kisses.
feel them
the tension and aliveness
they’re loaded with psychology and social context
its an intense observation
mouths connect our inner and outer worlds
they cross the exterior-interior divide
they’re simple forms of passion and expression
but they’re drastic and emphatic
I wrestle with wildness
I desire less breathing room, less layering
I riot with instinctive response
I long to obliterate feminine’ restraint
and share inner experience
.
.
A song for this:
Drive Me Crazy by The SoCal VoCals
Fly Into Your Arms (a cappella) by X-Cetra
Nothing Can Stop Us by Saint Etienne
I see the smile on your face,
But the truth's in your eyes.
That smile and your laugh
Are only covering up lies.
You're only playing a part,
So the truth you can hide.
But I looked into your eyes;
I see inside you've died.
A single mother with no help;
For you, life has been cruel,
Relentless with its torment,
And making you look like a fool.
You could never get a break
Or even a little breathing room.
Life just wore you down,
Making you your own tomb.
You found a way to provide,
But I see the price you paid.
If you could still feel emotions,
You know you'd feel betrayed.
You're so empty I hear the echo
From the fake laugh you give.
It breaks my heart to see this,
The way that you have to live.
Every day there're problems
You overcome and subdue.
Your kids right there watching
Completely amazed by you.
To those kids you're a hero
In their eyes you'll always be.
You battled life and the devil
And came out with a victory.
#14: Revelations 23:1
Human chain meant Starman ... breathing room trips,
H**** sapiens chose ... plus naught minus,
the apocalypse ... opts total eclipse,
self-acquaintance, he splits us, Linnaeus,
Con temporaries times, countdown it chills,
Adolph & Stalin it ticks and it tocks,
Pre temporaries times, pour down it spills,
Alexander, Khan drip sands as it stocks,
Once down on the time, leaves heaped reds and golds,
down on one-timers, the large waterholes.
Cause and effects--pause and reflect; Reserved,
Blessed manifest--Grace takes His Place; The Word.
[Bible scholars well-versed: book/chapter/verse, Reserved?]
#13: Close One, & Cigars
To the accords of The Book of Life ... cheers,
loose ends of the created stoic string
crisscross a heedless sea of empty tears.
In the facade of guilt, all seems trifling.
Metallica Horizons all are round,
languages changing from their Mother Tongues,
World Clock, reassemble to Zero down.
New tastes, new sounds ... The Song of Flower Drums
from Southerners, not quite, the cowboy type.
Bowls bleed of beets, ... have fun chow from Macao.
Americans, ... where? ... flagless world, all hype ...
Russians, Chinese, there ... steak, Mindanao.
Ex-lives work as one, building their Starships,
human chain meant Starman ... breathing room trips.
love's seed was planted
by a constant gardener;
watered day by day, with time,
it grew all over the soil,
making no breathing room
for hate and her weeds.
Midst anger fester the fox's concerns
infecting every breathing room
with pique and plaint in brilliance painted
ensconced in virtue, truth untainted
Whilst swirls the mud, a sewer's worth
from which a sample oozes forth
to tempt the toadies of our times
who lip and tongue their fonts of rhyme
Unity's preached midst raw dissension
clarity abuts miscomprehension
Breathing Room
I feel the strong embracing lift
buoyant and warm around me
calming the waves of hope and fear
joyous within each empty day
inviting me to join the flow
to put my humming mind away
confusion drops a pebble in
the whole mess starts swirling down
scorecard figures dancing up
again and again the name I give it
fails to find the ink to shape it
there is one I call upon
with volumes numbered one to nine
She holds a frozen knife of air
the narrow crimson falls away
a circle of light begins to fade
on my knees I put my finger
over the small remaining dot
Writing empty spaces,
words taken away
Leaving a great silence
—where destiny plays
(Dreamsleep: August, 2021)
Blue Monarch Faerie had been vacationing in the Bahamas
So relaxed and pliable now, quite unlike her double mama’s.
Just wait ‘til you get back, one said over her scratchy I-phone.
They are hovering near your mushroom, some not alone.
She was bombarded upon wakening the very next day.
They had come from field, meadow, woods, quite far away.
There was a smooth-talking snail who wanted all of her time.
He spoke in riddles, jokes, short stories, and gave her a rhyme.
Surrounded by her favorite flowers of lilies, and cone flowers too.
She decided all of this attention should be okay as admirers grew.
There were two curious squirrels and a caustic cawing blue jay.
