Friday, July 1, 2011




children ground the kite souls
after three I knew the fourth was coming
my soul tethered
tight as soil to rock
solid as rock to core
a flighty bundle beating against the currents

denial growing beyond subjectivity
tears manifesting into bombs that pierce all humanity
sunny days can seem so distant in rolling dust
the kind that wallows beneath furniture swallowing dead skin


my flesh has lost it's taste for people
the one siders
those that give to only rob back within the hour
story makers
spinning tales around imaginary hellfire
dining on sparks
spitting heat into puss filled craters on their own bloated hearts


the numbers are playing cruel games
as hormones dance rabidly upon flesh they will soon abandon
I’ve tossed away algebra and time
gazing into the space in between things
the art of knowing nothing


WE
Terrified of truth
folding it into layer upon layer of deceiving dogma and intellectual thought
Incessant discourse
wars of is or isn't disguising what sits within us
waiting patiently
the all silence
has no wishes
containing US
it is



my hands touch palm side
pressed together
in the only self touch that is returned fully
two hands pointed to sky
self touching self
connecting to all light
to the emptiness of interdependence

rocked into gentle acceptance
Fetal tied
the wind catching beneath glorious colors

nothing is as it seems

a kite struggling in the wind

a child gazing up

trusting

the kite held strong
by twine that binds her soul


nsj
July 1, 2011

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