Exile


unfamiliar Deja vu 

reverbs like a wraith boomerang

surfacing from untapped depths 

i haven’t been here before

this time 

this place

this person

so why does recognition lurk

hesitantly by blurred borders?

why do i feel 

i have made this choice 

before? 

exiled within my own skin 

i exist like an 

unstrung Rumpelstiltskin

cursed with memory loss

certain there is something

i must recognize

to reclaim my essence

Advertisements

History

P1000756

the broken songs of our race

jab sharp spears against

the overburdened heart of history

(our ends of course justify the means)

we have always

made the choice not to survive

without casting stones at sinners.

so we blame blind eyed destiny for

subtly seeping scarlett letters

into the bared bone melody

of earth’s humming voice,

+ etching permanent bullet holes

in our skinbound human harmony.

we savagely reap + sew

 endless staccato scars,

plunging our necrotic needles into

 the keeper of all life

as she begs + pleads for us

to learn, remember,

or at least sing freely.

lately it seems as if

only the sullen strains of discord

sound in our depths.

the delicately fluting grace

of love’s unstrung notes

fading,

dimmed.

instead, a chorus of fear ripples through

our increasingly distant lyrics.

have we lost our place

in the song of the universe?

Lines

1923649_531259634526_760_n

i’m getting tired of

halves mights + maybes

punch drunk promises

noncommittal sympathy smiles

i need to excise + emerge

out

from under our

label loving lacquered jungle

protest against our sanctified addiction

to coloring inside the lines

with cautious crayons

but the verdant verde grass

beckoning across the picket fence

isn’t any better

seeing as i can’t slake my disgust

with our slick lust of lip service

+ empty gestures

it’s too easy to find excuses

for why not

instead of emerging from our

brilliant little boxes

to just be

Change

change

we all think
we’re ready for it

embrace + adapt
become stronger wiser more beautiful

The glitz over the filthbut the reality
is a patchwork volcano
pieces roiling and
shifting underfoot
unbalancing you

until you’re flat
on your back
peering through the
shocked smoke of something
suddenly gone

at a
layered lava
ceiling you don’t
recognize

harsh consonants
scraping ungentle reminders
on your ears
urging you to rise up

when it’s all
you can do
to just

breathe

Lotus

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.