Dear Me as I Used to Be, just wanting to experience all the colors life offers
Buckle up, Soul, and get ready
To careen down to yon planet and inflict your incendiary presence
as fall leaves fall
in this season of contemplation
I reflect on summer's fading song
be sensible and bestow upon your will a ferrule of encouragement
pull up your muffler and silence contrary thoughts
that may lead you to investigating odd ruins
I commit myself to following the motivating recipe as closely as possible
my song for autumn
singing the health of your soul
in a society whose members value Christmas shopping over taking care of each other
humans have
no love
for anything we have deemed lesser
sometimes I sit alone and consider
family expeditions of spent years
I remember her
thirteen moons times seventeen
I know better now
from inside my bubble, or maybe from outside yours
I inscribed your name in the book of delights
I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in and found myself in a mess once again.
it must be your intention to become great
you must believe in and aspire to a surplus
step it up, speed up, hurry up and wait
It is still within our power to change the end of our tales
We don’t want to do anything that would inconvenience us
Mystic mall cops and maroon feather dusters
Time does not crawl, it hurtles forth like a bullet train
Crushing my memories beneath its merciless wheels
It took loved ones and ideas from me without a backward glance
But if I could find a filament of the hopefulness I felt
Perhaps I could sew patches over the holes in my heart
Maybe I could recall the feeling of the third Thursday in November
Pretend that tomorrow will just begin new.
New novel styles sweep us into the now.
Now everything we built lies covered in ashes.
Ashes of things that now seem unimportant somehow.
how would you bake pecan pie
good enough for compliments?
Lost and blue without a friend
humans, greedy and stupid
think with their stomachs
I hope that you know
I'm always glad to see you
beneath the sea of ubiquitous pretty faces
and impossibly slender bodies
courtesy of cocaine and starvation
I can still remember childhood thanksgivings
rising fresh in the morning full of hope
climbing from wrinkled sheets, up for breakfast
break the yolk of the egg to mop up with toast
the bird escaped clean
There are those who proclaim that I should be grateful
For my opportunity to star in the theatre of pain
running out of time as the money drips in and the reserves dry up
there is still no triumph as I trot through pelting dust to my grave
To the untrained eye
Some might find it a bit absurd
when I think back on the things that were
something blue glistens in my moss-rather-than-emerald eyes
how much longer can mother earth bend
before the bough breaks
and her children come crashing down?
~ornery owl~
prompts
Here is the soundtrack that I listened to while writing this
remix.
