Golden Leaves Ocean
(under construction)
I walk through an ocean of gold leaves, trees in rows bend over my path as if they are taking a bow at their great masterpiece. Leaves below my small feet crunch with such a satisfying sound. The trees throw more raindrops to fill the ocean. while I walk, the sun pushes its rays through the canopy to make this salty water glow. The leaves are such a rich hue and I realize this is their final goodbye until their sleep.
The great green pines who stay awake all winter accept the leaves blowing to their branches as Christmas ornaments. The colors stand out from the deep green needles. Birds find shelter in here, using the leaves to block the wind.
This same wind makes rosy my cheeks, a hurricane of yellow blocks the view of my path. I twirl myself resembling a ballerina, joining their own performance. I laugh and smile as a madman, alone and odd in these woods. Hair a tangled mess, soil from the wet earth smudged against my cheeks, I do not care. I shall enjoy these magnificent creatures, treasure them, learn from them.
Deer cross my path as a herd with rough brown fur and black hooves. They jump as waves their backs arching with each leap, the leaves jumping up with the hooves in the sky as ocean foam. To only disappear into the wooded land of color.
I admire the squirrels picking up these leaves, this is a way to keep their babies warm. These leaves will get the privilege to be kissed by soft whiskers, cuddled by the young, bring more life to the world. I think to myself how amazing such a mundane thing could be so valuable to the living, as if water.
So many other animals present themselves as if the creatures lurking and playing in a coral reef. Foxes leap with dolphins' grace and energy. Birds portray themselves as the soaring tropical fish of the salty world. There are so many colors and sizes swimming in air, preforming a dance of their own. Giant black bears stumble through the gold water like a whale, while the shark-ish wolves stalk any movement. I see life in this woods; in this ocean of leaves.
I think to myself how amazing every creature keeps its balance in life.. A necessity as water to all. I dread the moment I shall leave this woods, but alas it must come.
There is a clearing to a small meadow. The pathway turns short and I exit these woods. I am to the end of the park. It is time to go home. Before I go I look back and see tree branches waving and I see this magic; nod goodbye. I shall never forget this great treasure.
As the oceans provides life, to both small and large creatures, these trees mimic them. The gift to view precious life and certain death, is a beautiful thing. It is both a necessity in order for the circle to continue on. Yet, we will all die. In our death God help us bring some good, some magic as these magnificent leaves do as their final fair well.
The cathedral
The cathedral. Sharp towers, grand circular windows. A giant engraved door of flowers. The family crest carved into the wall of the original owner. Stones and marble; gold and history make this magnificent beast. The cream colored marble is stained with the blood and sweat of the past, yet it is truly a beautiful spirit. The work has paid off.
Despite the formalities of the place, there is something eerie about it. The windows a bit too dark and warped, shadows cross about the rooms, and in general it just has a dark presence, yet its beauty as a black widow is great. It's unreal stature is so unfathomable that it appears to be a misleading holograph or giant post card, but it is not. It is all too real,
The cathedral is placed in a small circular Spanish plaza, a whale in a puddle. It watches on as citizens begin to emerge to enjoy the view. While the crowd greets one another as raindrops greet the ground, ghosts of the past dance and twirl to the music of the energy of their home. They are not seen but felt in an eerie and beautiful way. The women dressed in gowns and men also in formal attire moving along with the energetic scene under a canopy of stars, and as this happens the crowd sways to their own rhythm of life with the dead.
While the rhythm beats on, lights in the plaza for Christmas contrast the shadowed masterpiece at night. Small cabins in rows run along the stone pathway selling goods. They are littered with pine wreaths, glowing lights, toy trains, smells of nutty food and more. The crowd has formed full force and they are overjoyed to be apart of this place and proud of their home.
The adults elders and children laugh together as smiles shine as lights themselves. There is a small red and green train that circles the busy plaza for the children. It makes a low rumble, relaxing white noise with the sounds of joy here.
Surrounding the circular plaza stores encase Christmas views as wild deer fly across windows, angels grace our presence, and Santa chuckles behind sparkling snowflakes,
As the windows present the shining flakes of snow, real small snowflakes begin to fall from the frigid sky. They fall in zigzags down to the earth. They have perfect distinct patterns of their own, looking like glass spiderwebs. The people enjoy the view as the flakes land on their scarves, warm coats, and gloves.
