Experience and Color

Beautiful brown Redwood trees, blanketed in dirt Marathons in the dark deep earth Bringing us back to brown Never to forget its worth. We are a slave to brown Consumes us in our morning espresso

In our breads and chocolates Day to day we neglect shades of brown Dark brown hair and chocolate 'stache I loved you then, you and your beard. Never forget burning cigarettes Old brown books: philosophy Sad days come with brown History dug up from the past Always last Do we remember brown But from brown comes greens, reds, blues My colorful earth

Soul and Kindle

Stay in the woods for me

You shouldn’t be on the road

You should look up at the stars

And believe in what they tell

You will forgive them

Like no one I know would

Slip away into a smile and get lost in the trees

Never look back at what they’ve done

If I were the woods

I would try to keep you

I know what good it would do

Letting you soak in the silence

Closer to Truth

Pearl of the sky

Feast on the roots

A lesson on how to remain

whole

Your spirit does not have smudges and marks

Bruised or matted, Your spirit moves

A quiet storm

Lighting up lives and sending them out of the gloom

So wash it away

With soap and kindle

Light that fire

Deep within

and small sins

That fill you right up

to the brim

Will let you go too

Poseidon: Designed to Care

I am god of the ocean

and I am tired of the seashells.

They shift and crackle under my feet.

The sands in the grooves of the floor

the potholes that bubble and croak,

this music of the deep,

My reef to sea floor.

I once thought all of this, beautiful.

I've been Designed to Care for life in the great beneath;

for all of the sirens of the seas

who lure me to sleep; they sing

and bring me into the caves

underneath the shores.

But I know I will not sleep tonight

All I can think about

Is a young girl; drowned.

It strange that I'm finding myself solemn.

Whatever has become of me?

It started on a dreary storm, where it broke from sky to sea.

I saw a mortal man sailing;

He lost his daughter, Rosaline.

She hit my waters: a wild sea

and I did nothing to help her breathe.

I listened to her pulse slow;

the lights of her eyes dimmed low.

What became of her barren of body?:

Oh I should know.

They were just bones.

And I think if I had bones: if I was not just Faith and true power

That I would be crying, and tearing through the tides

Just to save her; that beautiful girl.

But I have to be the god here; the harsh spear.

I must do this alone; be sad of death.

After all the sirens are filthy, and I know,

that they will never understand.

They will sing songs of mockery

and ease me to sleep with their haunting, sweet sounds:

Teasing me with "un-death."

They will remind me, through and through,

that I will never join her.

I can never die.

As I walk below the waters, just above the underworld, I wonder:

Is there ever a day I might be undone?: Unraveled, like the mortal?

Can I never turn to dust and just become one with the earth?

I know I should not be jealous of life in motion:

even as bodies and spirits die.

The unsettling moment when I saw her last breath;

A gasp for air and a tremble in fear.

Right then, I knew,

I wanted to die right along with her;

to cease right alongside her.

Now

I wish I wish I could stop breathing, stop being anything

at all.

I keep thinking, "why? Why have I come to believe this?"

But the answer is here.

The thoughts slam against the shores of mind over and over

And It hits me: "perhaps," I think, "I loved a mortal soul."