Churning Tides

Sweet tides, undercurrents honing

Calm your nerves churning.
Anxiety the restless of your moaning shore;
Can we just calm and back away from the surface brick wall?
Just to an ease, where your moanings are no more?

I need to slide into your rips, allowing to be pulled under
And the transition eases me into a synchronicity where breath
Is calm and peaced,
Beneath a wailing sea..
Mourning in moon tides.

While in Church

It took me a long time,
To sit and realize,
After years, years...

None of it mattered really.
Not with God everywhere,
All the time.

Then the pushing,
The worries,
The strain...

Just seemed to go away..

When I realized life isn't here to strain us.
Rather,
We are here to be free; gain freedom.
And that freedom,
Is God's easy life in me;
Through me.
As me..
As breath.

Damsel's Menial

Damsel. Distress. Tired eye.
Something wicked this way comes.
Evolve
Dissolving, birthing
New pathways
In all ways
Always.
The Sun like shadow's beam,
Casting through trees
Where there is refuge there for me.
Not in her per say
Or even me...

But rather IT.
All around.

Each blade gleams;
Life force energy much greater than me,
Than I can ever be..
Here so human
And discerning.

The breeze, something else entirely.
The beating of hummingbird's wings
And the sound rustling through the trees.
The gentle flow like beach breeze,
And it is a slow rush..
Ever so
In the quieting down of times.

A slow rush.

Everything seems so menial.
Life. Death. Love. When u have this; IT. Outside. For us to see.

Outside.

And what tomorrow brings or means seems so trivial,
Though yes,
I'll cry over it.

Though yes...
I shed my woes
Like a kindergartener learning a new world.

There is a part of me
That stands on some foreign block.
Just standing, and holding for me
In this realm what I still not yet know.

She stands. Holding. Everything,
Already seen.

So when it comes,
I'm not so surprised...
More and more,
Just watching
And waiting,
For those moments to arise-
The ones that cause heads to come to heads
Hearts to figure out lost sights...

Waiting and watching...

As all those moments arrive.

It is a slow rush.
Watching the tick, tick, tick of animals and bees.
Watching in my loving friend the "just be" of four legs and the animal mind-body
He seems to be.
Nuances. Stopping. Watching. Sniffing.
Nuances..
Underneath everything.

And today, I'm just tired.
Want another break.
Two coffees and nuances, nuances
All day.

Meanwhile Gloria has me In wait;
Not really much wanting to give anymore,
Not at all thrilled to take.

I watched an entire garden get pulled
Because we call them weeds.
Now there, barren brown.
She tires me. Cleaning up her barren brown.
Treating my Organics with poison,
All behind my back. Just cuz.
Just cuz..
That's what she does.

So everything I work hard for,
Is quickly swept away by this woman who claims to love me;
Menial.
She doesn't know love so well.
Maybe,
Niether do I.

Maybe..

But it's worth it to try...

Sitting here in the afternoon breeze,
Watching dogs
And breaking in between...

Haulting,
For a breath or two, just a few,
So I can catch my stance again;
My way, a way, to keep going.
Learn afresh.
Find myself.. then..
Create something new.
New for once.

For once.
For once.

The Business of Haters

Taste it. But watch.
Watch the "at first", subtle rotten-ness
Wrap your tongue in decay.
Tasting it.
Their word speech-
Like a bad seed.
Like something once sweet,
Rotting the entire apple away.
Gossip,
Delectable at first. Juicy. Biting temptations...
Needing more,
As not teeth rot away
But whole Mind-body-souls condense into a withering form;
Not needing much anymore..
Decay.

Watching their tangents take life away from healthier branches..
Watching their souls become hallowed as demons teach the art of living not off of good, nor light...
But off of something
Much more victorious for them:
Blood
And
Life.
Lies the pillars on which these demons stand
Training and breeding
A zombie apocalypse
Many
A century
Ago.

They call them humans.

I see our demons.
And I'm just wading in the light, filled up to my waste,
And letting the demons taste my wrath as before I settle to haste.
They kiss me; intimate and long,
Before I slap their intent and deny them their longed victory.
I may play...
But not without a quickness to remember Who I am.
Who you are.
Why we are..
And how it all matters.

So yes..
Believe it!
Gossip, slander,
For what are tabloids without mindless chatter.
You can not break God's reasoning...
Nor the man by which whom stands tall in such fate.
You can not raise your hand to me and expect that I will not see the raising,
Nor can you denounce by perception the fragments of God which you hate you can not understand.
They will be there in your face,
As I walk, unhaulted..
As I climb, unjolted..
As I feed off your silly slander and remember all the times I never raised a hand to your name.
Hate me, and I will eat it like food.
Create me, and never watch me be real to you.
Do..
Really..
As you please.
Because my journey has nothing
And everything to do with you.
As I am but a simple
Strategic,
And yet most complicated and equipped muse..

And as you speak, speak, and spit my name,
Just know I'm doing MY damn job...
Getting
To
You.

As I was contracted to.

So love me..

As you go on to review, reskew, and hate that I am not fitting where you want me to.

Just love me,
In all your hating.
I know, you just can't stand
That non of it
Changes
Anything.

Namaste.

Different Wall

Generations contained in molecules of tears upon my face.
I'm seeing my being slammed against a wall,
But there's a warm embrace.
The sunset graces the lighting, in Angelic Flora,
Golds and brights
Oranges to nights,
And some under-current that when I go home, I will be embraced under my Bayou's Banyans.
She is a tall tree, wide and sheltering.
The reality fits contrary to the spiritual;
Viewing a puzzle piece that seems not to suit at all,
Viewing the stature, in a seed.

There is a lot there, between her and me.
Unspoken, and felt, like telepathy.
Empathy...that thing, He claimed not to be.

Looking upon that face, it is as if I am standing before a Bonsai, tiny, intricate,
Containing secrets of the universe, unknown..

Yet, when I go home,
To no home,
There she is,
Titanic, and somehow sheltering ME..
Unknowing.
It easy.
Like breath, and nature innate.

There is a profound star gaze in her eyes; some wanderer to universal skies and destinies..,
And here she meets me,
Where I might be loved for a short time...
Loved...
And loved well.

Where we can wander together for a little while,
And hold hands,
And keep the other's soul.

She is my tree,
My friend; me.

A reflection I journey to keep.
Prayer bound
In colliding destinies