Thoughts

Thoughts 4 ABCD 1

Thoughts

What if our thoughts became real
Before we had time to conceal
The parts of the thought
We know we should not
Allow the whole truth to reveal

What if our thoughts were out loud
Where silence was never allowed
Would it stir the mind
To thinking more kind
Or leave us all mute in the crowd

What if your thoughts I could hear
The sound of your mind in my ear
Would you then share a smile
And converse for awhile
Or just shit your pants in the fear

Namasté

Michael33

 

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On Brown Paper Bags

Brown Paper Bag 1

On Brown Paper Bags

I love the tattered parchment
That you wear to veil your heart
Naked of the poetry
With any scent of your desire…
Frayed upon the edges…
Brittled by the smoke
Still lingering from the fire

Yet I have seen you
Running through wildflowers…
Smiling
Through your paper façade…
Lying in the weeds
Exposed through the parchment
Ravaged by the thorns
You so willingly shepherd…
The softest of skin
Glowing in the sunlight
As if offering yourself
To the Gods…
Your breast
Yearning…
For just one single taste
Of tenderness…

Though you cover yourself
In delicate crepe
I can see
Through the translucent hues
Of one so tightly wrapped
In reticence
Longing for the hand of another
To scribe upon your heart
Just one single rhyme
Without reflection

Yet you hide neath
Your parchment
Bare of verse
While your ballad
Still echoes cross
Bright colored pages…
Left crumpled and hushed
In whispers
Neath your breath

Perhaps if you could just
B   r   e   a   t   h   e  .  .  .  .  .  .  .
In the first blush of dawn…
Linger tween the lines
You’ve drawn
On brown paper bags…
You would find your parchment
No longer bare
Of the poetry
That lingers in your heart…
Lyrics of the rain…
Symphonies of light
From neath the shadows…
For what is borne
Of circumstance
No longer hides the face
Behind the hand
Yet offers parchment bare…
To dare the truth…

Namasté

Michael33

Love… Once Danced

Love...OnceDanced 1

Love…
           Once Danced

Just sitting here…
Wondering…
Pondering life as it is…
Lingering in the thought
That I may just be the only living human
That has walked inside this room
Leaving rhymes upon the wall
Of wishes…
Of hopes…
Of dreams that cast their shadows
Cross the uneven planks of the wooden floor
Never having felt the touch of bare feet…
Before me…
Perhaps I am the only living human
Searching for the light amongst the rubble
In a room of silence…
The only sound
That of peeling paint
Weeping down the naked walls
While fragments of runes from poets passed
Lay crumpled against the baseboards…
Memories left behind…….
For which no one is searching

Just sitting here…
Wondering…
Pondering life as it is…
Lingering in the thought
That I may just be the only living human
That has lingered in this room
Leaving poems upon the ceiling
With laughter…
With sorrow….
With scars intertwined
In the delicate strings of the cobwebs
Never having felt the warmth of human breath…
Before me…
Perhaps I am the only living human
Capturing visions
Still lingering in the soft whispers
Of love… once danced
In this room of silence…
The only sound
That of a single heartbeat
Echoes of life
Of breath
Once inhaled within this room
Now silenced by time…
Poetry
Still clinging to the ceiling…
Memories left behind…
For which no one is searching

Michael33

What If?

What If 2

This poem is not posted in celebration of thanksgiving.  I’m not much into holidays.  I am not sitting here celebrating a pilgrim.  I hope that everyone who reads this post is celebrating a bountiful harvest… enjoying good food… sharing love and laughter with those for whom you care.  I do ask that following these days of celebration… you share your own bountiful harvest… your love and your laughter… with those less fortunate.  That would bring the true meaning of thanksgiving into their life… and into yours.

