Happiness obligation

A truthfulness we promised ourselves to be.
Thine soul in twine.
Cracked butterfly wings of gold.
Yet the oil got their first.
But we can shake the Texas tea from our mouths.
And sore higher into the moon shaped sky.
This crowing. A deep reverence for the promise we made.
That we whispered into our ears when we came.
Sweet words like honey into milk.
We can avoid the fault line that threatens like an injured bird.
Dragging our horizons down.
Pull up your crown, and remember the happiness we sung.
Wrote poems and lyrics to in our heart of hearts.
Take the hand that hurts, and heal with a severed ego.
A beauty that we owe to ourselves.
An apology just for you.
A remembering of the happiness we deserves.

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Little things

They’re little things you worry about.
Stop fretting, relax you mind.
Put aside the fear and doubt.
Happiness will come in time.

Yet I do not live in conscious reason.
I cannot resist to wonder.
That all things change in each passing season.
And it’s the little things that pull you under.

Grotesque

A loathsome sea of smiles in the afternoon.
Faces spasm to an uncontrollable joy.
You. You set the tiger in me free.
Lurching about the jungle, tangled in vines of love.
To shake these eyes, does not make your image fade.
To deaden my nerves would only make you feel cosmic.
As your lips find mine, and the stars explode.
Yet a war rages within.
A battlefield littered with bloody pieces of my heart and mind.
Engaged in conflict, fighting to be heard.
Yet the grotesque display goes on.
My hand, pulling for yours in the setting sun.
Love. Such a sickening sight.
Outrageously inhabited and warm.
When all around, the world is so lonely.
And so cold.

Everything (सर्वेषां स्वस्तिर्भवतु ।)

When the world wind weeps around you.
May the universe dry your eyes.
And happiness make you smile once more.
Sarvesham Svastir Bhavatu.
I cannot keep you safe from the conflict.
Or the wars within you.
But I offer you peace, from that of which I’ve known.
Sarveśām Shāntir Bhavatu.
You are taken from the mountain,.
You come in pieces.
And I too. But together we are more than less.
Sarveśām Pūrnam Bhavatu.
And if you fall, I will not catch you.
I will watch as you rise again.
And applaud your strength, with an outstretched heart.
Sarveśām Maṇgalam Bhavatu.

Love saves the day

In his heart, he couldn’t say.
Why on earth he was born that way.
And in his mind, his thoughts progressed.
His soul did ache, heave and compress.
For when he learned that there were others.
He pulled down deep within his covers.
And smiled a smile of understanding.
A powerful notion that was commanding.
That it didn’t matter if you like either gender.
It only mattered if the love was tender.
So he took their hand then stated proudly.
A message to the world yelled out so loudly.
That he loved them the most, come what may.
And in the end, love saves the day.

Wicker man

What remains?
Human or emotional?
Like ghosts, they’re all surrounding me; sitting on my shoulder.
Pouring water and words into my head.
Sitting back and watching the sky bleed.
It’s a shame you grow up. A pity you learn to forget me.
This voice, so quiet and inaccurate, picking at my bones.
Causing havoc and happiness.
All happenstance?
Resurrecting the druids within me. Sweet pagan thoughts.
You swing on the gate to my heart, walking muddy shoes across my soul.
Planting monkey trees and memories in my mind.
Puzzling in this post-imaginative plantation.
Travelling with you, hand in hand to the cliff edge.
The red sky opens up as you whisper you miss me.
Ghost in my hand, spirits in my soul again.
Swallowing the sun forever.
Holding the torch up for you again, threatening to burn eternally.
My incomplete heart.
My Incandescent wicker man.

Cotton

My feet hurry the ground, and the soil gives way.
Waking to find you next to me. Wrapped up against the world.
We move in emotions, wandering the streets and taking trains to anywhere.
The fabric fantasy of space and love, as we disappear completely.
Plunging through clouds, walking on cotton. The skyline shifts and all glass shatters.
My world is safe, my world is soft.
Feather light and filtered, expunging the dirt of life.
You take my hand, feeling for my pulse with your textile touch.
Feeling further into my soul while the sun and rain pours down upon us.
Umbrellas by the lake and warmness in my heart.
I could live here forever, lost in the gossamer threads of now.
Washed into the white existence of your love.
Then you spill ink over my world.
Staining, seeping and leaking through.
Destroying the pure white fabric of my dream that anything had changed.

The Other shore

Scrapping it off my soul.
Place the razor, safely first.
Wring out the black. Lighten. Flow. Relax.
Cough. Once, twice. Let the black smoke drift away.
The light is where you shall bathe.
Imprints and sins dig deep like barnacles and sand crabs.
Burrowing for survival.
Yet the Buddhist in me does not wish to kill them.
Shake them off, strip them away. Let the mud and toxic blood defuse.
Transfuse and melt beyond tomorrow.
Scrubbing my halo.
Dusting off my wings.
Bring my happy back again. In beautiful Technicolor.
A cocktail of antibiotics, hope and acknowledgement accompany my humble pie.
The mirror facing, soul searching reason for change.
And Change we must.
The traveling, motioning blurring fight for tomorrow.
The face of you, as I swim to the ocean floor.

Lemonade

Like I wouldn’t know you’re the reason.
Before you, there was such terrain.
Speak your name, quietly with religious respect.
Licking you like I would a sweet prayer before bedtime.
Tasting your wonder on my tongue.
Excuse me if this makes you uncomfortable, you just don’t know the marvel you’ve become.
I box your words like chocolates.
Closing the doors in my soul and opening the windows.
Slipping in to your loveliness. That day, the day the avalanche came.
That’s who you are.
Dipped in brilliance. Making me walk like a cat.
So happy to show me.
Dress you up like a store front window. Make me bow.
Bringing my happy back again.
Take me there.