Tell me darling, what’s the time, what’s the time
My Fitbit is out of charge, out of charge
What you say I can’t define, can’t define
Maybe distance is too large, is too large
“Love, I can’t speak from here, speak from here
I can’t tell where I am, where I am
It’s just signs that you hear, that you hear
Hope to send more of them, more of them
Just remind me you love me, you love me
Anytime that will suit you, will suit you
Don’t forget to be with me, be with me
See I am with you too, with you too..”
Daddy, there's an octopus in the cellar.
Dear, the octopus is an ocean dweller.
Daddy, now the octopus is in the attic.
Dear, the octopus is known to be aquatic -
just as I have told you, daughter.
Daddy, but the house is underwater.
inertia
static, immobile
sleeping, sitting, unstirring
Stop sign, mountain, cyclist, worker
racing, hustling, planning
busy, energetic
activity
Aries burns like the first flame,
and I remember how beginnings never come quietly.
Taurus roots me in the soil,
reminding me to hold steady when storms arrive.
Gemini speaks in twin voices,
just like the arguments I carry inside my chest.
Cancer is the tide pulling me home,
waves carrying memory I thought I’d left behind.
Leo rises with the sun,
and I know hope is the roar I cannot silence.
Virgo stitches my scars into patterns,
turning survival into wisdom.
Scorpio bends me into shadow,
yet I rise, carrying ashes as proof I endured.
My mind is a dark labyrinth without torches or welcome signs
Only corridors that remember my footsteps
Better than I do
I enter thinking I am the architect
But the walls shift when I turn away
Rearranging themselves into old questions
I thought I had answered
Some rooms are locked with keys I swallowed years ago
Because I was tired of losing things I couldn’t afford to name
There are mirrors here that do not reflect my face
Only versions of me I almost became
In moments I survived poorly
I keep walking anyway
Because stillness feels like drowning
And even confusion feels like movement
If I ever find the center
I suspect it will not be an answer
Only a quieter version of the same darkness
Finally learning my name
Provide direction
some to voice an objection.
and, of things to come.
INTERESTING SIGNS
progressive
neutral
metamorphosis
untouched
in
constant
flux
of
contemporary
theories
with
normative
effects
an
inability
to
interpret
or innovate
innocence
on
insistence
of existence
a vitality
naturally
lauded
in
hallmarks
celebrated
with
intensity
bringing
countless
delights
burgeoning
enthusiasm
sophisticated
sensations
flux
in
vital
disquiet
of
providential
paradoxically
designed
entities
The warning stands tall
Yellow diamond of dread
Stones tumble toward the surf.
Watch the ocean cliffs
Brake before the rubble strikes
Safe past crashing waves below.
I know these are the last days
I know I am living in the days of Noah
I see the exit signs everywhere
ferocious hurricanes
power hungry tornadoes
rising upon us like never before
barbaric wars among nations
spreading all over the news
ocean tides rising as fast
as the yeast found in bread
overflowing onto the land
as I see the world falling apart
I continue to seek our Lord for grace and mercy
I know the time pack up and go
because now I know that someday
in some distant future
that Marmalade Lane will soon no longer
be called my home
neither will Nassau, Bahamas
my new home will be upstairs in that golden city
with the almighty father and his son for all eternity
Signs are everywhere, they are like clues that help us to see clear.
Signs are messages, like when your stomach growls, it gives us the sign that we need to eat and make us feel full to continue on.
Signs come from many ways, they are like the darkness before the storm giving us time to take shelter and stay clear.
Signs are sometimes not there, we have to listen to our intuition, we have to follow our own thoughts, that make sense and lead us to a safe spot.
Signs are sometimes bad, we look at them and feel confused, and think wow, that is not true.
Signs can be good and bad, they can be placed to make you lose your way.
So, look and think, long and hard, do not rush to follow a sign, think to yourself if its good, and take care of yourself.
Lifting prayers to God, today and always.
Don't act like you don't see
the Red Flags flashing.
Don't deliberately ignore
the warning signs.
I know you want to be
with me,
but is it wise to deliberately
become emotionally blind,
to overlook the episode
unfolding
right before your eyes?
I'm flattered that you would
turn a blind eye.
But flattery is not a part
of my reality,
at this point in time.
You've created distorted visions
of you and I.
I'm not a relationship type
of guy,
maybe in another time
another place
you would be the perfect
design
to color my mind
with happiness.
But right now
don't act like you don't see
the Red Flags flashing.
Don't deliberately ignore
the warning signs.
I know you want to be
with me.
But is it wise
to act like you don't see
how messed up I am
at this point in time.
I am an emotional train wreck.
So please don't do
what most people do
when they want something
bad enough
turn a blind eye
to the Red Flags flashing.
Street Signs
Before books, there were directives.
STOP in lacquered red.
ONE WAY like doctrine.
Language hung above us—
bright, declarative,
impossible to ignore.
On corners where pigeons argued with wind,
metal decided who belonged:
Harlem. Broadway. Houston.
We inherited arrows
before we inherited choice.
Somewhere between
NO STANDING ANYTIME
and WALK,
we learned to move anyway.
Against the back drop of green leaf copses, dulcet bird chirp, and bubbling pavement fountains,
that dawning from the azure blue sky a silken whisper,
to follow street signs on my route to work with ample gusto and much verve,
each metal
pointer to destination a micro mirror on its surround,
stoic indicator of direction, that upright unique urban compass,
clustered by behemoth scenic grandeur at its mint spring zenith,
and surging throngs who sashay in brisk step patterns so diverse yet firmly focussed,
as I am whilst counting on that reference point, that fixed point usher,
that deep-dyed friend at each crossroad safe in the knowledge of arrival,
and in tandem with a spotless day’s heroic toil in bright prospect,
how symbolic are these pathway guide rails to one who warms to flagship growth,
in its august transit on foot slog pitfall strewn road of expertism,
pole mounted emblems, silent sentry solid, detail for me on daily passage.
dark asphalt circle—
no off-ramp option to choose
stuck on nowhere's road
spinning through the roundabout
hands and arms flailing wide out
no signal blinking
hope loops through endless replays
needle stuck in groove
I can't find the exit sign
to guide me outta here, now
on and on I drive
without a destination
without a signpost
watching the fuel gauge drop
early morning sun
warms and thaws the frozen ground ~
springtide beginnings
green shoots emerging
poking through the drab cold ground~
nature awakens
green grass sprigs appear
refreshing drab brown to green~
verdant beginning
red robins appear
singing and dancing about~
serenade of spring
a quick flash of green
of tiny fluttering wings~
hummingbird’s return
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