A Little Bit Of Sunshine

In the late afternoons we meet, under the avocado tree Enshrouded in the fragrant canopy of leaves...  We draw circles in the sand with our feet every now and again, a fruit tumbles down for us to eat. And oh  how we eat...  You chew on my thoughts like decadent pastry I sip on your words, tangy yet refreshing. We paint the air with our hands  And carve our names with our teeth,  marking this place for eternity  As the sun dips low in the sky We  stammer and trip over simple words,  suddenly shy  It is time to say goodbye.  You have your obligations and I...  I'll be just fine you'll see. Until we meet again, next week Under the avocado tree 

When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Tree or seed?  See? Now was that so bad?  Why won't he get out of my head?  Why are you so afraid of everything?  Surely there's honor in trying, no? Answers : I've been avoiding mirrors of late.  Actually it was, I've just grown stronger for it. It was difficult for what I knew difficultly to be. Never belittle a challenge conquered.  Is it love, or you just wanna feel enough? I think fear can be a good thing. It pushes me, corners me in a dark alley. It is quite exhilarating, coming out alive. Being tossed into the fire and coming out refined. I am acquiring a taste for it.  No less than there is in dying, I suppose. 

07:00 am I awake in a tangle of  limbs.  The previous night's questions linger on my skin.  Who will I be? Where will I go?   07:05 am ... A quick shower washes all  uncertainty away...  Head held high, I start my day My mission, always, is to keep it that way.  08:00 am I eat sweetened fantasy for breakfast (freshly baked last night)  and wash it down  with a steaming cup of excitement.  10:00 am I've missed it, the hustle and bustle of working on my feet The poetry and politics of it all The exhilarating rush or fear, that any moment now the pressure will crush me 12:00 am It never does.  And though I kick and make a fuss..  I enjoy it very much.  14:00 am The hours pass listlessly Slowly my head starts to droop to my shoulders  By the time I return home, I am but a puddle on the floor. 

I heard it whispered in the corn fields  Greying women with aching backs Who, at the mention of the news,  lift the corners of their mouths a crack All at once they begin to clap.  A shift in the breeze,  says one A humming in the forest trees ,  chimes another  A fragrance of something to come,  chanting at once A voice carried in the Southern wind,  cries one A wink of light over the horizon,  sighs another  The tremble of giant footsteps,  shouting altogether No one could agree on what they had seen But they were certain of one thing.  A change was coming.  A call to order A cosmic gathering  These women, our great grandmothers mothers stood amongst the flowers Envisioning the life that would someday be ours A culmination of their prayers and wildest dreams Answered in you and me We are the blossoming of a 1000 year old seed the slaying of an ancient foe...  The fusion of target and arrow  A harvest fully ripened and sweet A long appointed meeting... Have a seat, we apologize for th

Soft Spoken : A theme song My words are in the habit of walking down my tongue like a red carpet, requiring hours of pampering and powdering before they're ready to leave. Other times they'll hide down deep, extracted only by rescue team. Artist featured:  kiyanochka Quote : by me

You never used duct tape to make me quiet The words " shut up " went unspoken.  You didn't need an iron grip to keep me still But you've always liked me better when I was silent Found me prettier with my mouth closed Any words I spoke shrank you like a stone You became so cold A distant place, no longer home. That's how you keep me under your control ...speak over me in attempt to smother my voice  And pretend it is my choice. You nod in approval when I am tight lipped You tell me the world is easier to swallow with my mouth zipped You treat my opinions like weapons My honesty it threatens, your calm facade My 2 cents land like hand grenades My breath sharpens like knives The echoes of my mind, slice through the air like a blade I've learned to scream without making a sound Sometimes I can't sleep at night because the quiet is so loud. PS. : I often wonder, should I have a child...if I will smother her cries in the night, and is doing so for my benefit or

"I hadn't  even known  it was lost,  until I discovered  it again..." The steady flow of creativity is still a mystery to me. Sometimes a tsunami wave washing over me, other days but a small sip in a paper cup. Still the words, they come. They always come. I'm never comfortable until they do, always certain that I've just been lucky all along. It may take a day or two, it may stretch a few weeks but they come to me. I realized they're always there, waiting for me (and they always will be). What a precious thing! It was never lost, I was. That bleak year of 2019 in which I couldn't write. Of course I could, maybe in ways I didn't recognize. But we're here now, somewhat wise. Wiser? Here are my most significant writings  : (of the year) 1.  To Whom it May Concern  - June 24th I consider this piece the trajectory that started it all (again)...because isn't that it? A cycle of planting and reaping and planting anew. I learned no longer to crave the

It's the second day of the year and already I've managed to gain a regret. I had an uncomfortable conversation this morning. Words were exchanged. And no matter how much I tried to lighten mine, they landed quite badly. My first instinct was to wish I hadn't spoken at all.  I've done nothing wrong, says a quiet voice. I communicated how I felt, the best I knew how. I can no longer put blame on the listener, the delivery or my thoughts for existing at all.  My cowardice is my own. Tip-toeing around the truth, swallowing my feelings won't make them go away. The truth must be spoken no matter the taste. I'll take being understood over a false sense of piece ( *peace, this was an actual typo and I'll take it as a sign, how I can't even spell it)  Conclusion : My main worry was that I've possibly ruined/stained the new year, which confirms that I believe conflict is "messy" and appearances matter to me more than actual peace.  I'm nervous a