all it takes

I think

the sun is crooked...

and the moon,

what happened to the moon

I blink, shake my head

rub my eyes...

its all the same

and now dizziness sets in

digression; mutation;

a flower like a closed fist

blooms forth,

unhappy becomes happiness

  -  morphological derivation

is that all it takes,

adding a new affix to

the base word

a forceful resetting,

looking at the charts

to plot a new course

I raise my hand

to straighten out the sun...

and the moon, 

there you are again my friend

(Corpus, photo by Louis Blanc on joeinct.tumblr.com)

delicate days

Isabel...

I am lost

it was a delicate day

when I last sat before you

in praise of your ease

and beauty

my troubles then 

laid thick upon my spine,

my hurt had gathered

heavy in my heart

I had one direction

and the end was set into

Time's forward march,

there would be no undoing

but wayward travels 

led me to your gardens

and I found myself there

where poets dream of 

dreaming

you moved me...

I was calm, I was focused

and clarity began to thrive,

you saved me from myself.

the years have gone by,

I am troubled once again

now mired with uncertainty

and the fragile heart of

love

you are nowhere near,

so I return to you in a 

memory as lucid and true

as the day I sat before you

I look upon you 

gazing at the flowers in 

your garden, so peaceful

so content... and again its 

you that moves me

I seek once more 

the calmness, the focus

the clarity you can provide

with such ease, such beauty

I am lost Isabel...

the heart that exists in this

aching love is so fragile...

these are such delicate 

days

("Isabel" by Betty Branch at Brookgreen Gardens)

no ammunition

poisoned bullet in the

gaping wound

teeth sinking in to draw out

the shell

mouth covering the gash to

suck the leak

I spit, I spit, I spit and

I spit

desperate, frantic in this

self-survival mode

but, I pose no harm to my

aggressor

I respond without violence,

without revenge

giving no ammunition to the

seething force

(Image from edfreeman.com)

the fence

"over there is the spot

where the flies have amassed

around the stench of skin

hanging from the fence

most who have tried 

to escape from themselves

got caught on the barbs

before leaving"

he rocks in his chair

fingers tapping the armrest

eyes scanning the twisted

wire, everyday assessing

"I won't be sitting here much

longer. no, I will find the rare

opening. sure enough, I will

find it"

he rocks in his chair

fingers tapping the armrest

hopes drooling from the corners

of his mouth as he mumbles

(Image from istockphoto.com)

susurrations

... so I just left,

drunk already

and empty

packed up the necessities

bought a fresh green bottle

grabbed the turnpike ticket

and drove

made it to Jacksonville by

the first light of sunrise

thinking of everything

thinking of nothing

walked on the beach

sat down in the sand

stared at the seagulls

under the soft pink sky 

morning mellow susurrations

erased the complications

with a tear

I smiled

got back into the car

and kept driving...

you $ you

(Unknown internet image source)

you $ you $ you

bathing luxuriantly

in your micro visions

while the macro world

dissolves in chaos

shiny smiles gleaming

from 1st class leather as

the fluffers come and go

at the snap of your

fatty fingers

heads are squashed below

the fine hem of power suits

but the blood never dries,

you have people to take

care of that

you have people, you have

things. that is your world...

to "have"

I don't believe in eternal

damnation, but I do for you.

I'm a hopeful man.

I hope you get to have

your hell.

(Image from bitchute.com)

the last lines of blue

life is becoming

a series of small

letting go's

clenching hands

opening up and

releasing 

diminishing greed lies

winded and sullen

somewhere distant

and strange to me now

  its late afternoon and

  evening is approaching,

  I'm just starting to exhale

  as the day is cooling off

  the sky's changing color

  and my eyes are fixed upon

  the last line of blue

  left before black

I'm feeling what its like

to slowly fade away

but I'm enjoying it more now

and soon

  in the midst of a deep

  perfect darkness

I will leave

dark breeze blowing 

through my hair

dark breezes

       blowing

don't let it

surprise you

(Gif from unknown internet source)

storm

(Gif by surfanimations.tumblr.com)

these winds that 

rush to shore

show no mercy

this ocean that's

stirred up,

these waves that

come crashing

care not;

I'm exposed

and vulnerable,

isolated on this

fragile tombolo

waters raging,

stance sinking into

golden sands

contemplating

unmade decisions

and how I got here

in the first place

(by Robert & Parkeharrison on requiem-on-water.tumblr.com)

moonrise

splendor of moonrise

gently rolls the tide

this opulence of night

warm coupled bodies

a meld of understanding

and smooth desires

music of the breeze

floats below the staff

in murmuring notes

turn to me, kiss me

salted shores of necks

and lapping lips invoked

(Moon over the Ocean, Marianna Foster. fleurdulys.tumblr.com)

(all or nothing)

interference of light

on the perfect pattern

and you become real

or so it seems

a hologram, intensity as

the storm outside stages

your image in the rain,

lighthearted and exuberant 

you stomp in puddles with

rain boots and giggles

as I watch from my patient

seat, a spectator

you are lovely, elusively

I call out for you but your

silence flows like curves

in a cycloramic dream-state

escalation

cuddled privately to bare chest

snuggled secretly to pulsing neck

turning this dour down day into

something warm and pleasant

the evening is raw skin and

a winking sun sneaking away

the night is hands and lips and

whispers that crawl from tongues

we fold our morals neatly pressed

and stack them in the bottom drawer

introducing wicked wild and uncouth

in ceremony without etiquettes due

(Image from doghouseempire.com)

Lady Gasoline

for want of fresh fire

but not the need

already aflame in your

own safe space

giving pleasure to the

familiar hearth

body is the blaze as

the heat rises;

am I nothing more than

scraps of tinder

soaked in happenstance

and spray residue

potential pyre aside, the

latent affair

nothing... nothing... after

the initial burn... nothing

(Gif from havenandhearth.com)

down here

good gods live on

high mountains

to stay away from

those who pray

stars shine from

so long ago,

no longer there

accepting wishes

it comes down to 

you and I

gods of each other,

lights present in our 

own skies

I still have hope

(Image from soulsauce.tumblr.com)