Street Musician

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When I first passed her

Whatever she was playing on her sax
Sounded more discordance than tune
She was not very good
From nerves or lack of skill
Who knows?

Then
Suddenly
I knew
What it was she played
In the Hall of the Mountain King
A piece I’ve always loved
And I remembered

I probably would be playing just as badly
If I was standing where she was
And I can’t even play the sax
It took a lot of guts

So I changed my thinking
Took my change from my wallet
Smiled at her
And dropped change in her hat

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Cataclysm

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The gods saw man
Weak in his mortality

They pitied him

Thus they taught
Sending knowings
And gifts
On the wind
Telling of the approaches of beasts
Carrying voices of allies
Holding aloft the seeds
Of what would become the food
The trees
So that man could care for them
About them
Eat them
Live midst them
Sharing the world
Thus did they give to man

But

Man cut down the trees
Slew all the beasts

Forgot all the knowings he had been given

Then

In his egocentricity

He proclaimed himself the equal to the Gods
And screamed at them
Within the wastes he had created

And the gods screamed back

Believing

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if
in a sorrow of sad life
we are not taught to believe in our self
then our existence can seem futile
our self unwanted
unloved
uncherished
lacking

BUT

if something helps us
somehow
to open our eyes
raise our heads
and see beyond the suit of sorrow we’d been dressed in
then
that day
the sun rises in our world
as we begin
to realize
we are a something
a singular act
a beauty
in and of our self
and on that day
the caterpillar becomes the butterfly

If I Told You That I Love You

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it would be like I screamed it out
into the depths of a chasm
where the echos would bounce and bounce and never end

and in the instant I had said it
it would be tarnished by my fearing
that someday it would return to me
and bite me in the ass

in my life so many things
felt so right
looked so awe filled
and seemed so wonderful at their start
but then
the crystal champagne glass that had been filled
fell
shatteringly
becoming slivers of insidious pain
walls of tears

so it scares me
that if I told you I loved you
that what we had
to give me those feelings
would have already ended
and I would be walking on broken glass
until what we had was gone
and it was time for us to go
our own
different
ways
and I would be alone again

Coral Reef

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There it was
beneath me
in water so clear
I felt I could touch it
if I reached out my hand

Rocks
sand
sea fans waving
saying hello in the currents
that flowed around them

Brain coral
like great corduroy balls
surrounded by long undulating leaves
that came complete with small fishes

Cracks in the rocks
filled
with small spiky creatures
sea urchins
small frondy creatures
anemones
and sometimes
creatures I only saw parts of
small tentacles

Sand patches between
strewn with stars
but instead of the glittering kind
solid
alive
with suckers underneath
starfish

Kites in the water
gliding
sailing
flat and dark from above
skates

All in silence
like a silent movie
seen only from above
like a picture show
for my eyes only
as I leaned over the side of the boat
on a bluegreen sea

getting dirty

This says it so well!

Words4jp's Blog

*

my life speaks in riddles,

my heart sings in rhyme.

my head

stands

in the middle ~

spinning circles till i am blind.

*

i know no things about any things

and

every things about some things…

along with everything about nothing

and

something about anything.

*

i am unsettled yet calm,

frazzled yet steady ~

typically ill-prepared to walk

but

always willing and ready.

*

*

what more can i possibly say,

about this person who is me

except

i prefer to stomp through muddy puddles

instead

of walking around them

and

staying clean.

*

*

*

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this was worth sharing

FracturedGalaxies

WeLivedInEchoes

We lived in echoes

Afraid of the present

Our lives fading

Before they ever began

We danced

weightless like

dandelion dust drifting

in golden sky

our drying tears

glittering in fractured light,

like silver shadows,

in an indigo night,

hiding in memories,

forgotten before

they are remembered

as past

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