Moments That Follow

it's when the hands reach up in attempt to grasp onto just a piece.

something for them to hold onto.

only a piece, that happens to be almost out of attainment.

a touch of finger upon its cold metallic flesh. just out of reach, just of air.

Tempered Taste on the Tongue

road set out before us

stretched forth and wandering

darkened shadows melt

as illumination carries us by

lifeless leaves scattered

lying motionless

locked away within frost

blurring the lines that guide

melody intertwines among rhythm

gently lulling our minds

distorting time

thoughts become lost and faded

while waning crescent

smiles upon our journey

Advised Not To

“Why do you always have a baseball bat with you?”

“What happens when I need to hit that homerun to win the game, and I’m up to the plate and I don’t have a bat? What then?”

“What makes you think you’re on deck?”

“Hmm…fair point. I believe you have found a flaw in my logics. A cog seems to be missing. I’ll have to look for it. Are those M&Ms in your pocket, because if they are I would like to taste the rainbow.”

“That’s the slogan for Skittles, not M&Ms.”

“Ok well let me have some Skittles then, I only hope that they won’t melt in my hand just my mouth.”

“That’s the…*sigh* whatever, sure you ca…”

“This is my stop, I have to get off here otherwise I have to come all the way back up town to get to work, because that’s where it’s located. I advise you to do the same.”

“Jack… we’re going to the same place…and we want the next stop, not this one.”

“Sir you’re beginning to ruffle my feathers and I don’t appreciate that. Now if you excuse me I’m going to be late for work.”

“…yep alright. See you at home Jack.

“Goodbye Phyllis.”

“I’ll tell you one more time, just incase you haven’t heard me the million other times, it’s Greg.”

“I…I can’t hear you... I…must be going. No change, no change, sorry, it’s going to be alright. LOS CABOS!!”

“Jack that doesn’t…mean goodbye…”

Drop Your Head To Avoid Eye Contact

"fair point," said Greg the robber.

"although the pond yet lies stagnant," proclaimed Colby as he noticed that Greg began to stare at the sky while saying "i blame it on the moon with such a luminous glow, she confuses what to be day and what night."

"She cannot always hold the sway of the water, as she does hide herself to mirror the pendulum's swing," defending the one who cannot speak.

"they mustn't be allowed the pleasure of loosening their tongue from teeth," Greg protested in alarm to that of Colby's defense.

"all cannot be controlled my friend," Colby uttered throwing his words to the wind while moving toward Greg, "let us go home before we shame another that cannot raise a hand in anger."

Only When You Close Your Eyes

leaving you entangled within its wake it doesn't look back for that is not in its nature. saturated eyes hidden under red hue of swollen mess. lungs without a hold on the air they so long for, you gasp in search of more but find nothing in a state of panic. body trembles in a state of disbelief as a fear lingers above that it might once again show its grueling face. images in motion with voices to match make up the thoughts that force their way before your eyes. once place to rest your heavy head now has become a tomb to the tears that you've shed, dampening the fabric for more than just the state of evaporation. the lights have long gone and the room looks solely at you, amplifying the reason of needing contact with another.

They Paint Their Eyes Into Dreams

her pale skin and coarse hair

forces moments to pass by in pieces

stone melts before the caressing touch of rain

while leaves are conquered by the fluttering of gravity

striation upon silken skin maps her thinking at will

easy spoken doors open into a drunken state

leaving the stiff face of time to shutter

courteous clouds grace the unwanting face of moon

Catalyst for Transcending

Without essential items, nothing can or could be. A thought cannot become reality, silica cannot become a window, and a seed cannot flourish into a plant. This seed, under the correct conditions, has the ability to remain in a suspended state for years, possibly decades if it’s not allowed to reap the benefits of the earth and its abundance of variant life sustaining matters. Without the presence of these essential items the seed remains nothing but a seed. It cannot grow; it has not the possibility of harvesting sunlight for the creation of its food. It shall never be forced to fight through hard times of the dry season’s drought. It has no chance, no opportunity to say “goodbye” to something that was not there to begin with.

One seed may germinate into something beautiful but it takes a handful of seeds to create a flowing cohesive junction. A singular tree has the ability to bring positive attention to home’s curb appeal, but it takes an entire forest to ensure the wealth of this planet. Something as simple as a seed has the potential, if given the chance, to give and create wealth in such harmony; priceless for the outcomes may be never ending.

This image of a lonely seed begins to bloom into a whole new picture. An image, a story, a piece of art that takes on a new meaning before the viewer’s eyes as if shown in a different spectrum of light, yet remains physically unaltered. It starts with a shift in direction, a change in point of view. Unearthed within its hues, its dynamic, its whole composition is a story, a journey of what can, of what could, of what has not yet come to pass. With time a whole, finished picture may come into view.