Gut Giggle

Deep in the gut, a giggle floats up, sweetening a sour tummy to jiggle like jello covered in honey!

As you dance, a boy with a balloon, exuding passion through your spirit so real, so true, you are a perfect picture of youth loving life.

I’m so, so, so, SOOOO happy for you!

Each day the birds sing a tale anew, the greatest treasure of a poet is a muse. Mine is you.

A ladybug, invisible,

held in the sticky

yellow center of a bud,

blindly reaching

for the nourishment

of the firey sun,

rooted on the bank

of a riverbend,

a journey neverending,

with a wizard watching

ashore mesmerizing

waves swirling 

with his staff playing,

inspiring the circle

light to bursting

color into the world,

a hot hug of love.

a wonder to the light

Basking in the summer sun, humidity sucks upon my skin’s glisten so that hot and bothered, I try to talk to my lovely wonder out loud:

I ask the light, “Are you always this bright? Or do you actually know my soul, and that’s why your glow makes me so giddy I’m dizzy?”

(Talking to myself, I can’t fathom a true reply, so I go on, knowing that here, when I write, from my own truth I don’t hide🙂

“Your shine twinkles glitter and gold specks, mesmerizing my heart to melt into a fuchsia fusion of delightful energy, and into a slippery fall, I willingly tumble, embracing the dream with no expectation at all.”

(Oh, my dear, fear builds them brooding Indiana cornfield cumulonimbus clouds that tremble a thunder of doubt in the backdoor of my mind…

You’re still just a romantic fool by yourself, creating a beautiful reflection of a connection that you must have felt in another lifetime.

For the glow, I’m eternally grateful;)

Painter’s Song

blue used to feel black

Blue used to feel black, like a head whack! But, with a smack! back, because of you, blue feels bright almost a teal tropical skyline at dawn, shady clouds hanging out, shaking off the grey dew warmed to twinkle in the sun anew. When my melancholy mind is on the attack and all feels forever daunting and totally MAD,  watching you transforms the blue and tickles my soul to make even my eyes smile, reminding me, things aren’t so bad, just find a way to laugh;)

Grounded

GROUNDED! I am. Hope is like magic to me. In a hopeful magic-mirror, I see a side of me that’s happy, electrified with new prospects of fun, giddy to grind with lust on my mind.      

BUT      Magic isn’t real. It’s a con.

When my brain gets too excited, it girgles naughty thoughts, and it tricks me into creating a story I want to hear, a fairy tale.     

About my days, I go slow, eyes looking up, thinking in pictures of…  

what if I found a connection

with a passionate friend, who tickles my fancy, OH yes, a muse for my fantasies…     

Every look, every touch elevates your love…that’s how I wish you’d feel about me, addicted like I’m your very favorite thing.  

Melancholy madness, knowing my truth. No magic can make me hope something will change. I’m doomed to accept my lustless fate, so I guess I’ll just go back to sleep.         

YET         

(I tell you true, this is happening right now!!!)

A yellow finch just now called my attention from my red pen bleeding onto my notebook paper.

Wheels turning I had to ponder, What is this bird saying?

He just keeps singing louder and louder, then I spot him high on a flexible limb, a cloud white floating as his backdrop:

“STOP! LOOK UP!”

He sang so lovely, not at all like the other birds, a voice and rhythm all his own.

Then, a sparrow chimes, “Just live…and be…love life…reality!”

As if stung by the sun, my eyes close, the pain in my neck feels like a knife in the muscle just turned, so a frown pulling my chin down, I wheel back into the cold darkness of the garage and close the door with a wrist-flip, twisting the deadbolt locked.

Enveloped by darkness, I see the remnants of that circle of light and I blink a quick-

CLICK!

Like a photograph, within my mind, I snap-shot this moment in real time where the moon eclipses the sun making me feel warm, less alone.

(I hope you never doubt your worth! I long to show you how much I need you in my life, or I swear I wouldn’t have been able to hang in this long:)

Smoke Spirits

Let’s go back to before my accident…It’s 1990, a blowout bonfire at the end of school next to Midwest cornfield, I stood staring into the flames dancing hot waves, and I felt warmed deep in my soul, not from the heat of the fire, but as if an invisible smoke spirit floated from the bottom embers to smoke sucked up my nose.

I wondered then, as I do now again, if what I felt was true or just me way back when in a weird mood?

Tonight, with a puff of smoke (thanks to the dragon downthe way;)…

POOF! PRESTO!

Off to snap the net for the Mythology of smoke spirits:

World Mythology confirmation 👍

I now understand my reaction:

Smoke Spirits

Two smoke spirits ablaze

Dancing irredecent

Shaping shadows

Two smoke spirits escaping

Ethereal displacement

Rising UP

Two smoke spirits away

A Transcendence

Feet to Ground

A new go-round.

Face It

Cracked glass clouded by steam,

the reflection skewed reality,

my face distorted, monstrous!

That’s why I cover mirrors.

Sometimes, someone sees me,

wheels making me too obvious,

and I ponder what they think…

“You’re so strong!” One exclaimed.

Muscles atrophied to skin ‘n’ bone

long ago, weakness whittled

from could to should to won’t

with my soul my gut’s blackhole

sucking up good, bad ‘n’ all…

It’s not the wrinkles or dark spots

aging looks back and takes stock:

Who were you? Who’ve you become?

Does your soul just need a hug?

LEARN TO GIVE YOURSELF LOVE ❤️

SMACK

WHACK-SMACK! Reality’s back.

I twist my hair into a stiff bun, pick up my broom, sweeping lines of longing under the rug..

I’ve lived alone on the border of Arizona and Mexico, Phoenix, Flagstaff, Denver and Littleton, Colorado, and many towns in Indiana. I did alone well. I used to go to bars and concerts alone, restaurants and museums. I used to roll my wheelchair up mountains to take pictures, sail and rock climb to get high.

High is my current state of being, struggling to get by, OCD with animals constantly shedding, pain aching, pricking, and stabbing day in day out.

I don’t yell or shout, I never fight (despite the nitpicking comments thrown at me, blaming me for everything that goes wrong).

Silently (except in my head), I just keep cleaning up, dying to feel young, supple again, not an old wrinkly wench.

Dreams save my life, as a distraction from all my strife.

as I hit ground

Blinds block out what I can’t presently handle (my world small, PTSD producing morning shadows of past things DONE, dancing distructively on my walls).

SOOOO, daily I shout other people’s lyrics to not freak out, distract myself from a lack of stimulation my brain and body CRAVE, nay…NEED!

Pushing wheels round 20 years, one band, one voice (above-beyond all else) pulled me out of every funk, and this band recently came near my town!

No longer ready for an end…I opened a window, flung myself out, and I FLEW to see them play and sat in awe, observing the voices from their mouths make wild waves, travel from my head to core and tickle my toes.

A band of brothers swinging hips while playing, fluttering fingers singing notes of wise words shining night bright enough to ignite a fire in my soul, my dead heart PUMPED UP, feeling seen…full!!!

A new day after begins…

Sunshine gone, rain downpours; Reality came with tears, gratitude streams, THANKFUL I fingered a star in my small world.

And still reeling now, I can’t stop trying, I can’t stop writing, despite knowing full and well, I’m flying to fall…

Solace remains with a wish upon a heart POUND, with my groove switched back on FOUND:

I’ll laugh as I hit ground.