External Storms
Listen close, the winds whisper low,
A symphony of sorrow's ebb and glow.
Thunder rumbles, a beast awakening,
Heaven's own heartbeat, in warning speaking.
Pressure builds, unseen forces stir,
An invisible tempest, nature's curse.
Silhouettes dance on lightning's flash,
Echoes of laughter turn to ash.
As shadows lengthen and tempests rage outside,
Within these walls, another battle wages.
A heart laid bare, its defenses torn apart,
Yearns for embrace yet trembles at a new start.
Through sheets of rain and tears untold,
A silhouette emerges, a ghost story retold.
Familiar features, both blessing and banded,
Approach with caution, yet still drawn again.
Hope rises like the tide, threatening to engulf,
Dragging secrets from the depths, forcing confessions cruel.
Lightning flashes, illuminating scars,
Reflections of shattered lives, jagged edges sharp.
I should walk away, flee this maelstrom of doubt,
Yet I remain rooted, paralyzed by your pout.
One touch ignites a firestorm within,
Reason abandoned, surrendering to sin.
Wakey, wakey!
The buzz from my advanced THRITY THREE TEN seem to yell
Opened windows slapped aging mango leaves on my face
Monday already? Morning already?
Granny’s creaking chair again!
Savoring with folks of mine the bland toast with juicy old gossip, mom’s warm smile
Welcomed into my everyday worn out NIKE with pain
Unending miles, but starts with a mile.
The bus took forever to come
Even when it came two minutes, fifty-seven seconds earlier,
Latest gossip rent the air, formally strangers banded like long lost brothers
Monday already? Morning already?
Of course, the day went by quietly as usual
The honking of tired vehicles continually pierced my ears
It seems like the beggars made a fortune again
Afternoon ended, the sun is setting.
Inspiration Mode: LOADING
Obviously, this early dinner has become part of us
Worth it though, because I was stolen by a dreamless sleep…
Wakey, wakey!
Morning already?
we stood alone
that's how hunger works
we craved attention
a little praise
when i think back
we could have banded
we could have been strong
but we didn't
Posted on March 4, 2025
silenced canaries
sexed and banded and wings clipped~
cagey politics
Choirs For Tomorrow
I must feed
tough as tough semiprecious form of
quartz with banded colouring to
the backyard fungi with gills on
the bottom of
their cap, and then
mark history by
planting pitch forks around the
front lawn.
A lean coyote chases a hare through
heat of desert winds. His swift doe
darts past my boots. They've managed
to escape, this time. He'll lead the chase
away another day.
I pause to watch the side-winder as he
considers a kangaroo rat, before moving
on between two century plants to a
rock ledge nearby. The tidy yellow rat
continues eating seeds, gleaning moisture,
never needing to sip drink in this dry
yet vibrant land.
The cactus wren with spotted breast
sits atop a prickly pear. The gilded
flickers' rosy cheeks and banded wings
are a colorful reminder of the beauty
I find out here. Their sturdy tails prop
them upright against a great saguaro,
carving out a hole for nest.
I crunch the tangy bulb of a white
desert lily whose green tendrils curl
on the ground. And here, as evening
cools walking back to my new home,
a silver moon illuminates my path. I
glory in this wondrous desert scene.
Pouncing across the white pinwheel flowers,
dancing to the delightful tunes of breeze,
Blue beauty performed an air show for hours;
For a few moments, my sorrows she seized
Displaying a kaleidoscope of hues,
like a vibrant tableau, she unfurled views;
With bright blue colour, she blew off the blues
And my worldly worries I just eschewed
From bright royal blue to emerald green,
swapped colours, swiftly like a magician;
Her wings a canvas of shimmering sheen;
To find her name was my only mission.
Banded peacock is her beautiful name
Oh! Now, All I can do is just exclaim.
Oct-05-2024
He sets up His mast upon His raft.
He sailed the tops and groves of the trees in granting
There He goes through the forest, soaring His craft
He provides energy to the wild as the swift wind passes.
The freshness of the timbers climbing,
When they flourish where they're standing
The aroma of wood is the best for understanding
That should have it to vend banded we invoke.
We notice vines developing, surrounding the trees,
Sustaining one another breathing in this sphere of unity
We concede that we're learning from them by will
A loving connection between these trees and plants
The woodlands breathe with peace and with sense.
A tree's liveliness needs sustaining credence.
For its essence, it rightly deserves to be pleading
As if they were holding hands, the trees and vines
It shows us they have the capability of a love within residing.