I am very thankful to be fortunate enough to know what love is…
and very thankful that I still have the ability…
and the audacity… to write silly poetry.
Thank you for sharing your smile with another…

What If

So what if they never get said
Those peculiar thoughts that wander my head
So what if they never get said

I thought them once or twice or thrice
The weirdest of things of my own device
But still I thunk them… once or twice

Just once my thoughts were slightly crude
Hypnotic erotic psychotically skewed
But only once my thoughts were lewd

So what if they never get said
They’re scribbled and dribbled and riddled instead
So what if they never get said

If I did spake them quite outloud
Blameless and shameless and brainless and proud
Twas only once… amongst a crowd

I tend to blurt and spurt the spice
Musing or boozing confusing my vice
But now I sip just once… or thrice

So what if they never get said
Pathetic poetic mystique in my head
So what if they never get said

Michael33

Autumn 1

 

Just One Single Story… of Life

Building 6

Just One Single Story…

                           of Life

I lived in the big city in my late teens
Wandered the streets late at night
And wee hours of the morning…
Often straying down many
Of the dark alley ways
With innocent curiosity…
Sometimes finding
Life
As I had never imagined…
Shadows crouched in doorways
Hidden from the streetlamp
Veiled from the moonlight
By stones
Reaching into the night sky
As if they could touch eternity…
An occasional sigh
From beneath the fire escape
The mist of breath
Lingering in the cold night air
As if biding the light of morn
To warm its crystal rime

I’d often hear the beckoning voice
“Hey, kid.  Got a cigarette?”
Which of course…
I always did…
To share with a new found friend
Too faint of heart
To feign a smile
In the light of day…
Though I was but a timid child
Too young to wander streets
Of unknown destinations…
Far too innocent
To stray into the alley ways
Of life in destitution
To encounter the realities of life
Of what I had never known…
And yet…
Wandering within the darkness
Of what soared
Far beyond my understanding…
I had found the light…
In just one single story…
Of life…

Namasté

Michael33

 

In Liquid Gold

Golden tree 8

In Liquid Gold

Have you ever found yourself lost…
Where no GPS nor even good common sense
Can turn your wrong into right?
So what if the sky is blue
And the sunshine is sparkling
Through the wildflowers
In droplets of amber light…
So what if the tops of trees
Were dipped in liquid gold
Gently kissed by morning’s blush…
Can the beauty of nature assure you
That you will see tomorrow’s dawn?

It was just a tiny fork in the road
Why would it matter that you veered to the left
Instead of steering right?
There couldn’t possibly be that much difference
In your final destination…
Could there?
After all…
You’ve always enjoyed the edge of the cliff
Feeling the wind on your face
Looking across the valley to the distant hills
Seeming as though you can almost touch them
If you could just lean a tiny bit more
Over the ledge…

Looking down a thousand feet below
At the green plush tops of the oaks
Where you imagine
They would feel soft like pillow tops
If you were to fall…
Your foot slides a bit in loose dry soil
As you watch the rocks free fall to the canyon below
So far down that there is no sound
When they reach their final destination…

You close your eyes and watch
As your life passes by
In the summer breeze
Searching for those moments
Dipped in liquid gold
Gently kissed by morning’s blush…
Hoping desperately
That somewhere…
Wrapped inside your own mortality
You will find those droplets of amber
Sparkling in the sunlight
Through the wildflowers
Through which you once wandered…
And you wonder…
When you reach your final destination…
Will there be no sound?

Michael33

You’re from Where?

Astronaut 33

Okay… enough seriousness for now…
So… put on your sense of humor.

I’ve written many serious poems
of love…
of abuse…
of innocence…
of sadness…
This is “not” one of those…

You’re from Where?

Once upon a world without time
In a star cluster, far far away
Amidst the home of the Seven Sisters
A single cell was fertilized
Near Electra…
The third brightest star of the Pleiades…
Transmutated in the light of Meissa
Near the beautiful crest of Orion
To incubate for a period of 33 cosmic years
Then teleported to a distant blue planet
Called Earth…
Where 33 days later
At the most interesting hour of 0333
Coordinated Universal Time…
The cell divided…
And divided…
Until the birth of a most un-normal being
Of this world and that of another…
Now dwelling amongst the pages of wordpress…
I bid you good morning…

May you have a most enlightening day

Namasté

Michael33,  XXXIII,  Treinta Tres,  三十三,  तेंतीस,  তেثلاثة وثلاثين, 

ত্রিশ,  тридцать три,   سی و سه

Trāyastriṃśa