She saw a miniature raccoon stealthily sneaking her way.
A sassy salamander and red tree frog were chirping her name.
She asked them all for some space, but they became a tight frame.
Come on! She told them. I have to have some breathing room okay?
This was her first day back from vacation. Her very first day!
Dexter John, baby calf was tuckered, he had been playing all day.
He laid down in the Kansas grass, brown enough to be harsh hay.
His fifteen-year-old human cousins picked him up without a peep.
Placed him in a green wheelbarrow, comfortable enough to sleep.
His mother was comfortable resting her teats for a little while
The sun came out and filled the sky for a delightful country mile.
Dexter John snoozed loudly, his dreams of barley, oats and hay.
He was being weaned from his mother, and this truly was the way.
Bull Daddy came across his wife, with no calf youngster by her side.
Where is Dexter John? He snorted, for Dexter was his loin-filled pride.
He’s in the barn, taking a snooze, giving me a little breathing room.
When he gets ready for some milk, he’ll be back out, probably quite soon.
The teenage boys heard Dexter John bellowing for his tasty mother.
They gave him pats and set him on his feet and he ran to join his brother.
Why did they put you in the green thing? His twin asked, was it a dare?
It was not so bad, Dexter John replied. I napped. It was kind of fun in there.
i seemingly slur
only a sigh
a maiden waiting
every rounded
syllable
diagrammed
breathing room
where worms roam
and angels fly
i pinch my own
cheeks, healthy
no blood rises
cherry juice
fills my eyes
when truth shouts
proverbial monkey
eyes, ears, mouth
covered
the fan spins
a pendulum swings
i ponder
honesty speaks
as snowy hair
from an eagle’s nest
a child rests
on her lap
leaning into love
learning to fly
cracking of shell
severe
the child grabs
for air
falling, feeling
the eagle swoops
releasing feathers
headdress rendering
wise wings catch
current events
survey the land
8/11/2018
(James 1:19-20 NIV) My dear brothers, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry, for man’s anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.
There's a breathing room looming
Around me, vacantly alive but viscous;
Feeling the bitter dead breath
While grating still, fully motionless
Like a thick,pungent mound of darkness;
As the chill runs unto my raw bones...
Nothing satisfies its hideous plight
With eyes wide open, a nightmare
Screaming devilishly at the ceiling;
Restless, growing weary down the marrow...
I reach for the lamp..it is shut, broken
Until my instinct wakes; this room is the Fear
Lying deep within a childhood's unsettled sin.
For Brian Strand's Mid-January 2018 Premiere:
Resubmitted 1/12/2018
No room to breathe
Or catch one's breath
Words and phrases
Once written on pages
Just as easily lost
A world without borders
No judge, no jury
Freedom with wings
To love oneself completely
Clinging to words bound
Caught within a dream
Reality just in reach
Coming up for air
Before one drowns
Writing on pure emotion
True to style and form
Life returns to normal,
People head to work;
But below the surface,
Some surprises surely lurk:
Lots of detours on the roads,
Rivers scaling banks;
If your route is trouble-free,
You owe a debt of thanks.
Stranded passengers still wait,
Fighting or resigned;
Canceled plans have left so many
Stuck in quite a bind.
Power outages still rage,
People making do;
Human nature helps us cope
So somehow, we’ll get through.
Still, the sun is shining;
Clean-up has begun.
We’ll deal with the hassles
And attack them, one by one.
Let’s hope we clean up quickly –
Well, as fast as time permits;
‘Cause we need a little breathing room
Before the next storm hits.
I am not asking for much during my moment
Just a little breathing room, let me vent
There are corrupt politicians, crooked cops, greasy palms
Honesty and truth for once is what I really want
I want to know what's inside you
I bet you are mostly black and blue
Religious fanatics claiming human lives in the name of Allah
Determined by who draws the shortest straw
Oil rich nations with their dirt poor starving people dying
Blind eye from our own government, homeless, President lying
Meth labs, crack houses, drug dealers are becoming more common than
convenience stores
Police raid, blue light special, all this action is right next door
The neighbors don't socialize, so they haven't got a clue
I guess everyone's house is a little black and blue
It will be nice to see a fresh face in the oval office
Maybe stop the governors with hookers and all the other lawlessness
We all keep pushing for a better tomorrow
Lock up those who steal, help those who beg and give a break to those who
borrow
Cut through the chase, hone the blade, keep it true
But there are no real answers to prevent the black and blue
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