There is nothing to write about she Prue whined
My reaction to this is not keenly kind
What if that sewing box fell on your head?
What if you died of fright, stone-cold and dead?
She looked at me like I was a weirdo or goon
What if six spaceships dropped away from the moon?
Now I’m on a roll and cannot quit
Loving the reaction of this shocked little nitwit
What if a komodo dragon bit your arm?
Her face has turned purple pink with alarm
The what if’s help me write, I say
She has not written one word by the end of the day
though she claims a writer is who she wants to be
Her imagination is stonewalled by herself, her worst enemy
I am a writer she tells everyone who is brand new
I roll my eyes at my delusional cousin, Prue.
I wonder why aliens stay secret
While the elites play with their demons
Not only from this planet but their spaceships in heaven
Secret basses on the moon
keeping the public in doom
Not only from this planet but their spaceships in heaven
The most holy of symbols
The Pentagram is quite simple
Not only from this planet but their spaceships in heaven
Unite us as one
Like the stars align the sun
Not only from this planet but their spaceships in heaven
Grab your stun gun
It gonna be a tough one
Not only from this planet but their spaceships in heaven
03\21/2014
I was born before a spaceship sailed around a moon or star.
And no aliens had yet been seen appearing from afar.
All of the planets had been named, there were no more to be spotted.
That there were other other galaxies was only claimed by the besotted.
They were fighting the war to end all wars, the year that I was born.
My dad was using horses to plant his wheat and corn.
There were no movies showing space wars as they're showing youth today.
And no one carried stun guns that can take your life away.
All these things were of the future that was coming very soon.
I am glad I got to see it when they walked upon the moon.
I wish that I could stay here for another ninety years
To see the exciting changes as the future perseveres.
Written: 3/09/14
Blue ellipses
Rolling rumbling honey wagons
Glory shouts came from up the river
Shining, I wasn’t alone
My hope clings to mountains
Finding and never knowing
In the moment of soaring
Your eyes spring forth flowers from my soul.
You come to me in dreams,
And as the jogger on the street.
You haunt me as the moon haunts the night sky.
You are the ghostly promise of pure love.
A woman cries against a brick wall,
A man anxiously changes lanes in traffic,
While others kiss on the beach.
While I in dreams feel the lightness of love:
The heavy warming wonder
Slipping out from my mind and
Reaching out through
The jalousies of my bedroom.
I arise to the incoherence
Of grogged and lumbering passions.
And then I slow down,
My feet on the carpet…
The cruel, cold fabric of the world.
The warm, softened fibers of the world.
The mind’s range and scope
And bounce against the light.
Times like these I seem to burn with no purpose.
My solar space, those silvery irises,
Skin as spirit,
Love the wandering ghost.
With fishnets and convertible spaceships:
I will catch you!
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