Maybe

If I could not see
maybe I would listen to you

If I could not hear
maybe I would see you

If I could not speak
maybe I would sign with you

If I could not move
maybe I would feel you

If I could turn inside out
maybe you would know me

Wanderlust Pt. 1

Scents
awaken
sleeping
memories

Clouds
paint
sweet
futures
against
stormy
histories

Travels
create
paths
where
strangers
meet

Footprints
reveal
treasures
beneath
my
feet

Language
explains
nothing
lost
in
translation

Slow
dances
move
us
toward
interpretation

Music
sounds
the
yearning
in
hearts
that
hide

Dreams
reveal
our
truth
sleeping
inside

Winter Captive (Haiku)

Winter Blues will once
Again send her to slumber
Dreaming until Spring

Ex-inspections

Upon our meeting you mistook me for the sun

I hated to disappoint your expectations by sinking in the sea

I am jealous of the rain

It has less pressure to perform in the Spring

Alive

All the things I have become. All the ways I have surrendered my beliefs... to the Tides that will forever wash away that which was never mine. I surrender to each new enveloping Wave so that my Vessel can be replenished in translucent Waters of Truth.

It is in Joy I dance unapologetically keeping close company with my Pain. And in Pain I keep sight of my deserving Joy.

The Wind sees to my ever-changing path lifting me in the times my feet stick to familiar ground.

The Sun urges my growth and from its Energy I fuel my Passions.

The Moon keeps watchful light over fluid dreams conceived and each will birth in its rightful time according to Her cycle.

Breathing rhythms of authenticity echoes the internal sound of my soul. Stretching through fear, moaning through loss to become Perfectly Undone.

My Voice whispers in the trees and hills and with the beauty in all living things as it longs to Sing in the perfect balance of Harmony.

I commune daily with Mother Earth as she is our first mother. From her unselfish womb we were once birthed Whole and where we will once again return as she will recognize and embrace Her Own.

Spirit un-caged will fly upon Freedom's wings. Unsung melodies soar mine to new heights Angels who took flight long before guide me to my Center.

For I am not from before but Alive in the Present and will not be later. It is in the Now that Truth will tell my Time.

Sleep speaks needing no translation

I didn't have much sleep last night finding myself back up half the night reading and writing. I did go back to bed but once I woke, I just couldn't really wake up so I ended up sleeping the whole afternoon. The one dream that seemed to take the entire period of slumber was with myself boarding a plane in which the passengers would be able to jump out and skydive. I was so excited (In real life I have never done this). I boarded the plane only to be left out of the experience. Once voicing that I had not taken my turn, it was then too late because the plane had dropped too much altitude. The window of opportunity had passed. On each flight I was helping the others with their fears and securing their equipment. This happened three times before I awoke with no skydive of my own.

Though our dreams often taunt us with mysterious symbols to decipher, this one spoke very clearly to me.

Have You Any Dreams You'd Like to Sell?

I begin to morph into a hibernator when summer decides to smell more like fall in August. My depression wraps around me like a 200-year-old quilt displaying in it's patches my travels, my passions, and life mapping scars. I embrace my depression because she is the only one who knows who I am during this season.

I meld to softness of slumber. Sleeping is always my refuge hindering thoughts that could paralyze me. When my head finds it's last impression in the center of my pillow, I can be surrounded by daytime repressions coming to life in a psychedelic trip-Angela in Wonderland.

This is where I can breathe and expand, fly and run. I can find my lover returning to me too late as he finds me kissing my favorite poet. I spiral down a dungeon within an ancient castle where many lost souls seek refuge; I look for a room where my spirit can hover and haunt. My favorite actor often comes and tells me bedtime stories in between white linen sheets. More often strangers take me to themselves and I surrender.

I may be chased by the unknown where I once could get a running start and flee in flight; my older soul runs and jumps hiding in tall buildings racing to empty elevators. Once I saw my own murder. I laid there stabbed and bludgeoned watching in disbelief. Most times I wake up comforted simply by being taken away from the conscious state. This morning the artist known as Prince showed his apparent adagio talents lifting me in air. Spinning me like a top he captivated his audience; once we came down, my eyes were his captors.

THE GREATEST SHOW EVER

(originally written in First Person)
SHE has a confession. She is a nice girl but you are often STILL intimated by her. Funny the lack of sense you have to notice that SHE goes too far only to leave herself behind. NO is rarely a part of HER vocabulary unless it really means YES.

SHE is an illusionist because while she CARES for YOU, she can make HERSELF DISAPPEAR. SHE can prop up smoke and mirrors while nimble fingers are like a snake charmer to your MANHOOD on that magic carpet ride.

HER sexual techniques have you asking where is SHE really from (Venus, Mars, Pluto (nah that one got axed) You know she has TAKEN you way past ever leaving. SHE is the unique and fantastical. SHE is all YOUR dreams come true while hers simply HAUNT through shadows while you play your favorite game of CHARADES.

She is master of potions in CHEMICAL romance. BUT SHE is the one DRUNK from your consumption of her .

SHE is the Madonna, the Amazon, and your favorite COURTESAN but never your BOY. SHE serves and entertains ever translating your thoughts with the grinds and sways of her temptress CURVES. You can't see HER though because SHE wears a MASK and you have it painted CROSS your eyes so even when SHE takes it off to breathe or maybe to take a bow (as this IS JUST a performance) you applaud and grope like her biggest FAN thus far.

She has left the building and you think she will do an ENCORE

and she DOES.

Desert Mouth

Dry, crackled earth woman
Thirst for rain
Sun her God

Her history a pocket souvenior
Death ceased dreams unrealized

Secrets an origami swan
Hope a hungry trick

Whore
she
is
his
fix

LETHAL COMBINATION

Call and Response

All or nothing

I speak believing

More than enough