Rolling down the road before
Been there, done that, know the score
Crossed that bridge, then burned it down
Trapped myself in my hometown
Ghosts of me walk laughing by
Anger driven, cocaine high
I barely know the face of then
But I wear them as my diadem
Broken heart lay broken wide
Spilling love from what’s inside
Trains of childhood sing forlorn
Don’t chase those tracks. Don’t heed those horns.
The taste of your skin
is the richest flavor of sin
Let me drink in your dreams
Collapse at the seams
Let me dive into your spirit
Steadfast as your intimate
Abiding in your soul
your voice, whisper soft, and low
Let me read your skin like braille
breathing in you, then exhale
Give me your deepest release
Let me paint you, my masterpiece
in skies of orange and purple hue
Give to me the art of you
The turning of the Wheel is honored in her space
the breathing of the seasons accounted at her grace
With eyes the color of summer sky she observes the holy
Appreciating each season as its revealed so slowly
Her hair is the color of bonfires, of cider mills or pumpkin pies
When she laughs, I mean really laughs, it could make you cry
She sees the world in music, notes upon a page,
Not a moment passes by that she’s not fully engaged.
She can make a piano dance a jig or an organ sing to God
But she believes, somewhere inside, that she is somehow flawed.
When she gives the gift of her, in whichever way she does,
There is never any doubt in mind, that you are truly loved.
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
I see you there in the shadows pretending you don’t see me.
I’m not there to hurt you, but to love you without question.
To you that may seem an impossible task because “Who’d love you?”
I’ll take out my soul light, holding it high in the air dissipating
The aura of unworthiness, the wall of hostile protection
The child that feels as lost as I have felt
I hear your cries in the dark as the nightmares scream
I’m not there to harm you, but to comfort your fears tenderly
That may feel unlikely considering the state you’re in
I’ll hold up my soul light, filled with love so the dark can’t have
Your rebirth into fruitfulness, your abundance like pomegranate
The child that screams with a voice now heard, like mine.
I feel your heart fighting as fiercely as a cornered animal
I’m not here to defeat you, but to support your victory
You believe you are broken, but I see the power of your will
I’ll offer my soul light as your shield as you fight for you
For your dreams, happiness, love, peace, your very spirit
That child that is frantic to stay safe knows me
I can’t offer redemption. I can’t even offer you a path.
What I can give you is my deepest support as you traverse
Acceptance of your divinity, your understanding of love
Your worthiness of compassion, your gift of kindness
I offer my soul light so you can find your own.
That child knows I am free, release the regrets
Bloom into the garden of unique flora and fauna.
Here, have some of my seeds.
I gush distracted through my days
but when I choke with disgust, starve for poetry,
I dig out their works and cover my ears to the world
The common world where words are disposable,
no longer present pleasure
but tedious imaginings
of short-handed, short-sighted vulgarities.
The world where “u r ok” is acceptable bastardization.
Ready for a binge
I burrow into my favorite comfort foods
like a fork bringing sustenance to my body
I allow them to enter my veins with lusty anticipation.
When I ingest Joel, E.I. Wong, Roads, or Cardiff
I’m blissfully transported, transposed into a new trajectory,
rescued by the unsuspecting, unaware, shiny knights
The breathless depths of my immersion
puddle into my lap, spill onto my blouse
leaving me with short-lived shielding against ignorance
besotting my sensibilities with undulating vocabulary
I lift one last feather towards the wings of Queen Bird.
The final dollop of delectable dessert.
Deep sighs topped with a satisfied burp from my binge-filled indulgence;
Gratefully sated by the authors of still-life slices.
End-of-Life Doula
Traveling Fashion Designers 🌼
By Tony Single
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