tension sneaks up behind me like a prankster
tapping lightly just to watch me jump~
thrilled to startle me.
The bow is taut, passion tight
Get a shot off! Get a shot off!
Where will the passion land?
A strategic misdirection
Waiting for sweet release
All possibilities in existence
A strategic misdirection
The essence of a passion tight
Before the shot goes off
A strategic misdirection
Watch your head! Mind your head!
Anticipated release
A strategic misdirection
Whilst the bow is taut
Get a shot off! Watch it fire!
Ready your art for war
toilet is tolerably clean and tasteful, but
toilet paper is almost empty, what a tedious test
tension builds, isn't one sheet too tight?
terror strikes, as the last sheet is spent!
tenaciously glued to commode, feeling tacky.
twin towels hang on the rod, a talisman
to use it or not is the question, thrive or tire.
Art.
A
Release of
Tension
squiggles make me smile, looks like dancing in ink
line sketched zigging or zagging on purpose, leave room left to think
eraser shavings from every Mark drawn. where your mind said,
"no such thing as happy accidents"
having learned a real artist,
makes friends with freshly painted trees.
whispers to the babbling brooks, as the water trickles down.
Relaxing under the shade of the tree that you just drew on your notebook
putting yourself out there with squiggles and zig zags
a
release of
tension
art
Synchronized steps walked cautiously,
Wandered in the conductor's lair.
Where once was echoing laughter,
Now sits a soft-pedal chair.
Roaring and thunderous barrage,
Wry language that he called his own.
Brings a foundational pulse,
A groove he’s always shown.
Collectively, experienced-
The roaring of his defeat.
A community of healing-
Our drum circle- yields to the beat.
"Don't avoid extremes, and don't choose any one extreme. Remain available to both the polarities - that is the art, the secret of balancing." ~ Rajneesh
grapPle or avoid
violation or Obedience
hate or Love
peace or wAr
biRth or death
definite or Imprecise
resistanT or resigned
rivalrY or harmony.
we all thought Uncle Bill would steal the limelight
He loves to have all the attention, breakfast noon and night
but this Thanksgiving the cat usurped all the attention
By riding in on a turkey, which eased all of our tension
The starting line in the short run
a tempest of tension
At the finish, bursts the tape
release of aggression
In the long run, the lines reverse
the start relaxes into stride…
Crescendoing to the end, where
is felt a frenzied, fateful tide
The ripples of email tones
clinging like the tail of a serpent
snap the bent waist
of dreams bowed like pasque blooms
Pressed tight and exacting
a drought soaked soul steeped in dream
becomes a black albino
dissolving into white air
A heart like a furnace
holding cooled magma
breaks into a rough ritual rhythm
raising red cold sweat
Facing what should have been ignored
courage rises
to raise bruised wisdom higher
it carves a hidden spring
The books lie open, quiet and still,
Pages whisper, you’ve learned the skill.
Every line you read, every note you made,
Is strength you gathered, brick by brick laid.
The exam is not fear, it’s a doorway bright,
A moment to show your inner light.
Breathe in courage, let worries rest,
You’ve tried your hardest — that’s your best.
Pens may shake, hearts may race,
But knowledge stays, it knows its place.
Walk in steady, head held high,
You are ready — give it a try.
And when it’s done, whatever the score,
You’ll still be someone meant for more.
Color makes them feel so vulnerable
But his quality makes him so incredible
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
Soul is weary
Heavy heart's dreary
Breastbone crushing resuscitation
Pressing rhythms flatline
A moldering past
Alas—a day to die for
All because of that single decision
To grasp that grate and breathe in the ethereal skies above
Rather than
To let go of that grate and suffocate in the foul sewage below
Because of what he chose
This is what he is
Independent
Not
Incarcerated
Whole
Not
Wounded
Confident
Not
Confused
Slipping off of the rusted edge, on which side will he land?
Brilliant
Not
Bleak
Courageous
Not
Cowardly
Relieved
Not
Remorseful
This is what he is
Because of what he chose
To grasp that grate and breathe in the ethereal skies above
Rather than
To let go of that grate and suffocate in the foul sewage below
All because of that single decision
Now, what if he wasn’t resolved in his decision?
Simply read the poem in reverse.
I walk a rope that hangs in air,
It moves with rules I do not see.
Each step I take feels watched, not free,
And I forget who I used to be.
The rope is soft yet too tight and pulls me back,
Like Kind Hands hiding quiet chains.
It bends around but doesn’t break,
And leads me through the same old lanes.
I feel the pull from sides unknown,
Not just by you, or even me.
Some hands I never see or name
Still change the shape beneath my feet.
I walk like water in a glass,
Shaking with fear I cannot speak.
If I fall, is that called freedom?
Or just another circle made?
The rope still turns but never ends,
And still I walk though truth is blurred.
Still I walk, though the knot is hidden,
And the wind keeps shaking, blurring what I see.
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