Lioness

If you want to have

the patience

the endurance

the persistence

the impervious grit

that it takes

to make it to your truly desired destination

then you have to feed your soul

If the Lioness is restless

pacing in the cage

you keep her in

then she must be let out

to wander the sanded ground

slip and weave through tall dry grasses

to envision the prey she is created to stalk

If she roars in your chest

again and again

until your arms ache

and your throat is sore

better perk your ears  

you best listen

because that means the lioness

is hungry

and you must feed her

You best listen

so you can decipher her language of pursuit 

an invaluable interpretation

for it may tell you what she is longing for

You best listen

and take note

of the hour

sun or moon

in which the growling starts

in which the howling stops

it is in your best interest to anticipate the frenzy of feeding time

You best listen

so you know what direction

the feline screams may be going to

or coming from

You best listen

so you can tell

which wise the thunder is moving

as it circles around the landscape

You best listen

so you can feel

how close it is getting

gage the quickness of approach

the elevating volume

the speed with which the intervals reduce

For if you fail to listen

to the lioness

If you do not pick up the intimation of her reverberation

lack the sensitive perception of her palette

If you neglect to learn the rhythms of the midnight hunting hour

disregard the patterns of the trails she is wearing through

the roar will temporarly, unexpectedly, mysteriously dissipate

only the rasping of desperate panting remains

Exhaustion has set in

Voracity will take over

diminishing patience

determining the inevitable

For if the soul is not nourished

if the appetite is not satisfied

then the lioness will redirect her gaze

twist back around

and the path leading to the prey

may very well

take her right back to you

Monumentous

Monumentous events can be everyday moments

and everyday moments can be monumentous events

the first time your eyes met mine

was a monumentous event

I will always

vivdly

remember

exactly how you looked at me

how easily your soft hand slipped into mine

Darlin, I think that is when your heart slipped into mine

When we are together

every moment is momental

because no amount of moments is enough

When we are 400 miles apart

I close my eyes and I am instantly with you

When we are 40 miles apart

I cannot catch my breath

When we are 4 miles apart

my heart beat sends earthquake shakes

that rock my body back and forth

and ripple down each limb

When we are 4 feet apart

my skin vibrates and stands up to reach for you

When you are in my arms

I cannot tell where my ends and your begins

When I am in your arms

my thoughts relax into slow motion

The scent of your skin

makes me breathe you in

so deeply

so slowly

so completely

as if I have never smelled anything before

savoring every nuance to store
in my monumental memory

never to forget

When you are in my arms

the radiance of your heat makes me melt into you

makes me melt into me

letting go of any self conscious thoughts I may have had

For in those monumental moments

I am not one person anymore

When I am in your arms

I can hear your voice through your chest

through my chest

Every inhale, every sigh, every murmur

seems to go through my skin

as if I do not even need ears

I hear everything you are saying

and everything you are not saying

Feeling no need to respond

only to listen to the sublime reverberation

When you are in my arms

I count the soft brushes of your eyelashes on my cheek

I watch the blues continuously change

Diving into the deep ocean

every single moment I get the chance

Kiss the lids when they are closed

every single moment I get the chance

When I am in your arms

your cheek softens into mine

your lips soften into mine

your muscles soften into mine

your skin softens into mine

my pulse races

my mynd fills with the momental moment

and my soul comes home

every single time

I long to lay next to you

fingers entwined

with no where to go

nothing to do

but count momental moments

I long to sit at the breakfast table

fingers entwined

coffee cups to lose count of

dishes to leave for later

I long to ride in the car

fingers entwined

waiting for a kiss at each red light

until we get lost

I long for every introduction

fingers entwined

standing proud next to you

meeting each pair of eyes

I long for every twinge of pain

fingers entwined

counting each difficult momental moment

as a gift of time that I get to be with you

I long for the deepest of sleeps

fingers entwined

legs entwined

waking to constellations

that trace across your shoulders

I long for the sound of you laughing

fingers entwined

the silence of you crying

fingers entwined

the sharp of your anger

fingers entwined

the still of your peace

fingers entwined

I long for every moment

I can imagine

I long for every moment

I cannot

I long for all the moments in between

For if every moment

is lived with this fullness

with this ease of knowing

with this natural union

with this reverence of presence

then monumentous events can be everyday moments
and everyday moments can be monumentous events

Whispers

When the world around you gets too loud

When the information taken in makes you feel too full

When everywhere starts to look like nowhere




Go back




and listen to the whispers




When voices suddenly turn into shouting

When opinions start to rapidly multiply

When there are too many feet on the path




Slow down




and listen to the whispers




When wanderlust gets too wild

When the forks in the road won't cease division

When the brush becomes too thick for your machete 




Stop walking, and for gods sake, stop hacking




and listen to the whispers




When history becomes too heavy

When good advice starts to make you feel crazy

When the sounds of another's story stifles you 




Hold still




and listen to the softest, smallest, sweetest whispers




Please don't misinterpret

I value experience

I value wisdom

I value clarity

I value the universal

I value shared understanding

I am learning to be vulnerable

I am learning to be honest

I am learning to take care of myself

and I am learning to return to myself







For, I am doing it yet again

Looking to the 

external 

for something 

that can only be found 

within

When my incessant search outside myself

for comfort 

for answers

for direction

for truth

for resolution

Leads me into the middle of nowhere

Leads me into a mindscape I don't know how to traverse

Leads me to the cliffs edge of my sanity 

Before I leap forward

I must step back

from the edge

for just a minute

I must place my hands upon my shoulders

Pull me gently onto solid ground

Slowly turn me around 

Take my face tenderly in both my hands

Cover my soft ears with my strong fingers

Close my eyes with soft kisses

Wrap my long arms around me

and sing to me




"Do you remember me"?

"Do you remember me"?

"Do you remember me"?




Whether I am right or wrong

does not matter

Whether I am good or bad 

does not matter

Whether I am smart or not

does not matter

Whether I am a pillar of reason and logic

or bat shit crazy

does not matter

I am all of those things and

I am none of those things

I just am

I know me

I trust me

All I need to do is listen

Always listen

Listen to the whispers

Do not forsake yourself

The whispers are there to help you

They ARE you

They always know what to do

They always know where to go

They always know the way home

and if I know the way home 

then maybe I can have the courage 

to turn back around

spread my wings 





























































































































































































































and fly off the top of this mountain

No Fucking Fish

Always up for anything

is how I have been
described 

Always up to drop what I
am doing 

to do what someone else
wants 

Eat what someone else craves 

Go where someone else
wants 

Listen to what someone
else thinks

Live where someone else
wants 

Sing what someone else
wants to hear

Feel what someone else
wants 

Have the adventures of
someone else's life

How many times does one
have to do that 

and when does it become
something that feels normal

When do the scales tip

When does giving away my
desires and my time and my life 

become an intolerable
crime I commit against myself

When does it become
irresponsible to others 

to continue to neglect
myself

The sins of the father do
not have to be laid upon the child

Where is the line between
selfish and selfless

A selfless act is seen as
noble 

but it only is 

if it is
done with a cup that runeth over

If the definition of self
less 

is lack of self 

then what are you really
giving someone

You are not teaching them
how to fish

You are telling them to
abandoned their pole

because you have abandoned
your own

and the result is that no
one is nourished 

No fucking fish

No bread

No water

and certainly no wine







Why can't you stand
up for yourself 

is a question I have
always been asked

and now I find 

that I am the one 

asking myself that very question 

If you find that you
cannot stand up for another

it is probably because you cannot
stand up for yourself

Until all the marionette
strings are snipped

and they dangle from your
fingertips alone

Only then will you
understand the minutiae of affect 

that lifting just one
finger can have

because there will be no
more resistance 

at the other end of the string 

there will be no more
other 

to discharge my own discomfort into 

Only then will I see all
of it 

Only then will I feel all
of it

Only then will I stop
suffering 

Only then will I accept
all of it as mine

Only then can I choose to
love all of it

Only then can I choose to
change it

I will not be whole

Even if I am always human

I will not be content

No matter how still I try to hold

I will not be sure of
myself

Ever abating the relentless the grip of doubt 

I will not be of service

My cup will not be full


Until I experience 

the unconditional
condition 





































































































































to thine own self be true

Feed

I think
I glimpsed
the flickering sparks
of long stored reserves
of undiscovered rocket fuel
I can feel an ember burning
glowing brighter
everytime I feed it oxygen
Lovely smoke is rising
blinking as I walk through it
wafting
slowly
curling
around me
for me
from me
I am smoldering
in incubation
with desire
building
a little bigger
a little fuller
a little hotter
a little deeper
each day
Starting at the core of me
the red center
is spreading quietly
Sparks fly on occasion
moments of understanding
that whistle through me
bursting in brief firework displays
keep me blowing
on the bed of hot coals forming
I back away when the heat singes my face
However, it won't be long
A thick, seared and calloused skin is forming
not protecting me from
but merging me with
the flames that are soon to be born
Licking my face
Nipping at my lips
Soon to howl through me
like the worship of a full moon in the new spring
My forest will rage
fierce and fast
with illuminating light
the past lives of old growth
will create fertile ash
with which to nourish and grow renewed
Until then
in the winter of my soul
I shall crouch around the circle of stones
watch the shooting stars that rocket across the sky with anticipation
listen to the animals that emerge from my midnight
and sing beautiful
breath filled
stirring
soul full songs
to this accumulating collection of pulsing embers
soon 
to be
a reawakened
inferno

Jan. 2015