Generator, Operator, Destroyer

Me and my bean, we’ve seen things.

We’ve stared into each of our eyes so intently that we’ve seen God.

We do this for minutes and he doesn’t turn away.

I don’t turn away.

We just stare until our hairs rise and we giggle

Because I helped create him and he helped resurrect me. 

When I hum and he hums we breathe in the same things and we mmmmmmmmmmmmm

Until we smile because it feels good to be one sound.

And when he’s tired he curls up like a little bean, legs and arms tucked right on my lap with his ear by my chest,

I wrap my arms around him until our heart beats the same again and we return home,

Both of us a whisper who haunts gods dreams and lure him to play king of the forest,

Until we open our eyes and forget 



The Sun Always Sets in the Past


The Sun Always Sets in the Past

Don’t look back,

Don’t you ever look back!

It’s dangerous they say,

It makes you wonder

Why you floundered 

It makes you fonder 

Of the things that were blunders. 

It means you found her,

And then maybe lost her?

Ah shit! You looked,

And it sparkled. 

The rays of the past shooting right out of your head 

Right before your eyes. 

As if crossing dimensions

To lure you into the memory,

But it’s not real they say,

See how you can only see it in a rear view mirror?

No sun sets in the future,

You can only see them shine behind you. 

Then again,

What’s the harm in repainting yesterday 

Into a thing of warm bright yellow orange lights that melts right over your tongue and forces a little smile,

Because you keep missing the marvelous sunsets 

And only manage to catch the rays through your rear view mirror. 

Why must we always be present

When enlightenment is not my fancy,

And I want to live a life filled occasionally with errors, pain, hurt, loss, tears and heartache,

So that I don’t have to pick scabs to feel alive and I can occasionally look back and let my phantoms be fantastic like the suns sinking adieu at its brightest when I look through the looking glass. 

Open Heart 

Lying still in bed after a long moment of silence with my Love, 

“Hey I was thinking that there are a few people living into there 120’s.”


“So who knows how long we could live by the time we are older.”

Silent contemplation 

“We could very well spend at least a hundred years together.”

“That would be good.”

“Yes I would like that very much.”


When figs are in season,

It always remind me of time. 

“It’s already that time of year,

I get to indulge in such deliciousness”

Only sweet a few months a year and then I get a little sad for just a sliver of a moment before settling down to the normalcy of figless months.

It is only when figs come back do I remember that I must be older because I’ve already moved through a year and I recall so many moments munching on a bowl full of half cut figs,

Or snacking down a ziplock bag full of dehydrated figs that remind me of pockets of warm jam in my mouth, 

Or homemade jam that pops when I chew my sandwiches because of the seeds. 

How many seasons passed already, and why does the time between get shorter and shorter?

But today I scrolled across a picture of a beautiful pink centered  plate of figs that felt sinful at how sensual the nostalgia feels, 

And I wonder how many fig seasons have passed?

Because for the first time I’m yearning for them, 

Even though I feel that it means another season passing where my youth is just a little further from my grasp,

Though that will not keep me from smiling when I take my first bite into a ripe sweet fig. 

Random Beginnings with No Endings #2 (spring cleaning)

The cycles
They come and come and come each month and this one feels familiar to the last one.
The comfortable kind.
The sweet warm kind
The present kind,
The I know I am alive kind.
I do not fear the walk up to my aliveness.
The thought, a sort of lochness,
But each step there’s lightness
As the bright face of the moon pulls up my water to the ite-ness.


Cream sugar butter honey grapes jam spreaders

I had the most vivid dream. I saw the most revealing scene
In one month
A grammar book,
And a note
Cheeks pressed
And comfort

And knowing.

Reggae pops dancing his way to Xanadu

Hey reggae pops,
We didn’t really know each other except that we have nodded and smiled because, you know, we did know each other in that kind of way that all dancing souls do.
And I was.

A reality show

Create space

Dance for the sun.

This is the thought. I should just go for everything.