Small cafes are loud and jolly, they are open for everyone to get out of the crispy cold weather and enjoy tea while watching the events out of windows. A chipped mug warms the hands and rosy cheeks thaw out to a normal color once more.
On the edges of the windows is frost in lacy white patterns as if creating a frame for the window. The lace seems to glow as it is emphasized by the black night sky. The cathedral is too massive to be framed by this lace itself but stands as though the window was meant for it to gaze in.
In time, there is nothing to see out these windows. The lights are turned off, wreaths taken down, the train makes its' last run. The people head home to sleep, smiling at the memories they have made. They are not sad to lose this special place because they know that tomorrow this show will all begin again for them.
As the crowd slowly fades away, the giant cathedral watches. The angels carved in the stone mock the people with grimaces and smirks, kings of the past stand tall, and the ghosts return to their home. Yet, on and on this uncanny piece of art lurks; watches. Despite, the oddities, the cathedral crowns this magic as it’s own, as it’s pride. It can not wait for the next night when the festivies will begin all over again.
Dogs
I just found dog hair in my lemonade. I do not get disgruntled.
Dogs offer much positivity; protection, a being to nurture, and understand myself. Licking tears away.
Run through the grass and remind of the simple joys, a small stick is a great and wondrous victory for dogs. Prancing and rolling around to show off their grand treasure.
My dogs with their deep knowing golden brown eyes would die for another treacherous human like I.
A cool wind wisps by over the water. I pull out the small white hair.
I do not mind dog hair in my lemonade.
Flowers dead pluck
Pluck the dead flowers away. So easy, yet makes very many queasy. Pluck away the sins and the ugliness of itself, this does not require any stealth. Allow new space to grow, enjoy more space to flow. The dull and brown design should behold no more time. Cast this burden away and allow the green steam to stay. Wait for time to heal when the luscious soft red petal grows forth, it will all be real. The reality of this compatibility is thrilling yet one must be willing to pluck the dead flowers away.
The murderer
Paint my soul black to get my way. Deal with the devil I wish him to stay. Murder and steal my eyes grow dark, drugs and felonies I make in the park. My soul is soiled and my mind painted jet black. My brain and my spirit is what I do lack. I want control, it takes a toll. I want to punish you to make myself new. Dripping blood, dripping sins come out, “give me your money” as I shout. I am gone, I am gone, and in an endless tunnel of black and my dear my dear I can never turn back.
I see you.
And it is not meant as if I’m gazing upon you.
Meaning, I see your hopes, dreams, drive.
Meaning, I see the tears, the blood, and the ink of regret.
Meaning, I see the emotions, the love, and the ladder.
Meaning, I see your lowest, and your sky highest.
Meaning, I see you inside out, backwards, sideways, upside down, birds’ eye view, whatever else.
Meaning, just know that I see you.
Firefly
Firefly firefly dancer of the cold black night. Light so bright twinkling among the cold stars. They the precious land stars of ours.
The wind shall blow them away, face the wrath of a hot or cold day.
Become captured by a child, they live for just little while.
But every night wait until dusk after and they will fill the night with laughter.
For they dance and twirl every night to everything beautiful or hideous despite.
Firefly firefly dancer of the cold black night, light so bright, twinkling among the stars, they are so gorgeous land stars of ours.
Long live the fireflies.
Run merry cherries
Run with me, my dear and we shall be merry, your smile as sweet as silver red cherries.
Take my necklace and I shall make yours mine, this token of our great time. For time does not last so they say, but we will love until our very last day.
Let us run through the meadow soft with great flowers, your eyes so bold your love a great power.
Let us climb tall trees and look at God up above, here we will make official our love. Sweet air fills nostrils as our feet hit the ground, evening strikes and crickets sound. The musicians chirp on as if playing their last stance, then the fireflies begin to gracefully dance. Under the moon we sway to this band, then head home hand in hand.
I love you dear this you must know as of this day our love will constantly grow. I will watch your body wrinkle and you mine, yet I will always find you simply divine. Time is cruel and a beautiful thing but after winter always comes spring. My soul is forever entangled with your own. Do not worry my dear, on earth or heaven you will NEVER be alone.
The Game
The fans who stay at the very last minute of a doomed game are the ones most loyal to their team. Waiting with a thin thread of hope yet deep it is know that no such thing will occur. So they cheer until the last minute yet outside the stadium they will join the lesser once more in the streets. In an army walk down the city streets.
The Adventure
We newborn colored wings of silk and dust.
