Opera of Oprah-her

Oh the memory of a meme, cried out
as a voice on a screen, a curious meme...
I cried with the rest, I could not rest.

People just want validation, so it
seems, but guts are bursting in
a girdled dream. Ah-hum said the
humbug in a lonely dream.

Validation is winning at best, a noble
notion and an infinite jest. I read so
i past the test, still here, so i'll finish
a jaded... well... not the best.

The women are swarming as infinite spies,
with powerful humming of wantonly sighs,
the Goddess they mocked with their corporate
lies and gathered a fold in sheepish disguise.

The wolf lies in wait for the foolish demise.

The power that waits comes from innocent eyes.

The children are coming and they know what is what,
and they cannot be trusted to the what that is what,
a trussed up facade that is sacred here, is a trussed
up facade that falls deaf to the ear, your words
are not relevant here.

Do not talk of validation to me, it's a word and a
place that's not valid... see?

I see, said the blind mind. It's not relevant to me.


Friday, May 13, 2016

Living in a fishbowl

Oh the glory of being a fish with a wish,
glass boundaries and some food thrown in
for thought and sustenance... moving with the moon.

I thought that I was sovereign, never knew that the
contract I took was come due. Huh?  where is my
silver spoon?  I came as a humble volunteer,
to make Earth well and be of good cheer. A good egg.

Or so I thought, like many other dupes so long ago.
The human experiment is a place, I'd rather not know.

Too late, I came, I lived, I saw... (big sigh here),
Too livid and raw...  
on a half shell of living a perfectly synced up life,
a perfectly delightful and beautiful wife.

Oh now comes the humor, the joy of divine,
what I sought for myself wasn't nothing so fine.

I'm just a little goldfish that all
 could see...
except the delusion is that the joke is on me. i cry,
i laugh, then i'm proud to just be.

Blowing bubbles of breath,
i look out to see that those
bubbles of breath are the
bubbles of me. I'm here,
alive, and most perfectly free.

Sunday, April 17, 2016

dudes... missed it.

You skated in reckless abandon... no fear.
They sold you a pipe dream in a milky way
of rebellion... and the goddesses walked by,
dudes, you missed them in their golden bodies
and reckless felines ways...

i hate cats is what you said,

the cougar understood and watched
you pass your wet chance by
showing off your reckless passion
on a goofy foot 360 bored ollie
as they veered by your bravado.

The sun still shines in the eyes
of the unborn, rebellious as ever,
the show continues with, or without
you. Please just show up and skate
or saunter,

It is never too late.

Get outa your head... numbskull... laugh it off.

I heard the divas sanging
in the sanguine color of their youth
and they whispered in a laugh...
doesn't matter what you say or do
just be... record, watch, and parrot
the world, it is your's to live and share.

Numb scull has been listening to a voice
of doubt and defeat and fear of why, why,
did I come here? Sucky luck of all places
where you could still pay dues. I can, i will
my do doos. Damned, numbscull will have the
way as my rational brain looks on in dismay.

No more prayers to pray, i've gone astray
with make-up smeared, hair in a dis array.
Zeros and ones do not make my day, as they
once did. Healing is a cleaning of the mind,
numbskull finally admits it's time.

Frame that photo... a picture of now and
nowhere somehow. All good, the very
picture of should on my shoulder bare

not a worn out thought or a fucking care.

I don't belong but my gentle and fragile
heart does. She laughs, and sheds tears
on the path of no resistance, nothing
to show, nothing to hide... no anger past
or future pride.

Here is good, it's where i've been hiding
between the could and the should.