there is a space on the shore of a great big sea,
it waits for the chance to occupy me.
where waves spread their white foam all around,
and sunshine rays dance from above to the ground.
encircled, for now, in aquamarine bliss,
while my body slowly melts in to sandy abyss.
my mind begins to crumble, i fight to resist
the incoming tide, moons erasure of this.
looking out to the horizon, a fuzzy blue line
separates me from you, a division of time.
and when i look rather close, i think i can see,
the dark outline of the bird who got away from me.
my soul becomes damp, saturated with tears,
so thankful that water can wash away last year.
with my eyes shut tight the only sound i can hear
is the beautiful love song, never again for my ears.
i am transformed into sand under the weight of the guilt
for having burned down the house before it was built.
only one afternoon of emotional frost
was enough to turn to stone the love i had lost.
and what do i have, after all this, to show?
as the water covers my face my body sinks down below
left with the impossible wish our love would regrow
i want to feel the lifeline i need you to throw.
but the line never comes and i'm left drowning alone
in the icy dark recesses, so very far away from home.
green foliage surrounds and imbues me with grace,
overflowing with sensation, warm maternal embrace.

I know a palm tree can be coaxed into the direction of the newborn sun,
and beautiful children, asleep, do construe, fabrications-dreamlike-spun.
A gulf as vast as the eye can see, so vast, the voices will not sound,
dejectedly, incommunicable, we stumble past, filled with questions of profound.
Blinding waves of divine invitation sometimes tend to saturate the senses,
transference of illumination, like water, erodes away defenses.
Your clock, ticking slower now, will purify offenses,
Be a good neighbor:
avow to take down all your fences.

Confined, sitting in an artificial box
   separated from the random spontaneity of everything unknown.
Mandalic wisps of multicolors dance
   straight through filibustered time,
   a self-contortion, succulent in the movements
   of the same set of societal programmings.
Sip the brew and animate the senses
   a habitual re-performance resembling
   any other monkey out there.
Patience is a virtue, suddenly becoming
   crystal clear.
In the background of the show,
   the master navigates his puppets
   in seemingly variable fashion
   an undulating experience that demands attention,
   screaming like an infant for some affection.
And we oblige.

Evaporate yourself into thin air
don't be surprised to find it was always there,
for eventually every molecule must
transform itself back into dust.
And the recommended medium for your transformation--
Don't be surprised, that's right... evaporation.

Evaporate yourself into the sky,
up there you'll find the answer to why
you are never to return below
where monkeys cry and bombs explode.
So much clearer things seem with raincloud observation,
dirty water is best cleaned-- the process of evaporation.

Evaporate yourself into wide open space
and feel the omnipresent NOWs embrace
a chance to breath and to slow... things..... down......
dissolve away into the space profound.
So next time, interrogated, the source of your elation
I would kindly pass along this advice:
Evaporation.

And I slip into dark places too,
you are I and I'm just like you
If I fall down and scrape my knee,
I'm just like you, cry in agony.
Why can't you see you're just like me,
what harm will come if it can be?
And I slip into dark places too,
I'm rarely sure of what to do.
The sides are slick and hard to climb,
crawling out seems like a waste of time.
And far above the sun does shine,
I'd rather be sipping from it's red wine.
And I slip into dark places too,
this facade sticks tight with super glue.
So maybe today I'll go find the sky,
and perhaps tonight, I'll sit and cry
Either of which seems equally fine
Though to the former I feel inclined.
And I slip into dark places too
You are I and I'm just like you.
A free fall that last indefinitely,
the bottom still to far for me to see
what waits to break this infinity?
On the illusion that we will be.

Unending, incessantly being eaten alive
as if inside the thousand-bee hive.
Unnecessary commotion, no purpose or direction,
a constantly changing, morphing reflection.

To busy, most times, to see it exists..
However, now gently, I'm tugged at the wrist...
Once again, politely obliged, I just can't resist....!

Obscurity

Spiral staircases directed heavenly to cloudy gates,
where marshmallow men load cargo freight.
Spinning, free-wheeling in unlimited space,
out of mind drips infinite grace.

Slipping on the ice your feathers reveal
the coconut, Scarborough fantasy wheel.
Spinning, free-wheeling through sonic vibrations
Colorfully far-gone are beautiful sensations.

White magic rabbits and blue-orange skies
fake plastic trees with sunshine in their eyes.
Strangers stopping strangers just to shake their hand
while the peanut butter lunch box radiates golden bands.

Confusion, the emotion behind which we all hide,
hiding from the creature they've created inside.
Crazy, the thoughts swirling through every head
Heading in that direction until they fall down dead.

Then its rolling green meadows of rubber-skinned whales,
waving and obscuring all the intricate details.
Blindly accepting what they wish not to deny,
the rooster crows once and dissolves into the sky.

Giant wire-clad poles that stretch into the air,
they hum as they service the polka dot fair.
"Step right up and don't be shy"
the map points down if you want to get high.

Where am I? How did I get here?
Who do I know, and why?
What am I? Who am I? Why am I? How?
Is this real? (Whatever that means...)
   As the cat from Schrodinger,
      I am neither here, nor there;
         on this side, or that.

Further complicating this mess.