Seeing is believing
And I believe she would
Brown Indian-giver eyes
She stares
The pen slips from my lips
As I lean in for a taste
The smell is wild
And I can sense it bitter
My gums fill up with sweat
And fluid

She grabbed my hand and took me to the river
To meet me with the water
To bring me to the giver
He comes and he takes me away
Every night
When the sun creeps down behind the willows
He rises from the stream and lifts me off my feet
We float above the earth
Lock lips and giving birth
Mosses in the wood
Fallen trees mark the path back home
We arrive
Wasted and gone
Exhausted

I lay my head to rest
And she lets me go

Labels: dream, love, nightmare, random, writing

He is speaking in webs and spiders
his prism eyes
view the world in butterflies
trapped up in a sea of phrases
the seagull flaps it's wings and talks back
now only he fights for breath and a bit of ground to stand on
resting his own weary head, he switches directions
and cancels all his plans
just to steal the bread from your hands
the ocean spray
kisses on your skin
as you open up your back porch
and let him in
on your geometric nightmare.

Labels: dream, nightmare, writing

This is the world
this is how the world looks
inside out and backwards as i lay
face down and wait for time to pass by
for the photon clock to tick
and the light year
to arrive
i wait.......
while the pen draws the paper black
i sift through thoughts and phrases in my head
words spill out my mouth in all directions
and i wonder if i could sit back
and just be
just
let me be the silent observer
and turn off my mouth switch
turn off my thought button
and revive my senses
resuscitate my being
this nervous tick

this nihilism

yet, over and over
i search
i am the wild goose chase
i am the treadmill
i am the spinning wheels
turning grain to dust

new life is nothing but a chance
to do with what you please
what pleases me
to be content
contentualism:
the less i expose myself
the less i open my mind
the easier it is to be content

i open up my eyes
on to an ocean of sight and revenue
stretching out for miles, changing colours
i reach out my arms for a little closure
breaking away
my reality feels like
a bad dream
a commitment is just that
you owe me
you will soon find out
and i turn over

Labels: content, dream, nihilism, Nothing, poem, writing