As butterfly
I spread my wings
Float in blue sky
Like bird heart sings
Crisis fleeing
Bathing in sun
Never needing
Liquor or gun
As feral cat
Hunting for dinner
Found a fat rat
Supper winner
Am not wasteful
Bones sharpen teeth
I’m so graceful
Watch how I leap
Into the tree
That bends in wind
Creates shade leaves
Rustle amen
Weeping willow
Responds to life
All animals
Seek shelter nights
Like brown rabbit
Along with family
Hopping habit
From dog he flees
Who is a pet
With furry name
Gonna get wet
In light spring rain
Rain that feeds all
Flowers sway feast
They grow green tall
Feeding the bees
Who I disturb
Wearing perfume
My spoken word
Making them zoom
I flee from bees
Into the house
Not escaping
Sting and I shout
Nursing my stings
Was it my fault
Was only a dream
To take a walk
In the garden
Bird watch sun bathe
Bees don’t pardon
Maybe one day
I’ll be reborn
Creature with wings
With ego shorn
Happy living
As butterfly
I spread my wings
Float in blue sky
Living a dream
When death becomes a living thing
A clawing, unseen, weepy touch
A spreading stain of seeping fear
A pall draped o’er the light of day
When death becomes the present tense
When muted voices must redress
Old words, like flowers, curled and mute
To free themselves from sorrow’s lie
When living death subverts its role
Its cape and scythe gone strangely still
A coldness of the soul is held
When death becomes a living thing
stillness in near trees
nature speaks very loudly~
breathe slow watchful eyes
7/30/2023
I have been at a crossroad for years
Struggling past a multitude of fears
And as weary as I might get
I still can’t say without fret
That I am the loneliest living thing.
Flowers wither and die
But before then they live a melancholy life
They crumble underneath tiny little feet
Bees steal their nectar for something good to eat
So, if I were to profess
That I was the loneliest living thing
Flowers would gladly confess
That I lie about nearly everything
Abandoned houseboat
a cage, hungry bird within.
just a living thing
axe or scalpel cutting to joints and marrow a cure or kill
My life as a living thing.. what are
things? Just a tool to keep you
entertained, a rock that shines to be
worth more than a human soul.
Blood spilled, minds tortured. What
is with these things? Why are they
worth more than a friend to keep. I
try. I weep. People are just in to
deep with these things. A sober
mind from drugs ,politics and
materialism shine more than the
rock on Paris Hilton's hand to be
seen by the stars above. I am
something. Because I have more
than just a thing
A swift running athlete, on two fleet-feet,
Runs twenty miles an hour.
A galloping horse runs a faster course;
His hoofs a pounding power.
Still faster is the deer traveling in fear.
At fifty he looks around,
To see a cheetah display seventy to catch its prey.
He’s the fastest four-footer found.
For greater speeds, the sky favors fowls that fly,
With vultures venturing ninety.
Alas, the golden eagle, sleek and regal,
zooms to one-twenty, looming mighty.
But the falcon hawk, ballistic trim, lets gravity work for him
In a vertical dive.
His feathers fairly whistle, for he’s a flying missile—
at one-sixty, the fastest thing alive!
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