Stick 333 - Layers of my Ancestor

Layers of my ancestor

In my inner of my hand
I notice the lines that my ancestors created
in their journeys and routes to
discover and find and just stand

In the bark of my thoughful thoughts
I notice shades of pale pink grey
and I realise that they must have
sometimes just simply played

In the sheaths of folded secrets
I notice agony, angst and anger
and I reach out through layers of age
to hold a hand that wrestled with the inner of the deeds

In the branches of the ancient tree
I notice the main message they want to decree
be and be true, live and live full
linger and breathe slow as to not miss a second of the thrill

Stick 332 - A Much More Life

A Much More Life

In the rubbish basket
next to the desk
lies the letters and words
that intended to wreck

But in the lush leaves
of a life that intends to fully breathe
no more wrecking can be had
no more hurt can be dispersed

For in the lush of the green
sprinkles of yellow sprout from friends
who believe and wholeheartedly just give
so the hurt morphs into a much more life!

Stick 331 - Outback Track

Outback Track

Remote and beautifully vast
in red dust we bask

Trails on a desert moon
where craters are mere earth spoons

Tinder dry with eagles soaring eons high
below the sand awaiting drops to ignite many a blossoming plan

Red as dawn on the lips of a lovers night
sacred the breath of the beautifully vast outback

Trails and tracks
become the path to the magic moon and back

Stick 330 - Purple Frame

Purple Frame

 

In the mess

and at life's behest

when people least expect

the frame

meant to bring order

 to the perceived disorder

becomes

the outside the frame game

of purple regal

ginormous proportions

and the frame

no longer frames

the yet to be tamed

Stick 329 - Whimper in the Silent Night

Whimper in the Silent Night

Your fear is always very real and near
It hunkers down in your heart
and it hurts real bad when you hear fellow victims sigh
but that's okay, because late at night you let it out
with a whimper in the silent dark dark night

Your fight is trying hard to lift its head and rear slightly without fear
It hunches in the corners of your teary eyes
and it cuts slow and deep when you see the bruises peek from long arm shirts
but that's okay, because late at night you let it out
with a whimper in the silent dark dark night

Your fist clenches as it holds on to an insignificant pen
It haunts your shaking hand as you try to find a crutch to lean on
and it slams into your ribs as your bloodless body flies accross a sad sad room
but that's okay, because late at night you let it out
with a whimper in the silent dark dark night

Your feet walk forward while fun is never here
It walks through gates over bridges and enters the golden gates
and it shines like a bright light if you do not stand up and fight
and it's not okay that you only let it out late at night
with a whimper in the silent silent dark human night

Stick 328 - As we Age

As we Age

As we age
as our grey gives way to grace
Talents untamed and yet to be framed
may very much still emerge

As we age
we certainly do not become a blank page
Talents scattered throughout our previous many a phase
may and do emerge from the past tense haze

As we age
as our hands become withered with stick bark to mark years gone by
Talents merge and sprout magical new stick wings which
may indeed lift our stick spirits as we become amazed

As we age
we can very much give back
to a world with so much need and not many willing to give and feed
so we may in moments of truth become beautiful in a giving stick youth

Stick 327 - Tornado Soul

Tornado Soul

 

Footprints in the desert snow

water paths no longer guide and show

frozen to the bone

as I grow

very slowly

ice ice stone cold

 

Tangled mess

of my Tornado soul

Touching

Testing

Tormenting

Evil Tempting

 

Can a mess

seek redemption and redress

Can exemption stem

from the inner cry

of the sad search

of the darkness

of the depressed

 

I venture a guess

that only during the kingtide

 of emotional excess

does the eye of the storm

allow for the beginning of a new norm