What funny things you’ll find in books
if only you would take a look.
I read it was a day of survival:
the fourth of October – numerically liable.
Dreamers and artists and poets are we all – alike.
I have my say to have my stay,
that’s what this is coming to, my kinsmen.
We are both kindling for and keepers of that fire.
This is a coming of age and a meeting of ends.
As our minds meld into the möbius,
don’t be dismayed that among us
you aren’t the only one
with profound words on your pretty lips,
ferociously fantastic portraits at your fingertips.
Find safety in painting by these numbers
and connecting all the dots to draw up brand-new
constellations for our ever-changing skies.
By sheer volume we will overtake and overcome,
filling the cracks and crevices with our immoral mortar,
every nook and cranny, all the crooks and nannies,
until the cups and crock-pots and cutlery and grannie’s good china
are full up to the brim and keep flowing,
going with total disrespectful disregard
for the dogmatic age-old tea-stained spiritual voo-doo.
You do you.
Then – they’ll have to start over again –
in darkness – for to it we shall have returned.
Take what you’ve learned into your next lifetime
and with that – what you are given then and there.
Here and now, here’s the how:
Be alive, survive, strive to stroll and saunder
along the scenic path,
stopping to smell roses,
embrace mountain ridges in morning dew,
monitor blades of grass as they grow on warm summer afternoons,
enjoying enlightening conversations with clouds
about the comings and goings of the wind,
but don’t forget to fall off the wagon to explore
the treacheries of hell and insanity,
enveloped in fever from ghastly wounds
procured by falling stars
whom were hung too precariously
in the night sky, serving their sentence
as severe sentient reminders
that this is what you make of it.
Enjoy the ride,
one foot in front of the other
leads to where you let it and let go.
There are too real currants to ignore,
as dipping you toes just goes to show.
Test the waters and you know.
Chaos begets resolution.
Resolution contributes to a new constitution.
Solution arrives through thoroughly analyzed connotations
from which the new nation of thought is wrought,
and it ought to include and indicate
something of the rate
at which gas prices inflate
or how long you date
before the particular pleasures of prudence give way
to simulations of sensuality for the success of our species.
Surely – there is to be more to this –
that – or you are new to the wish
that there’s no end in sight.
Spiteful of new beginnings
for which the wheel keeps on spinning
to place the planet back on square one
and see all ailments undone.
We become one with the sun,
scorching the sins of saint and savior,
savoring sinner’s souls.
It all grows from old into new light,
takes delight in these delicious new heights
of the view from my life.
This is the surface of my truth
in all it’s glorious contradictions and blight.
So many options and tunnels and tales
of turns and tribulations from the opinionated ones
have tainted my open-minded nature
and tortured me into this timid existence
of acceptance, love, and forgiveness.
I am forever grateful for that.
In fact, it is no trouble at all to stand here,
simple, soulful, and small.
We are given gifts and gain knowledge to use them,
though the discovery of what we have to offer
often involves the excavation of ourselves
out of our worldly, cumbersome shells.
One could wait forever poignantly,
teetering at the edge,
toying with the truth,
trying to acclimate to the temperatures and temperaments,
completely and totally aware and prepared
to turn back at a moment’s notice
without ever awakening to what is within.
Or, you could jump – sink or swim.
Lose, win, yang, yin,
beautiful souls with the most original sins say: