What can I tell you that you don’t already know?
I could say I love you, I want you, or I need you
It means nothing until it wraps around you like a cold pool on a lemonade type of day.
It won’t grasp purchase until you swallow it like the Miracle Max chocolate covered prompter.
The message will fall into the void of space, heard by aliens billions of miles away while being mistranslated as, “You are god.”
I do love you as much as you allow.
I want you to be whatever leads to your bliss.
I need you to disregard my judgement while you flourish into your density, I mean destiny.
Quickly now. TICK! TOCK! Time is irrelevant when you can just BE.
Grand Haven, MI September 2015
When the rains came, she retreated to harbor for haven.
The umbrella outstretched in somber funereal black
Allowing the thundering winds while making water craven
to bleach the bearing bones of the burden laden back.
Because it is always okay (or will be), the sun returns
She is gone before dawn with nary a mark left graven
From the ancient predictions foreseen in the almanac
Her gypsy blood would eternally call her the sea maven
The depth of her affection, like the ocean, a partial amnesiac.
Posted in Human, Love, Notes to Self, Observations, Personal, Poetry, Relationships, Wild Woman Tagged artist, being human, comfort, compassion, human, humanity, love, poem, poetry, relationships, skittish, strength
Hey Mister! Let me give you my dollar so I can feed my family the sewage you sell under the guise of low prices.
I don’t know that forcing entire families in other countries to work for peanuts to produce the shit you’re hawking is a low price.
I’m pretty sure that when your employees hold food drives for one another because even they can’t afford your manure, is a low price.
I don’t mean to sound contrary, but hearing your employees stories on gofundme pages while they die in your aisles is not conducive to low prices.
I congratulate you on selling the American dream, made in Afghanistan, Bangladesh or China, from behind the smoke and mirrors. They don’t even realize
they are the goods you’re selling off to the lowest bidder. That takes marketing skills to peddle that crapola.
Tornadic bursts of clarity that light the path so long hidden
Lightning flashes of dervish danced love now bidden
The dialect is moving my feet forward, but
the roots had to reach ancestral proportions
to stretch closer to the stars without distortion.
Outreached hands grip, grasp, climb the galaxies
as Terraria celebrates the gateway rendered of fallacies
Although precarious in balance, it’s to advantage giv’n
that tornadic bursts of clarity pursue the debris forgiven
Posted in B.U.T.Ful, Faith, Human, Observations, Personal, Poetry, Wild Woman Tagged acceptance, adjusting, art, artist, balance, being human, belief, comfort, community, compassion, courage, encouragement, faith, growth, human, humanity, life, love, peace, poem, poetry, power, spirit
If I’d only known the cost
hard earned wisdom would be lost
And I would never gain the power
to release the anger bitter-sour
Posted in Faith, Human, Notes to Self, Observations, poem, Poetry, Wild Woman Tagged being human, freedom, human, humanity, poem, poetry, power, release, wisdom, wishes