Unimagined

1.
closed fists
Opened lips, and breathing
Fire, with the good in me, treading
Quietly while being pulled down.
You say something like,
“fuck you fuck you, fuck you.
But I love you, and I’m tired..”

I paraphrase.

2.
Seems like there’s
Less light coming from the
Sun these days.
Cold is as
Old as time.
Slowly, we have been brought
Closer to where light can not
Touch anything. Not you, not
Me. Not you and I.

No shine.

3.
If I could exclaim my point.
Hear and be heard clearly,
I would say so, if I had
Something to say that is
and then I would jump as
Light through the branches of trees.
To shine down.
Down on you, down on me and
We could reach each other

Outside of words

There, surrounded
By nature, its gasping
Synchronicity,

So lovely,
On its way toward what
We say, is
Down.

☮
Copyright2017sunontiepost

……

 

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Little prayer unscripted

Let me just exist as a smile

And certainty of love by sunshine.
When the winds converge with
Fists, let my arms and heart
Open wide again,
And again with understanding
Not ignorant bliss but what it is
You need and we need to move
Together.

Let me understand the roots so
I can reach toward the sky in an
Innocent love wishing to leave it
Behind and so last somehow
Forever.
Copyright 2017

Sunontiepost

Incubus, Just A phase

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Abandon

What’s rising up inside is silent

first. This is not cheerful but

feel for where it is coming from and hold

yourself still

your tongue too, as it comes up further

reaches the places where

razor wire has grown like a cancer in your

body, running hot in your veins, still be still

though it commands your mind

to suffer along side the wrecked and ruined

heart and tremble

tremble.

Do not reach with hands

this place

over time, runs the silver down your face and

further along you will learn how to break

over and over

you will learn to

abandon.

 

©Sunontiepost 2016

 

 

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Evolution In Rachel’s Garden: pt. 1

for Rachel

I almost forget the Foxgloves but

remember them setting the red

watering can down.

Their dark green poise

cries out, wildly, against the canvas of colors

that festoon the deck I call

Rachel’s Garden.

They must be thirsty too, so I

drew more water, more blue crystals

imagining their tender roots reaching in darkness

determined to be strong as above

their long curved lips dream

and drink from the sun.

I pour the meal like rain

coming down over the center as

suddenly the cicadas wake

wind out their song together,

a fluttering ancient whine

from the trees, that also dream,

also drink

I need time to think

hoisting the red watering can in

Rachel’s Garden.

Copyright 2015*Sunontiepost

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