Some Sunny Stuff

Motion Sickness
The Tree is there.
Trunk standing still
as the branches
sway with the wind.
Trees surround me
and help me breathe
The Sky is our
ceiling in a room
we are all in.
The World is spinning
and I've never been
outside of it.
At night, we can peak
into the universe
in which we are
all less than a spec.
The Darkness of the sky
is like the center of our eyes,
and the darkness of a womb.
I wish I could recall
the first time I opened my eyes
to see the world
I was thrust into.






Instructions for a Sultry Day
Five o'clock
feel the shock
never to return.
Tie the knot
jump the lot
watch fire burn.
Six o' six
feed the chicks
some never learn.
Hold the goat
build a mote
now your turn.

Hit the deck
build a wreck
is this right?
Birth a tree
or maybe three
sleep well tonight.
Break a rock
leave the dock
darkness shines bright.
Touch a finger
ghosts do linger
but I'm alright.



Sentimental
A fire in his eyes
I wish to catch
A smile on his face to match.
It is with him I could detach
myself from a world
focused on what they lack
counting transient stacks
of money that
will never bring back
the time they missed
while in a vacuum that
convinces them to believe
in swollen pride and
empty needs.

Grab my hand and take the lead
through the crowds that flee
from anything foreign,
the flame in your eyes still roarin'.

Obsessive transcendentals
cross paths with aggressive accidentals
to explode in a world
that will constantly erode.
Beautiful minds gather to discuss
beliefs they have come to trust
and understand that
there is more
than what is displayed
on earth's vast floor.




Delusions of a Fairytale Wedding
Rarely do I ever
care about the weather
or invest in perfume

I keep things simple
I have a dimple
I'll show it if you come to my room

There is no way
to say the day
But in my mind that question does loom

I sit on a couch
They call me a grouch
But it's because I'm still waiting on my groom



Food For Thought (When Staring at the Ceiling Trying to Sleep and Can't)
Bright and shining moonlight
peering through winters
veiny branches
at twenty two strokes past midnight.

Forgotten is
the simple, pure beauty of
the moon that turns the tides and
pulls the tears from our eyes.
The beautiful existence
between the moon and ocean
and you and me
and the bird and bee
and every true thing we see
but omitted in the daily activity
trying to feed our existence
but disregarding why we do.
Seeking a truth that is, after all, too much
for our physical being
but we dig deeper and
deeper into the know
and now there's no way
out of the system that
controls us and the
rules that are made up
to have control in an
uncontrollable world,
these men of reason,
men of logic, they are
men of treason in this
world I'd rather dream in.
We control our own reality,
So why not cast out all the malady?
Perfection is not possible
within the walls of this
earth that man constructed.
So let's destruct it
and explore new realms
that allow for hope and ecstasy.