Saturday, September 16, 2017

Like Her Favorite Hoodie


Photo by Alex Jodoin on Unsplash

She smelled of wild roses after the rain.
Especially on sunny days. 
They were only together when it was natural to be so. 
There was never talk of expectations. 
No relationship agreements, promises, or commitments. 
They enjoyed each other and the solitude. 
He was an artist without much financial success 
and she made movies, 
modeled for commercials and swimsuit magazines.
 He would laugh when his friends would say 
"What does she see in him." 
He felt accomplished 
in that he'd learned to dance 
with what the universe brought. 
She liked for him to read to her. 
He read the verses she loved the most. 
Recited classics and those she'd inspired. 
He didn't crave the limelight or approval. 
Cared little for awards, status, and recognition. 
He only wanted to belong,  feel at home with her alone, 
and be great at something. 
She just got him 
it was nothing he deserved. 
She was happy and at peace. 
Something chemical or quantum. 
Mysterious at least. 
They were a higher power. 
She felt like Scarborough Fair 
mashed up with classic Hip Hop 
with an ounce of country lyrics. 
Clearly, she could hear his soul. 
She purred in cuddle times, 
wrote her own lines, 
designed a life for them together. 
They were needless poetry. 
Forever was written in them. 

Thursday, July 13, 2017

Heart-spotting


By Annie Pratt on Unsplash
Love stitches up 
a broken heart
and rouses it heal.
Hearts daily woken
light up the mind.
A mind gently stoked
burns away many yesterdays.
Physiological signals
confess trauma points
to the practiced observer.
This is how an educated heart
scaffolds a lifelong learning mind,
allows for rewind and reflection,
untethers then frees the body.
It turns winter freeze
to spring thaw. 
You'll see things more clearly.
Hyper-vigilance no longer
feels itself drowning.
The seat of the soul opens
and gives birth to your lotus.
Find felicity and focus.
Understand love, mindfulness
and brain-spotting.
Then you can see the world,
or just see your world differently.

Saturday, July 8, 2017

A New Theory of Love

I like how we branch out,
individuate if you will.
We all still have the same roots.

Photographer Annie Spratt on Unsplash


If I study the rings 
of the tree
that I was, I see a longing
for the sky.

I wonder if functional atomic relationships
inspired that longing to become birds.



I am no longer a tree.
I love the sky. Even when
I choose to walk or nest.

There've been times in my life
I've been written a flight risk.

Nick Karvounis

It's true that I would often
choose velocity over subsistence.

As time passed by, I learned about
flight patterns and migrations.
You might say I became 
the Orville Wright 
of an inner flight. 
Rod Long

Then the longing was for something concrete.
I chose a slow and steady path toward
stabilizing the lives of people
who choose me. 

Srivatsa Sreenivasarao

I see the bittersweet fruit of it all in
the lives of my sons. 
Now, I'm something like an
Air Traffic Controller at a small
airport in a small town. 

Chris Leipelt


One plane approaches the runway
for a flight toward his dreams.

Another recovers from rough weather
but still, seeks to be transportation
to a new destination.

Fancy Crave

I hope they don't fixate on trees.
Above the trees, above the clouds,
are the jet streams.  

Morre Christophe


Maybe I'm their nucleus.


Thursday, July 6, 2017

a Lotus season

Lotus seeds wait a thousand years
sometimes for 15 days in the sun.
Then each of those 15 days they die
and are born again from within.


She is a lotus flower
who finds her protective layers
comfortable but restrictive.
While at the same time longing
to feel the sun on her petals.



She doesn't seem to know about
our past lives. She's written
the man I am today stranger than fiction.
She taught me not to remove
her protective shell even
to let her out.



I've cut flowers from their vines
before who died too soon.
She used to tell me I was careless.
There wasn't enough sun for her
to grow in my shade.



Time turned all she loved
about me into disappointment.
She said I changed.



She persists, reincarnates, thrives
because of the mud. Rises
on the third day. Or is this
the fourth? What day is it?



Everything she needs exists
in her environment already,
except me.



I am a thousand petals
she will someday wear
as a crown.





Wednesday, July 5, 2017

Whisper Me Words



Writing is for thinking
through the day. Its for
playing with words until
you make so much sense

of things that someone somewhere
falls in love with you.




Writing is for expressing emotion.
It's also for finding as many ways
as possible to say something,
or to say nothing that means something.

I hate when writers become critics.
I wish critics would become poets.




Whisper me 12 sentences and
I'll pay you $5. She said,
"speak directly to me, it's time
to stop orbiting and
come back down to earth."

It took me a bit because
up here it's so peaceful
comfortable and safe.





If I live long enough,
there will be human life
on mars. A planet that bears
its own scars. Has it's own
climate science. Signs of where
water used to be.





She was like water.
My writer friend said,
"Stay thirsty." So I drank
until I couldn't get my fill.
Loved the new drunk.
Stayed sober from my
punch drunk.

She writes I read.
I write she reads.
Spies like us bleed too.



Tuesday, July 4, 2017

Satellite Season




Oh to be inside her
and do anything
to ease her pain. 

She made it clear
it was ok to proceed
but signaled I should
proceed with caution.

So I waited. 
There seemed to be
no good reason
to rush things.

Love seems like
a letting go
while at the same time
negotiating
to see if there
is anything in me
worth staying for
for her. 




Without feeling like
she defines me
with her not wanting
or needing me.

She is about her.
I am about me.
There will never be
a we unless we both 
effectively negotiate it.

I am calmness and stability.
Calmness and stability can get boring.
I can relate. Some days I so love
a good thunderstorm.

If I had 3 wishes,
I'd wish for psychological freedom,
for you, me, and we.

Hoping that in that psychological freedom,
we might birth love and commitment.
Even if in some seasons,
we are nothing more to each other,
than orbiting satellites.




It takes so long to let
people be who they need to be,
while still having the courage,
to be yourself.

I found her in a kind of hell.
The best I could do sometimes
was wait until she chose to wake up.



Friday, June 30, 2017

My Soul's Vibrato


Ophelia:



I'm enchanted,
and I have been since Killin' Me Softly
It feels so good to be felt.
You might choose to admire me from afar
And let me admire you from afar.
I'm a wild horse who is happy untamed.
I'll dance sideways to stand close to you.
And I'd try so hard not to get spooked.
And if you're the one who gets spooked,
I'll still be singing songs about you
Years From Now.




Monday, June 26, 2017

English Vs. Hindi

English Vs. Hindi: Why is English so popular? I mean besides the obvious reason that the English speaking community has taken over the world. How did English end up being the language that ended up getting chosen? It…

Praying for word peace







Dogs bark in every direction.
The unfed bark louder
and become enraged as they approach starvation.
The dogs who eat still grow vicious
with fear.

Not only are the blind leading the blind
they are operating on each other.
The fighting fire with fire advocates
seem hellbent on watching the world burn.
In a twist, there will soon be too much water
that no one can drink.
The believers believe in nothing I can see
and the nonbelievers have formed their own
congregation. 
But I still watch for the helpers with love
as my operating system,
meditating to manage all irrational fear.

Ron Kennedy June 2017
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