Wednesday, June 20, 2012

Safety Net

My eyes are ready to see it your way (wholly)
This island, a floating platform of shit and seeds
In my mind sprouts the loveliest, leafiest convictions (born)
I can live with change if it means having your eye

If you throw me a rope be aware of your footing (soft)
Having things your way may seem princess perfect
But changing who I am short circuits Mother Nature’s hard work (digging)
And when I hemorrhage me, the result could be messy

Just a note to let you know I’m here for the saving (desperate)
And when you awaken from your prescribed existence
To see that control is an illusion conjured from fear (savior)
I would like to be the one you make due with…..your safety net

Monday, June 11, 2012

Portrait of the Artist

I found the Portrait of the Artist particularly cool...hope its alirght that I used that picture.

Hannah Gosselin - Portrait of the Artist

I saw two thoughts floating behind a pair of bible blue eyes
Take me with you, I promise to mind the days
And carry your sack of inspiration, ready at a moment’s notice
And keep your secret in the chestnut box carved by northerly breezes
Locked until your grandfather’s untimely death from loneliness

A light for seeing
A light for warmth
A light for sharing views
A light for eating maple bars
And one to light the pews
A light to kill the specters laugh
A light to still the dogs
I’ll hold that light til’ morning comes
And chase to mud the frogs

I saw two thoughts floating behind a pair of bible blue eyes
Your slingshot modifiers matching mother nature’s  boldest strokes
I pulled tight the brim of my cap to shade the brilliance
Of verse torched from solid steel plate and freesia stems
As a woman you have built believers out of dirt and paste

 As an artist you shape my universe……..

The Love Paradigm

Even the most devout of God's army
Have a few blemishes on their otherwise exceptional souls
Taking that hand, that idea, that hair-brained scheme
Is sure to soften a heart set in its ways and retool tempered fundamentals

Can I borrow your fleeting thoughts, even in their infant stages
They make mine look like runny, orange jello, unset, gritty
I promise to return them whole after using it to set my timing belt 
Stunning are the pictures you paint with three words and a handful of hope

This stage is one for all the players preening and flaunting
But several stand out, decked in sequined finery and hockey masks 
It doesn't make their destiny any more certain than your stagehand existence
Your treatment of the other soul is what will matter, gently cradling nature

Your smile wont get you into these gates of heaven
They were built in your honor..... and on your back
You have flushed out old thinking, trimmed it with new ornaments
And created a thought process that is very hard to deny

For those who still have love in their hearts

© 2011 Crowley

Sunday, June 10, 2012

Going Deeper

OK, I am breaking the rules.....who makes the rules....someone else.  Sorry Kerry.  I tried three times to write a dementia piece because this like many is near and dear to my heart and couldn't come up with one that was as good as the one I wrote not long ago. Sooooo...let the pants down spankings begin. I will not go down without a fight but I won't make it a habit either.  This was written when my mother in law was battling Alzheimers...tricky stuff. This for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads...

There is a place to go
And we all go, we do… go
Where the beige wall is painted
A violent red

The dark spot
A cancer on an otherwise healthy heart
Is real in comparison
To a birthday party, or an anniversary dinner

We dig with a new spade
And then cover what we have found
The smell of foul and sour earth
Discoveries, shadowy and veiled but solid in the mind

The line is thin
So thin that every word is complacent
Thin as winter lips, cracked and dry
And we dance, hoping someone will throw some water

Careworn hands and eyes filled with lust
Where are you now? Who are you now?
Don’t look in the mirror
The reflection is you, pointing at you

Don’t worry my child
The colors black and purple are everywhere
Your place, this place, is special
Let’s have a picnic, let’s have a cry

Darkness fades as the light rises and cuffs
Picking up the dishes of our meal
Walking and walking back to what
To everything that everyone wants us to be