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Vague Poetic Lines
What can I say that Rumi hasn’t already said? What kind of candid snapshot can I take straight out of my unbelievable days to blast on the internet? What can I say that’s different from yesterday? My mind wanders, but it knows it is these, the same old untreatable sores it wants to exhibit, like a fine view at the d’Orsay. The work that didn’t get done, the flame burning my home, the unanswered knock on the door, the interrupted dreams galore, the flower that didn’t bloom, the chrysalis that didn’t pull through… I’d be letting the world peek in as I speak, but inside, it’s like an old dusty…
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Life at Midnight
When the wind is breathless, the raindrops loud, and the trees swing from side to side; midnight The tender whisper of a loved one’s voice over a scary story at bedtime; midnight Through white curtains peek a speck of light, may be from a star, may be the tired street lamps; midnight A kiss feels softer against your skin and their touch, gentler on your thigh; midnight When thoughts are emotional and loud, begging to be unbound; midnight And the muse comes over and stays a while in spite of your heavy eyes; midnight Your silence, your joys, your sorrows, your moans; can all become homeless or find a home…
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I Want a House Full of Nothing
I want a house full of nothing; just a clean wooden bare floor, scented candles and a tall door. I want a house full of nothing; a mirror and music to dance to, red lipstick and perfume when days are blue. I want a house full of nothing; counter lights, clean toilet seat, hot water in tub to soak my feet. I want a house full of nothing; just a blackboard on the wall, chalk, words, and no phone calls. I want a house full of nothing; just one fork and one knife, red wine in barrels for the real life. I want a house full of nothing; a winter…