Sweep to a foreign land.
Not to return, but in some time shall stand.
Suffocating is this foreign air.
Yet at the same time so crisp and fair.
An adventure in this running time
Light tricks the eyes, there is no rhyme.
Yet we are scared.
Yet we are young.
Yet we are happy.
Take heed for this is our great adventure.
At least that is what we are told.
Rid on broncos, ride on.
Horse Hooves Sweat
Climb up to mount the beast. A whoosh upon the air legs spread landing to unite, jeans upon a breathing boulder. Dark brown flesh, dark midnight mane catching the sun's shadows below strong muscles protruding, a leather saddle strapped around the thick body, a sucking fish on a whale.
Walk and feel the bond begin, brilliantly, so high up. Dependent on this beast to not kick to the stars;buck to the sky, but to allow my own timid muscles to be the leader and he the obey-er.
With a tap and squeeze we walk. A slow motion of limbs upon limbs, side to side. Right step, left step. Repeat, Repeat as rain drops cruising upon a window.
With a kick and click he begins to trot. A bouncing motion, the smell of the leather flied off the saddle as the mists of the sharp mountains presents itself in a thin cloud. The bells of Shepard's sheep ring on in a distant green pasture.
A sudden burst of bravery; a lightning strike, a strong kick, a brilliant force of energy and a gallop begins. Waves upon giant waves of two bodies man and beast become one being in a strong motion.
Air sweeps the face in brisk bursts with the ocean waves rolling and rolling on. A dip, a rush up. Repeat. Repeat. Loose with the body. The straw black hair of my horse flies back, tail trailing, hooves clacking.
A loud neighing and out of the corner of my eyes two white horses in brilliant elegance run alongside in excitement as the stone mountains sing. Although distant is the wooden pasture we gallop as a single herd until the fences bond their hooves.
After some time our bodies tremble. We grow tired. Rain lightly pings and the stench of the earth greets our heaving nostrils. A pull on the reins and walk we must. One body, two hearts. Sweat upon the body shimmers and we head to a nearby river. Mountain water slowly and easily rolls by.
With a heave and dismount we drink. Bees hum a song, frogs burp in our presence as in the cold water the fish lazily lay upon the rocks.
I stare in the eyes of my other, of my strength, his deep brown eyes stare back. What a powerful thing indeed.
Swims
Swims in the evening; the sun's farewell staining the cool water.
Moon awakening.
'Dive underwater; the boats of above can be heard in a hum of vibrations.
'Drunken voices carrying over the water.
Words
My words shall twirl to the ears, dance to the eyes.
Everyday a robin learns, then flies.
A day may come when goodbyes we must say.
Just know my beats of ink; my words, will always stay.
Beast, You, Within
There is a beast within you. I am not sure what it is to be exact but it haunts my dreams.
Evil and cackling, my brain is trembling and cold upon these words, I do not sleep long, I do not sleep.
I am not sure of its eyes, there is no soul to seek, it is a night's fear, nothing clear, as your own tainted eyes.
Something it treads on, perhaps your back? I am afraid. There is no exact world. It is it's own. Even the moon shudders.
Perhaps I must not say more to preserve my eyes. Cursed! I beg for the safety of a mother. I fear I am its plan as this man certainly is. Oh my, it is chaos, it is death, it is eternal, a bloodless fight. It is myself. Depression the damned begone!
Day Presented Soul
And then the day presented.
A soul bursting in a jar. Glass too hot, unable to breathe. To move. To see.
And then the day presented.
Shattered glass upon the cool grass. A honey soaked breeze, a light twirling beyond the shaded trees.
Dream Catcher
Dream catcher, catch my dreams
Catch my secrets, catch my screams
Know my fears as you know the stars in cold light.
Dream catcher seek my dreams tonight.
Fabric of soft twine intertwined in itself, create me a mind of good health
Beads of deep colors radiate back good light. Think of me as I bid thee goodnight.
The Night Light
The day has been rough
it is time to play now
the day has been tough
it is time to let go
Fire roaring through the night
The beasts watch from the trees as I dance like a mad man
To catch my shadow, I fight! I fight!
For life has torn my spirit away
I shout and hoot to the mooned sky
I swear she smiles back
The bats in excitement begin to fly.
I twirl to the beat of their wings
"Life come to me!" says I arms outstretched to greet.
Stars twinkle light as their own beings
I smile as I twirl, heat on my cheeks.
