Written for a Friend on the Eve of his Birthday

life

The body.

It decays, yet:

These houses of meat are but temporary things for our soul to reside in while we experience this world.

This version of reality and consciousness.

All of our souls chose this plane of existence for some reason.

It’s a class we’ve all enrolled in.

To learn things.

Soul things.

Like how to Love and have Compassion and to learn Acceptance—

this reality is an ultimate test in Acceptance.

This world has infinite ways to humble us again.

And again.

Whenever we think we know.

To show us what we must accept about others and ourselves.

We learn to yield our great capacity for knowledge and noise to our destiny of peace.

Of sweetest silence

and quietude.

The state from which we arise and to which we return.

And every moment our bodies persist is another moment to learn.

And wonder.

Every moment

is another opportunity for awe

And gratitude.

Dearest Friend,

you’ve persisted

and continue to persist—

these moments

this life

is a chance to find

new horizons of possibility for our souls

knowing that whatever we find

is what we’ve always been meant to see.

The weight of conclusions

and decisions

dissipates once we realize that the only way to live

is to live.

So,

as long as you’re alive

—knowing every moment is a reward that we’ve somehow earned—

—that has been mysteriously given—

please feel

blessed.

Please feel amazed

and unafraid.

There is nothing to fear,

these things,

they happen.

The body, it decays.

That is the world.

But you are a soul,

Dearest friend.

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To Live Like This

life

If you’re going to live like this, there are some things you should know:

You are going to fuck up. Often. People are going to question you. Often.
You are going to take their advice with a grain of salt.
You are going to prove them right. Often.
And then
You are going to prove them wrong.
And all you need to do is prove them wrong once
to emerge a hero, with a tale, a lesson, an experience that they will covet.
That they will exalt. They will tell the tale far and wide,
even though they were on the sidelines, giving their warnings  and crying foul,
because you fuckin’ did it.
You will be remembered.

You will have to fight against instinct.
You will refuse to acknowledge fear.
There will be fear.
And it means nothing.

You will not live to be scared.
You will not live to be proper.
You will not live to be OK.
You will live for the journey.
You will live for the tragedy and the suspense and the miraculous and the uncomfortable and the astounding and the unanticipated and the glorious.
You will live for the best.
And you won’t be left wondering.

You might not live without regrets,
but you won’t regret regretting
because, damn,
it will be amazing.

Predator (Siren Series)

poetry

I breathe you in like water
You rush through me and out of me:
a tickle at my ear.

I hum a tune that is faint and purple
wandering.
You barely notice that you notice me.

You will try to ignore it,
fight to push it out of your mind,
but you won’t stop listening.

I sing honey liquid notes
so soft
you’ll hear whatever you want to hear

You will find yourself
ever closer to me.
Returning to
the perfumed air around me:
Sweet lotus blossom
salty ocean breeze
paranormal pheromone.
Intoxication inevitable.

You will find bliss,
you will lose yourself,
and I will take you there.

If you come closer,
I will breathe you in like water and
We will rush through me,
together,
no more pain.

Fire Garden

poetry

Bud of light,
grow me calm

Wrap yourself,
in your evening gown
of licking flame.

Delicate blaze,
burn me awake

Swell yourself by
sipping on fragrant waxes
lavender
coconut
vanilla

Flickering fire,
warm me OK

Dance yourself
torch yourself
in a fit of passion

Blossom yourself
and melt yourself away.

Linger glowing orange on your stem
when you disappear in a string of smoke.

Garden of fire,
pin-prick nebulae burning bright:
Leave me immolated and purged.
warm me alright.

Never fall in love with a poet

poetry

Never fall in love with a poet

Things     get    too     abstract

Often too

hard to understand

Things    get    too    meaningful

Things    get    too     rhythmic

Too      beautiful

You should know what to expect

although

There may yet be a plot twist

In verse

If you try

hard enough

To read between

The lines

And spaces.

Not enough

concrete

Not here

Not immediate

Somewhere

In vapor

In twilight

In theory