The Calling

What is calling when my lids rest and the brain rambles down paths
it is not the birds twitter tweets
nor the dog's grumblings
or the owl's hoot hoot

it is Words.

Words sieve through my brain echoing my day
echoing the unfilled space of desire.

Calling me it sets the future in motion
as lines
             on a map are drawn
as letters
              on a page are written
as reactions grasp
                            within my brain

Call me.
Call me into dreams                         Call me into fantasy                   Call me to make reality
You ask me
what is calling?
it is Words
                 of all shapes                    and colours

of all la langue                                and fonts

They bubble and flick across my gaze of sleep

squeezing t h r o u g h the g  a  p  s in my brain

to produce more than Words

thoughts

              sentences

                             worlds

-------------------------------lines-

Words settle and d

                             r

                               i

                                 f

                                   t                     away

re-group reunite fade drift

they rest dormant underneath the To-Do Lists:

1. Dinner

2. Books

3. Computer

but as my eyes fall and my body numb

the Words call me.

Demand attention as the bat demands the night

they take flight to feast on the unnoticed events of the day

Words fillup the space of        sleep

to cause tired eyes, scribbled pen undeciferable words

nonsense yet maybe no

forgotten           lost           faded

a seed to be cracked crushed made anew

in the rays of half light

in the wake of day

Sonshine

The Sun Sun Sun Son Son
glitters around
in spaces of emptiness
Son leaving lines of new beginnings
through the tree tops
through this heart line
until the Son shines
shining down onto the Sun.

Exposed

Cracked blue bowl leaking my salty saviour

Blushing hot in this blue light that plays along my wrist

Daisies dancing along the rim of the eyeless pit

Sand flavoured soup wafts flesh in coils

Hugging my brain. Smoothing the cold crinkled mass.

Although ad hockery poured in china crockery

I am comforted by my psychedelic sensations of

A cold cottage on a dead hill, alone.

Exposed.

To the nerve of Mother Nature who spouts consistent liquid sunshine

So I lift the chalice to my lips and gulp downcast eyes and creased foreheads

Drizzling it down my bare throat, tugging at the skin

Pulling it down easily, like the cracked walls of Rome.

Leaving me utterly

Exposed.

I Know

I know

Look me through the eye,

What can I see?

A rain drop scattering puddles

Boots smashing mud

Splattered faces crying,

With love.

Eyes look past you,

What do you know?

Tears taste like chips

On a wet windy beach.

Waves dancing onto rocks

Ignoring fog.

You look right through me,

Am I even real?

Red scuffed shoes,

Seared to my feet

Scolding I should have known

About the heat.

Sunlight

Hello everyone, in light of yesterday (International Happiness Day) here is a little poem that I wrote. Enjoy!

Sunlight
Sun glitters on my eyes
those blinding specks of white
that spin and block my sight
Are those those moments that people smile at?
Are those those moments where giggles surface?
Lids shut
I prefer the multicolour
of closed eyes
these are those moments of smiles warming my skin
bringing the heart out
gently
gentler

The Momentary Snow

The momentary snow.

It clings to the naked trees

Turning, spinning, laughing,

He grows with the cold,

His body folds, frowning.

Under the weight of the sky sea,

I catch a star on the lash of my eye,

But when the sun breaks from a cloud,

The snow sinks into the ground.

The people continue on their way.

With nowhere, really, to go. 

Forest Fires

Forest Fires

The sun bites,

Its juices screaming.

Brushing heights

The mountains teaming.

Painted trees,

Their leaves burning Red.

We can’t see

The souls of the dead.

Marching slow.

They’re filled with regret.

I will go.

You seem to forget.

All will die a sudden death.