17

I can't even begin to tell you what it's like

At the very age I met my groom to be

What shall I dare say?... 

Intrigue lies around the corner

Heart beating rampantly in my chest

A surge of exploding hormonal ecstasy

Panting frantically at the open door

Locked within.

Who pummeled?!

The nights of long surrendering, gone.

A mother, lonely grasping at straws to hold on 

to the last lock, the last locket. 

Curls cascading, past the frock.

 A windowpane seared upon opening. 

Popcorn tossing in the brisk wind. 

Pajama parties, searching, wondering

The last hem. 

Whom shall be beyond the very stitch? 

I've held on for dear life. 

Raised her from a filly. 

A colt. Blasting through the gate. 

I  can no longer contain. 

Youth and madness must circumvent.

Find a way to coexist. 

I'd give anything to take back the years

the locusts have stolen. 

But for now I will cherish 

Gain a new appreciation for fondness

Learn to rest my weary head 

And dream of what is never lost. 

Nothingness

For some reason I decided not to write.

There wasn't anything different about the day 

or the air.

It was an intentional decision

Poignant and from the heart. 

And I decided not to post. 

Many eyes were upon me and I responded 

To nothing no one and 

Nothingness.

Intentional 

Very intentional indeed. 

I parted a farewell

A very fond farewell.

It wasn't that I couldn't write. 

I knew there were words forming in my head. 

I just simply chose to not put them upon the paper. 

I walked alongside the ocean

And I heard the screams

Telling me to toss them in

Everyone of them

And I silently listened

To the roar and the pounding surf

And I obeyed to the christening of the folds 

And the panting of the water. 

As it beckoned me. 

I thought at that moment I would toss in the words

and I would never hear from them again. 

And peace enveloped my soul. 

Another season has passed 

And I am calling upon the words

The sensitivity

As I so keenly need to listen 

and hear them chant once more.  

What I thought I had lost

Has now remained. 

And I must tune my ear to the cry once again

The pounding of the surf

The sand beneath my feet. 

No more. 

Nothingness again is calling to me 

The Days of Hunger

 We exist in the days of hunger and revolution.

Viral expansions of those crying for morsels of warmth and justice

Tranquility yet to be mourned...

"A piece of bread would buy a bag of gold." 

Is it apocalyptic or a figment of the imagination?

Hearing what our itching ears want to hear.

Deafening and defaming the shouts of our children.

The charades continue in capitalistic

Labyrinths of humanity encircled by the mazes of our soul preoccupation.

Shall I dare ask for a crust, to dip it in the milk of mankind. 

 Gently awaiting the weeping and reaping of another, mangled in the excuses of violence and bloodshed. 

The moans of our saints lie in spattered streets while the sheets enclose the mutations.

Silence shall be broken.

We exist in the games of hunger and revolution

Silence the cries.  

Unfolding of the Journey 2012

To pluck or be planted

In the moist dry soil

Trodden

A seasoned

Time Under heaven

Through birth or death

To kill or heal

That is the question

As the dry leaves break down

Manifesting

The lack of crystals and emerald blades

Weeping will build

Upon the laughter of frowns

To mourn or dance

That is the dilemma

We shall embrace

And throw away stones together

When we refrain

We shall number the lost

Not keep

But purge

The sewn silence

The word of Love will be spoken

Not Hate

Peace

Not War

527,040

"Five hundred twenty seven thousand and forty

How will you spend them?

(Inspired by Ecclesiastes 3)

Happy New Year!