restoration…

did you forsee it
boldly & brilliantly
it searing my flesh
as the rain cleared
as thunder & lightening
moved far into the distance
wide open cross country 
delivering what’s to come
what must certainly be relieved
I threw myself into the sun’s fire
a moment of tranquility  
consumed my soul
became my atmosphere
and suddenly I fell into the 
truth of restoration

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white flag…

An odd position
I’ve struck
I find the words
at times beyond my scope
some clearly a fascinating collage 
others deformed on precipices 
and I don’t want to NOT read them
but I don’t want to be beaten down
with them either
I’ve placed myself here
in this odd position
perhaps by reading out of context
and by responding to something 
I should never be concerned for
I just want to read 
I love to read 
I love the creativity of writers
I am moved by words
and the souls writing them
I just want to read peacefully
White flag flying…

intelligent complexities…

Do not presume 
to know my soul
My heart
My mind
as if you think your
Intellectual mind
Is intelligent 
in matters of “book” smart
many times lay contrary to thoughts
of the heart and soul…
we are beyond explainable 
more than tangible 
and far exceed rationale 
gathering information
comprehending it
and storing it in your brain
is smart
but we humans are more complex
We are not just singular
rather we posses a trinity…
and to understand without seeing
proof of something is another
form of intelligence 
and to feel unseen forces 
to listen intuitively is 
intelligent…
do not judge my entirety 
Or question my intellect
by what I choose to expose
in my writing
I am not everything
contained in my words
for words at times are limited
incapable of the description 
of the state of my mind
the layers of my heart
the age of my soul 
we are always intertwined 
with our mind (scientific & emotional)
with our spirit (known & unknown)
with our experiences (natural & nurturing)
and knowledge ( learned & learning)
we never stop evolving
being dominant in one part
of the triune does not make you more 
evolved especially when
you are lacking in other areas
we are imperfect
fallible
and while I may handle my
sorrow or loss badly
different from how you think I should 
my process 
my reasoning 
my substance 
is no less than yours

I don’t belong…

I don’t belong 
not there or here either…
Sure I write a few words
string together broken
bits and baubles
but it’s juvenile
generic
hardly fluid
missing depth
lacking substance
I’m questioning 
everything 
I’ve ever written…
painstakingly admit 
like in many other areas of 
my life I can’t quite
grasp extraordinary
like sand 
it slips through my fingers 
I shouldn’t be penning and pencilling 
I don’t belong here with them
not really…
not here
or there
or anywhere
so why am I here?
Why do I still bother?
I hold on to vapor…

Inside the beats…

I drift away 

inside the swelling beats

music flows

I bleed 

and inside thrive 

healing 

soothing

I feel alive 

bare my heart

undress my soul

full of intensified emotions

I am found

sensuously flourished

deeply lost among the sounds

some how 

I become formed

both as

visiting poet and 

beautiful muse