The trees and different characters thereof,
An advanced tier of life to replenish our air above
An intelligent, complex organism of vitality
We discover more about this reality-based formality.
Time to tour the best Christmas-decorated places in town
With a map in hand of all the beautifully lit-up houses to be found
Despite the amount of time to set up and to take down the people have given us a wonderful gift for all of us to enjoy
Whole streets have banded together to create a visual spectrum of flashing lights and creative characters that bring smiles to all the girls and boys
Carollers can be seen going door to door singing songs full of joy
On the rooftops, Santa and his reindeer seem to be in control of the night, ready to deploy
As if like magic the clouds open up sending a burst of snow floating down
Soon the lawns will have a blanket of snow without so much as making a sound
In the living rooms, trees with their colorful attire show off to the people walking by
A large crowd has gathered at the end of the block, jolly old Saint Nick handing out candy canes and looking spry
Christmas may come once a year but joy and happiness need to be spread every day
As you walk by a neighbor who has decorated his place a special thanks should surely come his way
I chose to love
Embraced bitter sweet love
My mind's patched
My heart's banded up
Yet it heals to be fibrosed
To never beat like before
All a consequence of loving
Loving has never been more difficult
But do I still will to love
You are damn right , I do
Cos it's my way out of a dystopian life
Love's hurts are like butter to bread compared to my dystopian woes
Finding love was always a daydream until I grew wings and escaped back to reality
You don't know how many times I died inside in loneliness
You can't fathom my heavy burdens
I have appeared all fresh superficially but deep down I dessicated multi-ply
Love was my savior, my guarding grace
In the tall many-eyed hospital
I am shrunken into a small pocket of isolation
waiting for a man to die or
the replanting of a once mislaid miracle.
I'm ducking beneath time and place waiting for something
I dare not name yet.
A stranger walks by,
he looks at me as if I am known to him
I want to tell him I hardly know myself anymore
but now his eyes are glazing over with indifference.
I’ve been here before,
a little further down this corridor
as a person blanked to off-white for the ease of finding;
a fearless medical concern, laid-out,
detailed, prepped for the probing,
one wrist banded just in case the unforeseen
grew too large to be ignored.
Today I am only a figure on a bench
visiting, hoping for news of death postponed
trying to recall one iota of the fear I once left here
as I, bundled against a heartless wind
was delivered back into a living space,
a place my friend may not find anymore.
Swirls of shadowed light rest in minds filled with wakeful anxiety, while the burning ice warms their souls with its chills
Falling in tandem with the rising waves cresting against sandless beaches, reaching for pieces broken by gentle hands banded in the company of destruction
Seduction of the celibate through linear sways of hip and lip, trying as one might to grip and rip the shattered remnants whole
Candescent pitch shining a brilliant purple/black against the flashing abyss, with lost tack that stacked bricks on back become feathers for wings that caress the winds to take it flight
Roary Raccoon was dazzling in his orange banded witch’s hat.
Are you now a warlock? Asked his nemesis, Mr. Busybody Cat..
Roary’s loud sigh was not enough hint for this big buffoon.
Whose yowling is annoying every night next to the moon.
I am a stylish raccoon, Roary informed him in his plain way.
I can be an astronaut, physicist or physician any old day.
This hat does not make me a warlock, you fuddy fiddle fee.
Please take your busybody habits with you far away from me.
Camouflage me quickly the fowl yelled as he landed.
Did not know who he was, but we ran out with paints - blue and red.
Can we colorize your feathers asked our leader, Mrs. Banded.
Do what you must to keep me away from the broiler, he said.
What are you talking about? Asked our naïve chicks of yellow.
With one warning look, he shushed his mouth, a wiser fellow.
What did he mean, dad? My chicks asked me that night.
I have no idea, I told them. I tucked them in, their eyes big and bright.
I want them to stay young and innocent as long as I can.
There will be plenty of time to ruin their dreams, agreed Mr sandman.
AIt is said and sadly wrongly banded about
like confetti at a wake
By those who quite patently do not or will never know the meaning of true love
You don't know what
you've got till it's gone
Unfortunately I always did now it's only been affirmed
And even though she is mine
She was never mine to keep
Regretfully in regards and only unto me
I had to set her free to leave upon a jet plane
to return home
And sadly now in the not to distant future the only time I will get to see her
Is on this here silver screen starring back at me
But i always knew what I had long before she even left
Despite yet still knowing I had to set her free regardless
But maybe that for some is just what love is actually anyway
But far rather and better to have loved and
lost than never to have been loved at all
All I know is I have I always loved love Jo
now sorely more than ever before
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