When South is North

Pieces....

shattered

blown....

battered

The way it must

be

 

Broken

down

Blown

around

Riding the

rise of the gale

forces

Turned

Churned

Edges

Polished

Smooth

In the tumble

and the trials

of

riding the

wind that

blows

me south

 

I head south

to rediscover

my true

north

Magnetic

pull

Returning

to

cosmic

vibrational

school

Silent cocoon

of 

self study

Off to earn my

PHD

in

me

 

regardless.....

in love with your own dna
your own humble ways
your own face reflected in the 
glass with beveled edge
in love with this vehicle that
is you
regardless of the dents and dings
regardless of the blue book value
regardless of society's vision of 
perfection
in love with you
regardless

in love with what lives inside
the energy of your soul
the wisdom of your ages
the shine of your own edges....
beveled

some may label you a narcissist
or insane
there will always be a person who
does not love themselves ready to call
you their fear filled names
it's up to you to know your own name
to be your own power

my name i know
my power i allow
your opinion of me
matters not to me
don't you have more important
ways to tend to your time, 
really?

for instance ...you could be falling in
love with you right now

in love with your own dna
your own humble ways
your own face reflected in the 
glass with beveled edge
in love with this vehicle that
is you
regardless of the dents and dings
regardless of the blue book value
regardless of society's vision of perfection
in love with you....
regardless

Southern Songrise

Feast of flesh

Feelings fly

Fingers float

Faces flower

Blooming...becoming

Bottomless beauty

Behaving boldly

Bodies beholding

Wonders wide

Wispy white

Whispers welcomed

Wantonly wild

Peacefully playful

Perfect partners

Pleased profoundly

Passions pacified

Lovers lounging

Lovely lazy

Light long

Lingers late

Manic moondance

Magically mesmerized

Memories meandering

Morning melting

Sun soothing

Streaming soulfully

Southern songrise

Sweetest synergy

Fine Art, Fine Line

 

 

 

The finer art of love

The nuances, the

idiosyncrasies

The passion play

The making

The breaking

The making up

The breaking up

 

The art of fine love

The art of love, fine

The final art of love

The final act of love

The fine line of love

and lust

and hate

and trust

 

Lines in a play of passion

Rehearsed

Coerced

Playing with passion's lines...

The angles and the curves

The angels and the craves

The demons and the devils

The diamonds and the demise

 

The finer art of love

The nuances, the

idiosyncrasies

The passion play

The making

The breaking

The making up

The breaking up

 

Heart Prints

Treasure hunt

I am my own stunt

man

As I attempt to traverse

the land

Looking for diamonds

in the dust

of the settling

deconstruct

of us

 

Naked finger

Love's lonely

linger

A jewel long

sought

Dulls at the

feet of the battles

we fought

And yet, still, I know there

is hope

That's me at the end

of the rescuing 

rope

 

Let me pull you out

of the well

Let us break society's 

demon spell

We make our lives and love

what we want them

to be

You and me, shining again

No longer livin' in deep
chagrin

Place a ring of love on

a different digit of

mine

As we flip the finger to

the hill's deep

decline

We ain't going downhill

darling dear

We are on steady ground...

nothing to fear

 

Naked finger left

Hearts beating strong in

our chests

A new beginning, a new birth

of trust

Walk with me out of the

ruins

As we marry our heart prints

and footprints

with the diamond

dust

Deep in Burrow

http://www.twistedrootstudios.com

Coming home to me...
myself
In the falling of the
leaves half alive adorning 
the
trees of my life's
forest...
They fall freely
having served their
humble and
seasonal purpose
Unlike the tears
locked inside me...
myself
Hanging there, turning
in their array of many colors
in as
many moments
Yet, they cling to the
limbs, to the branches,
to the roots
deep in burrow below them

Below me...myself

Yes, a few chosen wet warriors 
have
escaped in a wind of epic
gale....
finding the respite
of the ground.....becoming
a bed
for the dreams of new life
to be realized in the
nuance of night
And the others, locked
here, tell tales of the cunning
adventures of those who drifted away
....awaiting their
own fairy tales to
be told by those who will
read them one day

Tears, come, fall as the leaves
in the Fall
Be humble in your purpose
Wash me aware....
wash me clean of the ache
living in my roots
deep in burrow
below me...
myself

Not Today

Starter's pistol cracks the

tensioned silence

Runners push off the blocks...

nostrils flared

Crowd responds....adrenaline

sent forth

The race is on

But, I will not run today

I will saunter, sashay

Meander in meditative sway

This a way and that

a way

Perhaps a hike of the foot hills...

gray

Hey, sorrow, get outta my

way

I've got a race to

not run today