Money is a trap
You have to work til you’re in the grave to stay alive.
If you’re waiting for me to drink the Kool-Aid, which you clearly are, don’t hold your breath.
You will die.
Maybe I should move aside and relinquish the reigns to someone who is “invested.”
All I can be invested in is doing my job to the best of my ability, not making money for a company whose goal is to make money.
That is hard, if not impossible, for me to care about.
I will give you my 9 to 5′s and will serve them up with emoticons and laced smiles. But I cannot promise to genuinely love what I am doing. I don’t mind it. That is the best you will most likely ever get from me.
Center myself
to the center of a tootsie pop?
One…two…three!
Perhaps go to my sweet spot?
Or is that too vulgar?
My hiding place?
But I live in a shoe box…
Center in the depths of my mind,
between the folds of visions and dreams, the layers of wishes and what ifs,
rest among ambitious thoughts that never set sail
Pulse racing
When it goes, all my senses rally to drag it down
b e a t b y b e a t
calm thoughts
deep breaths
views of my eyelids
settle each muscle, let them relax
hang
Liquid tongue in my mouth,
dropping jaw
Temperature falls from my forehead and exits on a cool wind through the tips of my toes
Nature
Picture the “eat-breath-die” cycle of a peaceful animal kingdom
Reinvent our calm, belly to belly, with only myself standing here
Dream of possibilities
Wonder what is unfolding in a small fishing town on the other side of the world
Realize these moments are fibers in an elaborate tapestry, snowflakes in a daylong blizzard
Be at peace
Be.
Q1-Q4.
The ugliest sort of calendar.
Financials dictating time.
What an awful way to count your breaths on this Earth.
Flowers gracefully unfold,
mummy movements with time-elapsed photography.
A shortage of bees in the world…every spoke on the natural wheel provides stability, altering harmony when it is tampered with.
Even a winter wonderland can be ruined
White striped walls, granite tweed
Natural decay – designer of the millenium
7 point buck, head still attached to torso
Creatures in their own hoods
We are the foreigners here, yet again we entitle ourselves to it all
Waterways created of snow maneuver the mounds meticulously – surgically carving art into a storm’s afterthoughts
Serenity. Simple. Happiness. Surround us.
And you let a witheld irritation melt it al.
How much truth is there in the stars?
In Zodiac signs or the strings pulled by the waxing and waning of the moon?
Are they like fables we make up to placate children?
Scapegoat star configurations that allow us to blame behavior on a symbol in the sky?
My Gemini twins can’t decide…
Family, what a lovely thing.
Like a warm blanket from the dryer that can sometimes burn you with a zipper but generally makes you feel at ease.
Girl of my dreams
Black tresses, tangled
Perfectly disorganized
Electric shock marionette
Vocal dominatrix
Face of the shadows
Pierce my heart with the filter-covered heel of your thrift store boots
The grunge of your mouth anguishes me and I achingly convulse to the dark intrigue of your art
