Live Off Embers

We live off the embers

of something
so much bigger
and denser than now.

Something almost gone,
yet still so very beautiful,

powerful.

Have you ever seen the stars.

So the reasons
we have any of this, believe me,
are in the power
still left in the smallest sparks.

Just look up,
have you ever seen the stars?

and wondered...

Look at your next clear night
up and down and up.
Mostly up.

Embers
all embers
of something so much bigger,

and yet still enough
to lead us round and
round water or soil
in light enough to see.

We live
live off embers.
of oh so much more
than we will ever be

But what we do with this
is more than the brighter beginning still

We live
live off embers.

Off the bits we can handle
not the truth that'd kill us.

We live
on the edge of what used to..

and begin
a new potential.

Like flies
on an old pie
but on the universe's more pristine.

Yet scavengers all the same,
we resourceful
become.

We become.
and whats left
will be the fodder
for the next.

We become,
but hopefully
are not the last.

We become.
but what is
still
to
be
still to
to be.

Vallero

Pulling in
to Valero

in my
nice Nissan,

Such
a nice Nissan.

The better
better of my three
nice outfits

gets
the better of me
of me for the day.
 
Good job,
good pay,
form nice neighborhood,

but funding flown into my artist hands,
my spouse of even better artist hands,
two kids, said car payment, house, all the lights
and all means of fighting decomposition of all above.

How many know me
know that me
this me.

How many who know me
would know this 5 dollars is my last
last of the month going into the tank
and to top it off that two of it was shattered in pieces under the floor mat.

Quarters and less
reunited
in extra work
for me and the cashier
and only me so thankful.

Only me so thankful.
Pulling out
out of Valero.

Out,
out of Valero.

Just a Beginning

What goes
without
comment
goes,

or dies
mostly
on the shoulders of the too kind
to engage,

but the right
hand
open to the right fist
makes peace,

and once
in awhile
love.

Let me walk all
of my path,

but also
don't let me fall
all over your flowers
as I stumble.

No growth
that's eating more than giving
is as shinny as it sometimes comes off

So much going out
for the few returns,

don't keep letting,
letting it all go
letting it all just keep
on going.

Say
what you see
and what you know.

My growth
and your growth
are more than either of us alone
could do
and that's just a beginning...

So Certain

Amazing
how
we can be
so certain,

then just watch
a slice of day in reverse
and see so much more
than ever.

Amazing
how a sunset can pass-- in minutes
if you're not looking
or be a brief eternity
that lives a long memory.

All where we are
or which way we're walking.

Eyes open
up or down
or heading home
or heading out

you'll have seen a different day
than many an other
depending on the where
that you happen to be.

But together we are starting to see it all
what it means to cry
and then find laughter.

To kill then find saving life
to be far better.

Spread round the sphere together
we can see the sun rise and set at once,
and every good or bad dream
or daytime event,

but just a pair of eyes alone
have only their tremendous unique perspective to offer
and noting more.

Amazing
it is
to be so certain
and so not really built for it.

At least not on
only these two feet.

But the more we are
might just begin
if we can stop the stopping
and start to see.

Thick and Warm

Sheets tangled round
my ankles
under a thick and heavy comforter in December,

To warm in here to get out,
to warm to be off enough to fix anything.

Same in my life,
to okay
to fix any anything,

well enough
to not be jumping up to.

Sheets tangled round
my ankles
for real or by day.

I stay
wrapped up
in comfort,

wrapped up
safe away from life's December
in the north side of this sphere I live on.

Letter

The letter
you left...

might as well
of said I am going to the store
and stopping by Kentucky on the way out of California...

The letter you left
might as well have said
we suck
and even at that
we are no good.

No good.

Good
no good.

Bad
plenty
plenty to share,

but no one's listening,
no one's lining up,
no one is in need of more misery.
Everyone
can go home
and find plenty of that to spare,
plenty to spare
on everyone's table, plenty,
plenty to spare.

Yes.
This,
this is the new thanks,
the new thanks,
thanks.

Glasses usually used to cheer
raised really in hope of forgetting.
Fill 'em up
fill 'em up again
and again.

Joy to anyone
that can still define
it,

but here
the night rises
and takes the pressure off
for awhile
form the light I wasn't living up to anyway.

Anything New

The sun coming through a window
has always looked the same
since we had widows
and the right exposure
to sit and stare off.

Why I should feel unique
other than for me that this is the first time--
well not the first--
but a time where it is sinking in as something.

Same something as for thousands
or millions or more
of which only a few
had a voice
that outlasted life's grasp
on itself.


The sun coming through
the window, roof or clouds--
whatever you keep overhead the place you call home--
is all your own,
but there's more at some particular moments
that make one bigger than one's own shoes.

Those moments that water your own eyes
with not joy nor anguish
but something more still inbetween.

Live for these, and if you have means
spread the recipe,
those alive
protect life

those angry and dying
find more of their own.

Wherever you land
don't let the world
or people
or self that put you there
be the final say.

The more alive
the more.

The more alive
the more in us all.

That more alive
the more in us all
in us all,
in all.

Seeing Sometimes Too Much

sometimes we see so much in one second
that we can't see the day

like the river that fog really is

or the line the earth lets the sun draw
by its own spinning just as does

There's a balance I'll never get
somewhere
between seeing the detail
and being blinded by it

nothingness on both sides
like it all
only knowing the best spot
after being there and being now long past it
and never there.


Inspired by consuming:

http://www.simonchristen.com/adrift.html


 

Between Wind, the World and Being

As helpless
      as a feather
in the wind that thunder blows
I bow
before a world
that I know
not how
to engage.

I have eyes
but not the how
to make you see,

not the heart
    to grow.

mirrors only tell me
what I am already ashamed of
not how to turn around
and open a new door.

Right now
I'd take a silhouette
over this reflection,

more to imagine,
more to fill in,
more to figure out,
more undone,
than poorly done.

I want to find the last
path still powered by possibility
and a better yet to be.

A touch of something less than Midas,
but grand all the same.

As helpless
      as a feather,
I want to come to rest
in the potential of a hand
attached to a child's eager eyes,

all ready to be whatever
and not only what is easily possible.

To be
the more
that is the making of proud
and better hearts.