LIFE IS LIKE A SWARM OF BUGS
Sometimes
They move in unison
But they mostly scatter
About randomly.
LIFE AS A DANDELION
Life as a dandelion
Breathe with the Earth,
let the drought grass stipple your
back and root you to
the network of wildflowers,
burning red with the noon sun.
A dry breeze brings the news
of the flies and wasps who dance
on shared leaves asearch for god.
The ability to live
with eyes that discern light
under a crystal sky.
Smile like a dandelion.
My stomach grumbles.
The peace tumbles-
my mind again fumbles with words.
Silence,
chirps the birds
as they fly by to Hippie Hill
for another eternal
sunset laugh.
Where we danced around
and hacky sacked,
pondering pondering
what would come next.
Strangers pass as
squirrels or cats remarking on
the pleasant evening,
exchange a greeting.
A pleasant day indeed.
Fractals of the dandelion,
a geometric light cut through
the gaps of my straw hat
to explain the devine,
it’s true we’re tuned to this plane,
hinted secrets laced in time.
What is we?
Why believe?
C’est la vie and show your teeth!
Living as a dandelion on a
path carved through
scorching brush.
Amor torres todos.
Green, red, blue, and yellow too.
I’m glad I found my journal.
THIS FELT EPIC (ft. Charlie Lyon)
The mirror shows you
what you really are, but you will
not look. You catch the image in
the corner of your eye, but won’t
turn your head. Dark secrets lie in
shadows, cast by wavering
candles. Glass shards littered on
the floor tell stories you can’t
remember. Or won’t remember.
The truth hides behind signs that
lead you in circles. Events unseen
by clear eyes, blue skies, fade into
the past, obscured by the
immediacy of the present
Is the mirror not the sign
that distracts from the present?
Is the turning of the head
not what spins you in circles?
Look down
and miss the sky as you piece together
what it might look like through the sparkling glass.
Look up
and sigh as the blood soaks your toes.
Is a memory just an answer
to the question
“Do I exist?”
Take another step
forward, CRUNCH! YES!
CRUNCH! NO!
Pull another petal and eventually
a dandelion loses its luster.
Pure black seeds litter the mirror garden. Gone by morning dew. Bloomed by afternoon. Shrapnel again in the evening.
Gaslight trash,
Novocaine homosapien,
do you feel the rhythm
of the universe?, the
quiet humming of
interstellar neon. Can
you feel the light radiate
out of your heart as you
grow towards Oblivion?
What sweet nectar
distracts, carnivores
browse, and life
continues a fastidious
Machine
The gears turn and we’re ground to glitter
like a meteor shower, sparks fallen on steam engines and creaking axels.
However the janitor
starts his shift, sore
from this morning’s gig and wipes the steel clear with Clorox.
Clock out,
tick tock,
the day’s wrung,
doubts of tomorrow, might as well jump from the tower.
Look, look a meteor shower!
Was it worth it? Just to shine
for a moment before
swiping to the
Peter Volpone 