Thoughts Wandering

There’s an intensity around here, sun bright squint, gleaming reflections from windows of cars, which honk and scream and sweat and bleed. Where there’s no time, but plenty of rush, whizz sipping caffeine drinks through paper straws and business calls boom echo through the streets, shaking core, grinding teeth. It all somehow melts and dissipates around sunset dream. And that’s the time I take my walk and enjoy the city, beautiful. Where the cars glide, people wander, sky’s pink, leaf is seen falling and heard landing and the joggers are out and the buses are no longer bursting at their seams with faces squashed to window scene. The dogs are out on their evening walk. And the drivers turn on their lights and patience shines bright. And here as I walk along Masonic past the Panhandle, I hear the lullaby of cars distant on Fell. And the sky’s still pink and the rolled up sleeve blouse breeze guides the way as I dream awake enjoying the beautiful city without a headache.

December First

Lost occurs losing time with things to do.

Saluting with sake in silence for lover’s first shift of long nights.

December. You got this.

Stack of books on desk. Patti Smith on pile top. The smallest of them all, making big impressions. Influences. With sake bottles and poems.

Ariel, were you worth eight bucks? Yes.

Impulse. Explodes unknown. Riding glorious. No questions, no control.

Feline and lace, always arm’s length away, except in dream where close we play and sleep.

Two years, no word. I’ve missed you Thought, said Pen.

Light Waves

“We fit so well together.” Belly moves like ocean as soft words float land in. “I can feel your smile.”

Cozy lights twinkle waves around lilac leaves of bed rest, stretch, play roll wrestle from yesterday pant to still and heart percussion slowing mind race track, rabbits and carrots fade away to nothingness and this is where it begins. A glimmer of infinity, sharp and soft, clear and fuzzy all at once, nothing is wanted or needed here, levitating in the midst of space sits peace.

Synchronized Chaos

Two mind bubble ploops got published in Synchronized Chaos.  It’s an awesome online mag with an abundance of links to other mags and schools that are looking for submissions on varied topics. If you love reading and or a’ writing, click the link…

http://synchchaos.com/?p=7018

OutsideIn

The bottle spun and landed on ambition, I puckered up and lent on in, sending a little submission something forward. You can read it here if you like:

OutsideIn Literary Travel Magazine

 

A Breakfast Bubble

“Hurt is like bones. When you are young and break something, it heals quickly. If you break something later, it takes a lot longer to get better and sometimes it’s never the same again.”

The Italian Zappa leaves, but his words remain like the poppy seeds between my teeth.

Never Straight, Always Forward.

People ask me, “Where ya going?”

I say, “I don’t know, does it really matter to ya?”

We all live in worlds outside of ourselves,

The only truth there is, is that of love

Where whisperings of, “I can serve you.”

Are met with, “For you, the world.”

Let’s Love Love and Share!

I love a gentle wind tickling toes, the feel of grass under barefoot, watching steam rise from a cup of tea, the plain simple surprising moments where a recognition of love is discovered making the ordinary extraordinary, the remaining foam from a soy chai latte sliding into mouth and down throat so very slowly, seeing smiles spread across faces reaching eyes that dazzle and shine, hearing children play, laugh and ask questions of magic born from innocence and intrigue, learning through experience, fantasising about a dream job involving a pickup truck, dancing nude beneath the moon, hugs that last past the common greeting beyond mind reels melting walls and barriers for a moment to exist where there is stillness revealing a space to be – a place for peace, walking through the city along the changing streets of neighbourhoods as day breaks and sun sets, hearing the tweet tweet chirp of birds, drinking tea in bed at dawn beneath the sheets beside a lover talking life, love and philosophy – here time does not exist, being a part of a most intimate conversation where words turn to murmurs, feeling feet on feet, floating higher and lighter from walking by beautiful colourful flowers blooming, asking questions, yoga, remembering to forget the things that don’t matter and living for the things that do, listening to others love stories around campfires, watching the clouds float by, hearing the ocean coo breathe sigh crash storm melt be and sing its lunar lullaby, playing pool, being groomed by another, preparing cooking eating and digesting good food, changes, writing letters to a special someone and finding a pretty view to read a letter from a special someone, laughing, free bins, dinner parties, sitting on the dock of the bay watching waves,  finding treasures on street corners or by trash can alleys, sweet seduction, the chase, the romance, exploring land and body, feeling hot breath hot lips and tongue slide from soft shoulder nibble up neck to lobe pull and suck, hot cherry tomatoes exploding seed and juice in mouth, live music fusion, the curious unknown attraction and chemistry of the heart and soul, snugglespooning, windows down music up sun shining heading out onto the unknown open road, collaborating and contributing to collectively create, hearing the jingle chime bell hum of a cable car slipping by, feeling wind through hair riding a bike anywhere, palm trees high in the sky, helping to make it happen, W. Somerset Maugham, seeing the distant heat waves make the city at night lights wavy. Love.

Your turn…

A Travelling Circle

“Whenever I’ve been faced with a fork in the road and didn’t know which way to go, something always guided me and it was always for the better.” says the gentle man, sporadically slipping through dream days.

His eyebrows are thick and bushy. As he talks they move amicably up and down like plump, hairy, grey caterpillars above soft brown eyes.

“How’s your love?” he asks.

His memory is good. I haven’t seen him in months, not since I carried my life on my back again through the rain. He is alive. I feel his vibe. My body rises. With the next thought, it falls.

“I don’t know where to begin with that right now.” I answer.

“Ok, don’t worry. Just keep dreaming.” He says with his soft, soothing voice.

He reminds me of a Dad I never had. I’m tempted to ask him to retell the story of how he and his wife met, the story his wife wrote a book about, but I don’t.

“I really believe dreams are all we’ve got, I mean, really.” He says.

I can’t see his lips; they move a fuzzy, seal lion moustache over the dry beach plain of his face.

“If you take away a person’s dream, you take away…everything. There’s no harm in dreaming because you never know, they may come true.”

A Brief Moment in History

In tent, half moon and stars shine light land trees, pond drying, grass damp, kissing hot lips in cool air, hearing distant sounds, like a Gladiators arena, savage men shout, cry, anger anguish.

A small animal dies, snatched by the mouth of a fox, a surprised yelp surfaces, cut short by silence, the end of life accepted by nature’s ceremonious hush.

We snuggle spoon, release energies up to the moon and fall asleep gently rocking on each other’s body waves, waking before the sun rises and the tent melts.