I stomp on the ground around my fire
Body loosens passion returning
Myself is what I truly desire
I laugh to the shadows of the inked woods
I dance until the sun rises, which I do admire
The sky's cut of golden blood is magnificent
It is time to rest it is time to sleep
muscles ache from the night
I do not cry of forsakenly weep
For my spirit has returned and before it had burned
To ash is my fire, my eyes do tire
I look up and smile to myself
The owls hoot in such great stealth
To my life: I am ready! I am ready!
Home Dogs Dearest
My dearest house. Grey clothed bindings, windowed castle to myself.
Yard of reaching and bending trees to God, I know.
I am home.
I see my lake of stained colored rays.
I know wine glasses are shinning and full inside.
My dark haired, dark eyed lover awaits.
Smiling family will greet myself as I return from my oddessy
I have come home.
Chimes singing, pushed by lady wind.
Birds twirling upon the sky as the squirrels chuckle by the bird feeder.
Seeds falling from their chubby mouths.
I am home
Inside I know the fireplace is roaring, Christmas tree glaring in sparkles, my angel smiles.
There's decorations of the king upon the mantle.
Twined ornaments upon the shelves.
A half completed puzzle upon a circular wooden table.
I have come home.
Car door slams shut. I walk towards the warm red door of my palace.
Dogs joyfully free running upon the grass stop. Heads perked in wonder.
Then race to my side in utter chaos to lick my face.
I twist the door knob.
I have returned. I will not leave. I am home.
Shadow
The dark shadow kissed my cheek, taking a bit of my spirit as he left to the home of the damned of the wicked.
I am a sinking anchor to the depths of the cold sea, water closing around my body, my mind. A kiss and my heart beats a sob. He leaves back to the damned to the wicked.
I am a chained body behind a moving car screech in a bloody gutteral noise, my soul burning in pieces. Holes open as if from a torn cloth eaten my bugs.
The shadow watches in glee. There is so little. A drop in an ocean, it seems meaningless. A single ant does not matter when it dies. Unknown.
The bruised black ink ,unseen but by myself and him, contrasts my pale skin.
Nobody knows, nobody knows. Hello Shadow. Nobody knows.
MOUSE
A squealing head heavy girl comes running begging for aid. Attention seeker twittle twattling to others about the “trauma” she faced. With a roll of my pupils I ask her what it is this time. Her full lips give a sly smile and her perfectly manicured hand points in the distance to a thick grassy mound by a lullaby creek.
I walk in the direction of the silver creek as this actress can be heard singing her drama to a now small crowd further back. My feet walk upon the soft earth as lungs expand and contract as whales releasing water from their spouts. My blood, excited with oxygen, swim throughout my body, delivering life. Such a simple thing, staying alive.
With a trembling hand I reach out to a small half termite eaten log. The patterns of the little teeth of the bugs create a hieroglyphic type pattern upon the soft wood. This is where she said I would find “it”. I lift up the light piece of wood.
Eight mice in a nest of skinny twine and grasses sleep together pure white as cotton, ears sweet pink. Yet one is different. Twitching and wheezing a mouse miraculously mobile is stained with a deep red.
An enemy has cut a deep hole in the back. The flesh gone spine exposed as a sharp fish swimming in crimson. A final sleep inevitable yet how long until it may finally rest? Hours perhaps until God’s mercy arrives to this nest?
With a steady heart there is something I may do as a flower will ease into a bloom. I caress this small creature in my hand, it’s whiskers tickling my skin cells. Tiny feet kick my fingers in protest and pain. I place this being on a harder patch of dry dirt next to a daffodil, and with a rock bash his head in, creating a small crunch as the cold stone makes impact upon its skull. Silence.
The air tastes of pollen and wildflowers. The sparrows continue to call to one another, as the other children can be heard laughing in the distance. They have moved on to play a game of tag.
Surely there is blood on my hands. I take the now disfigured creature of death and place him in a small hole next to is nest. I bury him in the cool earth and say a small prayer. Asking God for forgiveness I whisper, “I am sorry I took its life away, but I think you may have forgotten it”
I am not sure if I have sinned. Mother would be horrified if she knew, Father would suggest counseling. Teachers would give me dry looks as friends would refuse to touch me. A freak of a child I have chosen to be, yet a bubble of pride leaks into my soul. I know nothing about what any of this means but what I do know is that this mouse is no longer wheezing.