Crisp Meadows

Crisp meadows
The crisp meadows ignore the summer sun. trees drape over the view of the lake. beautiful orange rays glisten through the leaves of the trees and the waves of the clear blue water. The birds whistle through the breeze as it carries them by, and here I stand alone in the middle of such wonders. There is a boat, an old two-seater boat in real need of a new paint job. As I stand the breeze welcomes me with its sweet flavors and aromas. I shall stay at least as long as it takes for me to find out what happened. I can vividly remember being here some time ago. Something that shades my mind even on the coldest days. I just dont know where this is or how I got here. I just walked in or maybe Im dreaming, but how have I been here before. The vines climb up the cliffs hovering over the lake so high it nearly blocks the deep blue background of my surroundings. Bright crimson flowers and lily pads. That boat, why is it here? I shall try it out for myself. The lake is even more graceful out on the water. The water is warm by the sun. There are so many fish about me. What is this? a picture? a young girl is lost. The sun is beginning to set behind the tumbling cliffs. bright orange and pink shoots on the boats rim and the waters gentle breaks. as the cliff lights up I can see so much more, the name of the boat "Justice" and I am sinking. There are dark grey clouds rolling toward me I must swim out to shore and find shelter before it rains. I wont leave this an empty void in my mind. all is left for silhouetteand the fish begin to eat. The moon is full and peaking through the clouds and the stars are by the billions. I can see a cabin ahead. I never caught sight of this before. It is so cozy and welcoming and the lights are on someone must live there. as I approach the cabin the flowers are at an extremely odd bloom. Everything is brightened with huge roses and tulips tall grass and daiseys. Wind chimes ring and whistle in the wind. theres that boat, justice by the cabin. How can it be here when it was just sinking in the lake beneath me? There are bars on the windows and deadbolts on the doors. Its raining now, when I reach to knock on the door it creeks open with the lock hanging from the knob anticipating my entrance. It is so alive and clean in here and still i feel familiar to it all. I walk down the hall, "hello? is anybody here? " I spot a door that has been shunned from the rest of the house, boarded up and locked by its dead and dark appearance. My curiosity can no longer wait. I bust the door down with a kitchen chair, and the walls crumble down, dust is blown everywhere. the lights go out to the whole house but one lamp in the dark shadows of this room. It is a child's room, I hear a tune coming from the radio I recognize the melody instantly, a music box i twined as a child. I remember the song but where is it from? why does it hurt so bad to hear it. I quickly shut it off, unplug it, but it still plays. What are all these ashes here for? something bad has happened. once I pulled the plug to that nerve racking tune my world fell upon me. with a big rumble the walls began to fall and I slid under the bed, my bed. The dust made an uproar as it engulfed the room. I began to lose conscientiousness within the lack of gasping oxygen. when I woke up I remembered everything. that was my life, my home, my tune, and whenI gave it up I lost it forever.

Roses

What are roses without their thorns
except that of their petals so soft
awaiting to blossom so bright
a token for a smile
plucked as to be sacrificed for love
they fight and scratch the battle
they are tools of messengers
Your fingers drip red with blood
a vase to place this creature
it crawls inside its outer petals
Scared in anticipation it sits
you pour water like mercy
it rains down along its vein
you take it to your love
with the gentle brush of her
fingers along its face
it turns to stone and brakes
she cries you comfort her
the rose turns to ash and thickens
she smiles, what for though?
she pours the mixture into her hands
and molds you a rose
A rose without thorns
A rose of opportunity
A rose of chance
A smile is born, strong it stands

The Pitt

To be dragged face down trying to grasp the floor, reaching out for any leverage hoping to find your chance. Sliding quickly towards a deep black hole. Sucked into gaping mouth and made thirsty by its quenching need. Falling fast lost in the feel of empty sky. Scared anticipating the crash of your body upon the hard surface of the ground. deep into the bottom of this Pitt waiting to splatter your blood and pool out your soul in this dark hall. Blinded you lose concept of up and down, lost you sleep. And he waits. With his heart beating louder than air in guilt his eyes lay sweat upon his face. With a smirk like non other he stands there out of breath. His hands straight down the sides of his rugged body clinched in fists of weary, such an act so uncannily manipulated all but for his fury. Nerves of lightning strike through his veins in up most terror. so much to say a crime of passion. And as he stands red it rains in such a loud fashion. he hears nothing but the echo of his dripping fingers. and although it drips thick from his hands, remorse and regret are absent, and all alone he stands. For he has done no wrong but put a beast to sleep. Forever it will stay and yet never will it weep. For he knows hes done no wrong but release the beast in me.

The Maui Beaches

Like the leaves of a healthy palm clashing in the wind, the waves of azure beaches crash on golden shores. Like the breath of fresh air from somewhere never been. Like the calm crisp clouds against the deep blue sky, the breaking waves crash right on by. Just as the sun comes up with every waking breath the sun goes down to set before we rest. Its the way our fists relax from the tension and stress how hibiscus blossoms clean an angry mess. Like a thousand angels diving into the steepest lives, the water falls gracefully and never asks why. Like nothing ever known before we look back and could never ask for more.

The Blue Jay

Sitting under an autumn tree with the wind in my hair and the leaves in the cold breeze. Looking out at life and watching as the birds pass me by. There is a sweet warm sensation of hope for one day someone will sit by me under this old autumn tree. If only I could reach out to them like the leaves or fly out to them like the birds. So gentle and quiet it is, so strong and yet so alone like me. For I am a blue jay and they are all sparrows.

Lost but we don't know

What are the pieces of inspiration that configure Resilience. So desperate for help we conjure such imaginative things. Lost but we don't know. Deserted we beg for hope. Resistant to the hostile. Hungry for the strong. But lost still in the needless inquiry that one day things will change. Oh such imaginative things. Naive we act like we know of nothing else, so much to be revised. So little left for time. We forget to recognize our personal surroundings and allow worry to overcome and encase our very bodies as if to be condemned into dragging the weight of another. So forgetful we are, but we mean not to hurt. Our intentions are a wander, as heavy as the pounds we so ignorantly drag. And we are quiet but we are sorry, we just cant find the words, we are lost. Lost but we don't know. We are wrong but we haven't learned for we are not to be taught. But we are sorry. We mistake and confuse love for warmth like dogs that beg for food. Upset by hunger confused by the masters greed. Jealous by instinct but we mean no harm. How do we cope when those we love are so blind and lost. But to learn and be taught to find hope in the darkest crevices of passion. Everything happens for a reason, you just have to find the why. And know its meant to happen. Some way or another this “why” will become a because and it will be required to find your way.