The places that I’ve grown up in
Have informed me of who I am
The tides of island waters
Have shaped me like the sand
I grew up like the skinny palms
My skin kissed by the sun
Birds of paradise greeted my window
And everywhere did I run
I’ve spent some time in humid suburbs
More than I’d like to admit
But it’s the times spent in nearby mountain creeks
To my memory, I do commit
The places that I’ve grown up in,
I have shaped them too
I took the oceans and the sands
The mountains and the little woodlands
And to my heart, I did imbue
I wonder then
Many have as well
What our purpose
In this world
Do they occur
To the common salamander
As she rests
Betwixt the underside
Of a rotting log
And the mossy ground?
I don’t think they do.
Just as she - the tiny and color splotched salamander, does
Prancing her joyful dance on the forest floor after each fresh rain
Digging her soft fingers into the moistened ground for grubs
Migrating from the water and wiggling to the forest and then back again
All the while these wonders occur outside her musings
Just as she,
So too will I
Hold That Head of Yours Higher
I am that which moves in the night.
I am the dark, yet I am the light.
I walk through the world with power and ease.
Never will I not be felt, never will I cease.
I do not preach lies with wisdom and mirth.
Be who you are and act what you’re worth.
Hell is not what you have heard.
It is not a place and not a word.
Hell is inside the weak and broken.
Hell is the one who lives unspoken.
We are not frail, we will not give in,
To the rule of others and their own sin.
Fight for yourself, live as you desire.
Because Hell is in you and you are the fire.
You and I
Indeed, truly all I need
Is but a simple kiss.
Would most surely
Come skidding to a halt.
For her, I do not need to think,
Becomes second nature.
To what ends would I not go,
To present her happiness abundant?
None come to mind.
I would be bold.
I wish to impart.
Linger but a moment more,
And I am yours.
It’s a Cold Night
As I hold you in my hand
Blood drips from your nose
With each gasp you take
You lie in wait
Then suddenly a tremor, a surge, a pounce
And to your side you flop
The concrete is growing colder now
But I quickly try and scoop your jittering limbs back onto my palm
And stroke you as gentle as I can manage
You remind me of my younger years
And I'm sorrowed seeing you now
Bereft of your own
Rest in the north field
I hope your night is warmer
With the cloth and leaves I bundled around you
Whisking you back to the summer days
When you were born