Gravity is not dangerous, it’s just another variable in their calculation….because in a cats mind everything, EVERYTHING, is accessible. And until they get it, their world nearby is abundant with equally happy and achievable alternatives. This is probably all that distinguishes them from humans.

Beneath these clothes, and flesh and sinew... is a universe trying to get out.  And if I languish to a halt, and weather to dust, I'm only expanding; to be found again, in the dream dust of another.





Image from: http://tinypoems.blogspot.com/

Now (again)

I’m living in the now for all ages to come!

Grey Goodbyes

Morning stirs - a dull grey mist,
clouding memories of your tender kiss
And where the angels once gamboled upon my heart
Now there’s just lonely wreckage as the storm departs

I remember when - we laughed in sighs
And we walked through the sands, under the seaside skies
Kicking up fragments - of mother of pearl
And making roads of color into another world.

And where stars blink on, as I close my eyes
And waves curl over, and a heron flies
Where the coast goes dark
From a crimson sky
Its there my cobalt blue
Turns to grey goodbyes.

There’s thunder in your heart and it beats like mine
And when you breathed out a promise I would breath in mine
But while the angels played music on fragile strings
You lost my voice in the lines that another sings.

You were there beside me, when I was alone
But it wasn’t really me that you were waiting on
And we kept paying love no matter what the cost
But love can’t return the time that we’d have lost.

And where stars blink on, as I close my eyes
And waves curl over, and a heron flies
Where the coast goes dark
From a crimson sky
Its there my cobalt blue
Turns to grey goodbyes.

There are oceans and mountains that I’ve yet to cross
And a sun that might rise and melt this painful frost
But somewhere in the distance, of this cold dark night
Is a last angel singing with my guiding light.

And where stars blink on, as I close my eyes
And waves curl over, and a heron flies
Where the coast goes dark
From a crimson sky
Its there my cobalt blue
Turns to grey goodbyes.

Pat McGee Band - Fine
Great Song - Has nothing to do with mine, not really.

Bathing Angels

Were the angels here to gambol upon your heart

And laugh like sighs beneath seaside skies

Where stars blink on, as I close my eyes

And waves curl over, and a heron flies

Where a crimson coast goes dark.

Were you here beside me, when I thought I was alone

Running barefoot as the thermals cross

And took no heed if the time was lost

Never stopped sharing no matter what the cost

I’d have promised if I’d known.

We both ambled in the surf for driftwood down the beach

Speaking of dreams we forgot it seems

While angels plucked on fragile strings

Fretting memories and failing schemes

Of things all along within our reach.

Epilogue:

Over thunder at sea,

When we’re oceans apart.

And were I there

She’d sail off to sleep

To rise

With breaths like her

That…and vanquish.

At the window, I hear the thunder

Your heart beats like mine

And your exhale sounds like mine

We’ve had oceans to cross

With wounds and

Mountains between us.

Quips for the Quipish

1.  It seems I am only misunderstood for trying to have people understand me for something I am not.  Why is something so easy to understand, then so difficult.

2.  You’ll never please everyone being yourself, least of all yourself if pleasing everyone is your objective.

3.  Being anything other than yourself, is akin to offering your weaknesses with blind compassion, rather than your strengths, with glowing passion.

4.  If you meet a shoe-Less person on the street, taking yours off to be like them is not Nearly as compassionate as keeping yours on and carrying them.

5.  And finally, simple mathematic progression: 

“If 10 people true unto themselves enter into a room, and remain that way, there are 55 different relationships.  If each of those 10 behaves like another to appease their relation, then there are 765 possible relationships.  If 2 just focus on each other, there’s just 1.”

Rose of Honesty

When I hand you the rose of honesty, please be aware of the thorns.  I've already pricked my hands many times carrying it around on my own.