sacred spot
Tag Archives: earth
mermaid dreams
logic
brown
my eyes are brown, did you know
mud-weary at this point and still brown
brown like the polyester pants I wore as a child
brown like the earth
honest and foot-affirming
when my large brown eyes were bigger than my little face
I learned to aim high for the heavens and shoot purposefully for the stars
sky-colored eyes and sunshine hair made perfect sense
perfect sense
every time I gazed in the mirror I wondered
do they know I’m aiming and shooting for things beyond my reach
with brown eyes and brown hair and brown polyester
I am not Rapunzel or Sleeping Beauty or Cinderella
damn these wrong colors
blue eyes I do not possess
plastic eyes in ocean colors, sold by the gross, shipped on palettes
will be fitted into gorgeous dolls with sunshine hair
it doesn’t matter to a brown-eyed face that ocean eyeballs are synthetic
in her little mind, these things are more real than her own tiny heartbeat
and so the brown-eyed child grows up
dreaming
for all of us to be loved for
“the content of our character”
and the pure color of our caring
Glodian/oil
MLK’s actual quote, “…by the content of their character.” (not our) – thank you
As a brown-eyed child growing up, I often felt this way
broken boned
how can I fix you
broken boned on the road
everyone rolling over you as if you never lived
my heart drops to the ground at the sight of your matted flesh
your silenced limbs
how can I bring you back to the living
a return to your beginning
to our time
we did have one
one of us leaped from the car
one of us drove too recklessly
now this accident of ours
when your body evaporates into the endless asphalt
and cruel west winds blow your dried wounds at the sky
my eyes will look to the heavens and dream
renewing life into dead memories
my bones are breaking from the inside
now I know how broken, broken can be
Harem Eyes
my dragon’s heart
there are too many tongues in my ears
everything mixing with the wrong fluids
an unclear complexion trapped beneath blemished hopes
we are stewing in emotional minefields
melting pots boiling over
the bodies stirring these battlefields are toxic flirts
where is the harmony earth leverages to sustain humanity
many gather, hoping sharpened tools don’t escalate
we perpetually run this gauntlet
crawling beneath wires and above clouds
the young need warmth
while we burn cold
I tread a plastic hamster wheel inside a discarded shipping box
but I am not a rat, at least not yet
not ready to leap like a lemming
or slumber like a bear
if I were a fire-breathing dragon
I’d ride those shimmering scales away to fantastic skies
but I don’t imagine escaping
I don’t imagine loving any less
my children are life-bound to this earth
a planet I introduced them to
my children are not shackles
they are my dragon’s heart
can you forgive me
if I forgive their children
though they despise you
will they forgive my flesh and blood
anywhere but down
how can I express myself honestly and still ring the hunchback’s bell
step into the sun with no collective gasp
hide truths in cobwebbed corners while yanking those thick hemp ropes
the ugliness in one’s heart is never to be plucked precisely off
an engorged wood tick on Samson’s skull, hidden deep in his glorious mane
efforts are like force feeding dying cattle, they will produce no more meat
no milk from the teats of their mothers, they lost footing long ago to rot
forget the suffering herds, they passed when the silos were abandoned
and there should be no cheap corn in their stomachs anyway
foreshadowing on the farm, just look at that rooster ’cause it ain’t pointin’ anywhere but down
this is in not a barometer of my particular emotional position
merely words floating in my head that I had to get out
skeleton stallion
knowledge
look there, there is a mountain with its rock sliced away to make room for the road snaking beside it
the path we are cruising across while passing by these mineral laser cuts
college winter break over and back in pursuit of a degree
to obtain a knowledgeable living beyond this education to pay for more roads to go more places and slice more rock
to learn how the mountain with its amended face, was not shaped overnight
to dissect human interest in the history behind this path and others like it
to comprehend the sheer number of minds invested to form things to this very point at this very moment
to appreciate the melding of learned people
some thanking the mountains
some thanking the machines
some thanking both
ultimately, for you to decide, through your knowledge
which sacrifices were worth this trip
this was a large wall mural I painted in my son’s room, long since painted over
horse characters from the 2002 animated film Spirit, Stallion of the Cimarron from DreamWorks Studio
“…a spectacular tale about discovering the true hero inside you…”
I need crap, but eyes can’t see it
I needed to see the stars this morning desperate to dream with my eyes open. The moon too, as I was being quite demanding. But neither moon or stars presented themselves to me. The sky was trampled beneath a mosh pit of cloud crap. I stood there disappointed and aggravated over these sky-high brighteners failing to lift me in my time of neediness. I grew pissed in fact, at the audacity of mother earth to disappoint one of her own good-natured tenants. I’m the guy trying to keep happy up, up, up, and I’m looking up, up, up at a shitty sky. Fuck, I don’t deserve this. I’m so wonderful and should have stars whenever I need them.
