slumbering catalyst

and i sit on the patio listening to rain
remembering that the world is love
but love is not the world
rhythm of the day
yet silence of the mind
is this peace?
i imagine so
and it will end with a beginning

of so many plans filtered to priorities
and so many hopes shelved

to read to a distant me
somewhere down this path
i have known, and known well

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why do readers read

informative
humorous
imagination catalyst
emotive stimulant
puzzle
sympathetic induction
curiosity trap

there are 3000 feathers
on a songbird
i wish i could fly
but that’s a lot of cleaning to do, isn’t it?
this is a hard, cold morning
it doesn’t lead to much hope
my love? my love for you is like the breeze
that goes against a bird, flying higher
born to count feathers, mostly
but never believe angry beaks
were you ever like me?
full of fear and diminishing failures…
twelve thousand feathers on 4 birds fly away
a failing body rises (oh i’m weak!)
to go inside and begin doing the dishes

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thorny paws

don’t know if back is fixed
or just shifted
a break
a reprieve
to center in
and remove
problems
the good days
and bad
could only be resolved
by understanding
that wake up
in a different
dimension
each day…the world
itself shifted

a childish thought
but misery has
little maturity

therefore this day is
not too bright
not too loud
breeze is not too
strong
and frame moves slowly
…though without pain

it’s more about
settling nerves
that have become worn
by pinching bones

it’s more about
right signals
than it is
about not being
able to live with
a wholely incorrect
backbone

so i asked to stay
in this dimension
to not move from
this set of variables
to humble what little
i have left of me

because peace of
mind
needs the right
signals
to move away
from exigency
with a power necessary
to overcome

my demeanor never
good at explaining
for though
you’ve seen me smile
does not mean
i wasn’t screaming
on the inside
with a body
moving about
in abject dismay

was taught
to hold peace
yet much easier
to let peace
hold me

with the pain
gone
and the day not
seen
through extremely
weary
decisions

now no sky
is falling and chicken
little is
going home?
or was all
along

but i swear this is
a world of difference
and i pray
that god does not deliver
my aging body
to others
where the vise
of inadequacy
is so strong
i see nothing
when looking outward

but me

the bee captured on film?
she was a blessing
for i waited

and finally
the breeze held
still
and the bees themselves
were unafraid
after a time

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On the other feet

What is a story?
A tale
A recitation of event
An example
A way to be
The portrayal of love
And death
And anger

A lesson
A way to think
A path to process

Words
Words on a stage
In a book
Told at bedtime
Make-believe
How to behave
Be have
Have what the hero
Finds

Follow the story
Follow the road
The path

Deep down I’m a strategist
Some days can’t remember
My own name
But I remember
The strategy
I created for every
Video game I ever solved
Can never go back again
And play it
Like it was the first
Time
Around

But a story I can
Reread
And discover
More of myself
More of the author
More of the bridge
The comprehension

It plugs you in
To every other person
Who also heard
The story

Raised to comprehend
With all these leaders
Weaving spells

What is a story?
A way to Be
A map of life
A journey through decisions

….right or wrong based on others
Choice
In the area
Of studying behavior
The story tells us who we are
Or who we are to Be

Thing Is
I feel my life
Is full of stories
Coming out my ears

Until my own path
Is dim…
Useless

Choice merely a joke
Because choose wrong-ly
And punishment awaits
Does choosing right
Make you rich?

See I don’t know
How to reconcile
All these stories….

After awhile they repeat
For we have only so many themes
Only so many angles

Comes down
To what shoes I
Decide to wear today

Feet that were
Never made for shoes
Feet that we’re made to grip
The earth
With toes made useless
It’s about walking in the footsteps
About follow the leader

Monkey see monkey do
And how owning
One pair of shoes

Might Be the wisest thing
On earth

What Is a story?
I got up today and took a bath
But so early that I searched the tub
For spiders, first.
Catch them by surprise
When it’s that early
We occupy space according to schedule
The soak only helped a bit
My back still feels twisted
And knotted
Yet I know the real problem
Is my nerves are
Feeling way too much
Every pain amplified
20 times
Like a computing
Infinite loop…..

So
I made coffee
And
Sat in
My chair

I stared blankly
At my tablet
Until I realized
I was staring blankly

My customized response
To an anxiety attack
Though it’s not like that!

It’s exactly like when
I was late getting homework
Done for school

So that’s what it should be called,
A failing at school attack.

The clench in the gut….
I could survive it
If it weren’t for
The clench in the gut

I worry that I drone on
A writer should be succinct!
Yet it’s not that kind of day
And this is not that kind
Of story
It will go on
Despite how messed up
I manage to be
The coffee still needs to be finished
And I might make the bed
It doesn’t make itself
Dishes need to be done.
Of course that never ends

Don’t know how I got so many shoes

I sit and look at them and
Know I have only 2 feet

So sue me
Part of me wanted to be normal
Though that definition is sure up for grabs

There’s normal
There’s sane
And there’s pass the buck

Some day I’ll find a fourth
I suppose
But most of the time
I just wanted to go home
And the ruby slippers?
Well….they got left by a
Crick somewhere
When I wanted to
Feel my toes with the grass

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Chunks

That kind of a day
Wanting more sleep
But the pain too much
So you get up
Because torture
Is not the way you
Want bed to feel

Left with hours
To fill
Read the paper
The Japanese are low
On their stock pile
Of whale meat
Hard for me to understand
We don’t eat whale
I’ve had shark
Swordfish
Vaguely I think
Of how they call
Scouting for herds
Research expeditions
How that just seems wrong

Poetry?
The sun rises over the mountains
But it is light before that
I face the west
And even the birds
Seem subdued
Quieter
As I sit among the green
Petunia flowers partially eaten
I can never catch
the marauding snail
Coffee tastes weak
And my eyes feel
Like they are going through the motions
Seeing only
The same

My heart is not heavy,
Resigned?  Dedicated
To beating
I couldn’t tell you if it
Is cold or warm out
Everything a shield
Here and not here
The sky a light blue
That looks rather flat
Despite the scattering
Of clouds
Unable to move quickly
I do anyway
Because I cannot
Let go of determination

Only my mind
Is slow as ever
Somehow noting
There is one bird
Bound to chirp
Despite no others joining in…
Sigh take a sip
Read the paper more
Try not to look at the dead sky
The eaten flowers
Nor the fact
That lingering dreams
do not breathe deeply
When there seems to be so little air

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