I am yoga


The Dark and the Light

I’ve come a long way since that girl who was asked to play games behind the red brick wall,
And a long, long way since I was curled at the bottom of a car floor sopping wet with tears and stained.
I’ve come so far I almost forgot through all the ‘ain’t life a blessing’ smile I walk around with
That there once was a girl who didn’t know she even had a sad past because it was regular.
But here and now on the rare occasion, I remember a different kind of girl who saw the darker side of things,
Though it’s not bad at all when I’m looking from the brighter side of things,
The kind from the upper east side
Eating that slice of pie I used to sing about for days on lazy mornings watching the others living like life was made from the lighter kind of things,
Ending every half hour with hearty laughs and still thinking that it wasn’t so bad,
Those years when I can only think of now as the darker kind of mad world that everyone was living in
Because it was regular.
But it’s not so regular and I’m not too sure anymore if that was real,
That story of the little girl who still smiled and laughed like any other girl despite it,
Except I still feel like smiling and
I’m living that blessed kind of thing through and through.


At Midnight

Clink, clank,
Womp, womp, womp
“Ummmmm” he groans next to me.
And I stare and I wonder
Will I sleep next?
Or will I just lie here a little tired,
But with nothing to do but listen to the beat of the night.


Please Don’t Color My Roses Red, Son!

Please don’t color my roses red, Son!
I want to see the truth that you see,
The way I once saw before they told me how to see.
I want you to show me what I once saw,
Before they told me how to color a flower,
With green leaves,
And the two petals splayed like arms
All the same
As them.
Please don’t color my grass green Son!
I want to see the beautiful earth
Reflecting prisms of sunshine
Speckled with glimmering lights from your eyes,
Which are also mine,
Though I can only see what
They’ve taught me to see.
All the same
As them.
Please don’t color my sky blue, Son!
I want to see the heavenly majestic
subtleties of the orgasmic
beyond the 16 count box,
That have yet to know a name,
Before I was tainted by the same institution I placed you in.
All the same
As me.
So please forgive me and color my roses whatever fancy you see
In the honesty of your mind’s eye,
And I promise to remember what I saw before I was mind-washed
if you show me how.
And I’ll remind you along the way,
So that you’ll not forget what it is Before they try to teach you how to color a rose red,
Inbetween the bold black lines.
And we will survive
And be the same
As we always were,
As we always are.
As we are.


The Boy Who Fell in Love with the Sun and Moon

There once was a boy who would wake after the sun rose and sleep before sunset.
But one night he had a night filled with incredible dreams of birds and light. It stirred him wake right before dawn.
He looked out the window for it was the very first time no light shone through. Right as he peaked, the first gentle ray of shine shot through and he caught his first glimpse of the Sun.
He fell in love.
He ran outside and spread his arms to stretch himself as big as he could so that the warmth from the Sun would make his face tingle.
He ran and laughed with the sun.
As the weeks went by and the boy grew stronger, darker, and livelier, he would yell up to the sky as loud as he could, “Thank you for seeing me every day, I love you!” As he let the echoes carry his message to the light.
Then one day the boy felt such an energy that kept him up until the sun began to sink down over the valley.
“Where are you going Sun! Please do not leave me.” He felt a pain in his chest and fear began to come close with the growing shadow of the night.
“Sun, please do not leave me! I am scared!” And he curled into himself,
His arms wrapped tightly over his shins and his head tucked. The first heartache is always the hardest.
But he felt a soothing upon his back and glanced upward.
In the night sky a beautiful light, not like the sun, bright and warm,
but a whiteblue light made the lines in his sight glow an enchanted bright.
Again the boy fell in love.
Wiping the tears from him eyes he looked to the sky and whispered,
“And I love the Sun. But Moon how I do love your light! It makes me calm.”
The boy stayed up most of the night singing new songs, and drawing marvelous pictures of the images in his mind.
He kept smiling as he glanced up at the always changing, yet always the same familiar smiling Moon.
As weeks passed and the boy continued to play with both the Sun and the Moon, he began to feel weak.
His limbs were thinning, the bright eyes that reflect both the rays of the Sun and light of the Moon began to dim.
When he saw his beloved Sun he yelled, “I love you Sun, but I am not feeling so strong.”
Later that same evening he whispered to the magnificent Moon, “You know how I love you, but my voice is too hoarse for song tonight.”
He soon fell asleep for a couple days and had the most incredible dreams full of light and love. In his dream he saw how the Sun wrapped his warmth around him and he would stare at the Moon with love. The Moon gave him a wink and wrapped his arms around something deep inside of him and he knew. “My skin needs the Sun, but the skin of my heart feels the Moon in a fancy.”
When he awoke just in time to see the Sun peak through the trees,
The boy shouted, “I love you Sun.” Laughing out loud with the strength that he felt pushing through the core of his belly. After saying goodnight to the sun, the boy waited for his moon.
“I love you Moon! But I must lie down now” and with a heavy heart and a little misty from the parting he went to sleep.”
The boy, in his slumber, was heard laughing through the house because he saw the Moon in his dreams as he spread his owl wings and noticed his songs came out with a “Hoot!”