While sulking for a well-deserved miracle, my brilliant Dachshund speaks to me in the dark morning cold. No not really. Someone was talking though. She was saying how I don’t appreciate the stars enough to see them. The stars and moon are ever-present. They haven’t been vanquished, my vision has. My ability to see beauty on the floor when its trampled beneath a mosh pit of crap. I should close my eyes and see whatever it is I need to lift my spirits. No one, hell not even a brilliant Dachshund, can do this for me. Good as I force my heart to be, I am not that good. There are selfish thoughts brewing and I blow them out like candles on a cake I covet.
I stand in awkward silence, having just been berated by an old-school friend. I allow her voice clarity and give into the honesty of this truth. I don’t appreciate all that is. There is a gorgeousness about this place, past the mosh pit of crap. No one can take the stars or moon from my eyes. Or yours. I adore nasty Dachshund breath, even though I loathe it. Mojo is warm and sweet. We are all blessed with the brilliant night sky, regardless of what transpires daily below it. There is up and we need to focus our vision there.
Now I am happy. It is time to take my son to school. He is a driver-in-training so he’s behind the wheel. We are cruising by a student who’s walking to school. A football falls from his backpack but goes unnoticed by him. In my pleasant beautiful calm, I roll down the passenger window and call out to the boy. While doing this my anxious arm swings out, pointing to the football behind him. Here, my eyeglasses go flying out the window. My son pulls the car over at the first opportunity. I leap out and sprint to find my glasses flattened. Damn
And I thought my vision was cured after my morning epiphany. Sometimes what can you do, but suck it up, cry or chuckle.
features
I wrote this at 6 am but decided to post in the pm. I didn’t listen or watch live inauguration coverage. I read President Trump’s speech just awhile ago online. Next to last paragraph of his speech had an uncanny ring. Hmm, I wonder what it all means…😉
“And whether a child is born in the urban sprawl of Detroit or the windswept plains of Nebraska, they look up at the same night sky, they fill their heart with the same dreams and they are infused with the breath of life by the same Almighty Creator.”
Goodnight, Gracie…
why fix this broken machine
why fix this broken machine
the urgency in uplifting messages
broadcast with heavy hearts
misguided mobs leveling cruel ends
by hideous means
refusing to behave
as a beautiful homogeneous group
faith shaken to the core
our vast home, shriveling
wicked minds vexed by calculating brains
broad strokes of ignorance painting world murals
why fix this broken machine
pulling loads up the mountain
carts inundated with hopeless direction
greed, avarice, folly, sickness
wishing upon flesh stars
…still…
despite every sour moment
we suck into our spongy hearts
there is something undeniable
in the endless beauty of man
we are not machines
we are not broken
we fix the pieces that wear over time
we readjust the parts because we have the ability to do so
we restart the stops in the moments we catch our breath
we reignite the stalls when our brothers collapse upon themselves
we do not crush ourselves, over and over again
we reinvent
despite the few who dare to rip the road from beneath our feet
we continue walking up the mountain
there are those who choose to break
there are many who refuse to be broken
Dream Catcher
I wish you all a more hopeful, beautiful and peaceful New Year. Here’s to gentility, civility and warm embraces in 2017
am:)
xoxo
