Stuck for words, puzzled,

Always looking for meanings -

.

.

.

.

.

Learning that language?!

I the humming vibration

The soft indigo cloud

Becoming by cause of desire

I the karma

I the effect

A transition of essence to

Organized separateness

I the bold voice

The sound of the Universe

That comforts the defeated

The lost

I the pious disciple

That struggles on the circle's descent

Withholding breath

Constricting heart

I the liberated wanderer

Unbridled from ego

Serving all beings

Trapped by suffering

I the dedicated listener

Offering my ear

May I understand your fear

May you hear the silence

Of my compassion

I the failed lover

Blind to my own self-worth

I cling to you

I the fearful

That can't choose

Birth or death

That must accept one

For the other to happen

I'll catch your tears in a cup 

and I will tilt it to my lips to swallow the pain

that you feel in your chest 

I thought I could sleep tonight 

but I couldn't stop thinking 

how I can't help you 

I wish I could cradle your head in my arms 

and whisk your pain away 

the cup is breaking in my hand 

because I don't think I can stomach it down 

the salt burns 

I can handle it, just one more cup 

I promise I can handle it just keep pouring 

All right, you guys... I know this ain't Facebook, and I apologize to anyone I need to respond to (I promise I will tomorrow, been a crazy week) but I just figured out what's going on.  

So here's the thing, Debbie Reynolds (Carrie Fisher's mom) just confirmed passed, likely a stroke.  :(  

My theory is this, despite my non-Christian beliefs, this is a celebrity rapture.  The super sensitive ones went before the proverbial shit hit the fan (Michael Jackson 2009, Robin Williams 2014, Prince and David Bowie early in 2016), the ones who could stay a while through the bullshit of the past few years lasted longer.

We're so entrenched in pop culture, first world, reality TV, God (source, universe, etc.) figures it'll take some really good ones, people we'll notice, and that'll get our attention just enough to perk our feelers.  

I sincerely believe things are about to get real bad up in here.  

They're getting the hell out of Dodge, y'all, and they're gonna be spared what's coming.

Better pull our knicker strings tight... 

That's my prophetic soap box speech for today. 

My resolutions are

Not weight loss

But exercise more

Not stress less

But appreciate more

Not clean my mess

But organize life

Not finally find time

But make time

Not write more, right?

But, RIGHT, write more!

Not find those to love

But love more those in my life

Not hope for good things to come

But find the good in things that come

Not wait

But celebrate

Not -umph

But triumph!!

Not, "Oh well..."

But, "Hell, yeah!"

Not passive

But active

ACTIVE

The words that once flowed

are now squeezed out, painfully

drop by Crimson drop

bleeding out a Rorschach blot

on a white background

just more proof of my insanity

I feel like I've lost a part of myself, in losing my trust for you.

It's not that I don't love you,

It's that I don't believe you love me.

What hurts the most,

Is that you refuse to prove me wrong.

You were a magnificent beast

The brightest sun

Against the bluest skies

You could grant no kinder gift

Than non-judicious kisses

Unexpected, repetitious

Without repent and smelled like fish

A powerful white frame

That stopped the average passers-by

To simply stop and watch your gait

Or to remark about your hide

And now against the moonlit sky

You outshine the brightest stars

You were a magnificent friend

In a country that is not my own,

I perform my 10-15 mins daily commute.

I go by bus.

It has a ticket controller

From whom I also buy the ticket.

I can buy the ticket

In the local language

And more often than not

We don’t even use words anymore.

But sometimes I wonder

What if she addresses me one day

With a simple question like:

“What do you think of the weather today?”

Would I panic?

Would I smile?

Would I sheepishly reply I do not understand?

Or try my shot?

While I wonder these things,

The bus halts at my stop,

And I get off.

Other times I wonder,

Should I ask a question?

How would she reply?

Would she understand me?

Would I blow my cover?

By the time I build my nerve,

We stop again.

I guess it’s hard to break habits

Once established.

I’ll start bringing my book.