Random Beginnings with No Endings


Some kind of righteousness kinda brainwashing from a long forgotten memory places blocks in our path.

Words are not my weapon. They aren’t the tool.
I want to spread it in a wave of repair

I’m smiling right now because I know how much I will love looking at these years.
Send that energy out there so it can come back

Feel as the life surges through to the very essence

I paint the words
Lay them down.
Sometimes we have to redefine
The connotations.

The mothers heart encompasses the soul of the world.

Tower of Babel
Who taught us the illusion that unification,
To yoke
Is evil? What fear drove us apart?

Nothing I write is real but everything about it is true.

Our dreams are the breath…

Yes I can rhyme too,
See words together
And still be true,
Though I don’t.

We are bacteria in earths body,
Some of us here to corrupt and destroy trying to kill the host body,
Possibly unintentionally because its how some are programmed
And then others to clean up and make sure it stay healthy and strong
Bacteria have the capability to make the body stronger than its original state.

We do not walk in circles in order to forget, but in order to remember. With repetition, we can remember right into the now.

The world is good when you see how people smile when music seeps into the flesh.

Music is one of those spontaneous moments which can’t be studied and relived but stays in the treasure chest part of the brain held to one day open those moments that were the best and not worth missing a moment of recording it because nothing beats the love moment.

Art comes from a place you don’t even understand. I think out loud. It’s my art or craft.

2 curious cats in a curio catch

My gypsy feet.

The kind of moment that plays back forever. Memory of a flash of smiling teeth and a look.

I have a relationship with my thoughts.

I must find a way to fossilize my spoken steps towards immortalizingy essence

What more is the point other than coming upon this earth to leave with it a beautiful perfume of your existence.

Morsels of peace I hold in my pocket.
I spread my arms, spread my fingers, spreads self like wings to salud to the ocean breeze

Give gratitude each day that the breath of the mother kisses may face.

Into the corners of night.

The drive simply was not there for competition because of my limited attention span.

There are zombies. And there are thinkers. Doers. Creators.

I should have waited…

A prayer goes out to you,

Who’s down for free therapy. Grab a shovel. We’ll talk, maybe cry, most likely laugh and plant that energy into the dark rich soil that will being life to earth.

Catching dreams

When I was little I would get caught staring past the objects right in front of me
Because I was looking at the places inside of my head

Chasing the effervescent tail of some fantastic

Between my snapping fingers

All i had to do is uncurl my fingers
All I had to do is open my hand
All I had to do is look

When I was little I would get caught staring past the objects right in front of me
Because I was looking at the places inside of my head

My mama’d say, “Your eyes are open but why can’t you see”
I didn’t even hear her.

Papa told me, “if you wanna catch dreams, all you gotta do is hold out your hand”
And i stood there
my hands stretched out waiting to feel the smack of a dream to grasp,
I didn’t understand.

I’m a analog kind of gal
And he’s a digital kinda guy

The city smolders like the end of cigarette butts.

The fog made us dreamers
Like a sequence from an 80s movie
High hair cheesing.


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