Mindfully Temporary

Starting time: 8:35

I cannot think of a reason
for why
2 should not become 1.

I'm open minded to a
certain extent and
my eyes sometimes read
between the lines.
During battles I'm without
a heart,
during a romantic scene
I am without restraint.
Situations open and close
and consequences arise
and then they pass.

I am without a season or
a dividing line concerning
moods. I am over the edge
and I am under the considerate
attention. I am a ranting
lunatic and a boring, vulgar
vagabond.

I'm sometimes afraid to speak
most of the time.
The errors that my fingers make
are mirrored on my mind and I curse
myself when my mind sends an
incomplete message to my body.
My soul does nothing but spectate
and hope to God that I don't
fuck up.

I cannot stop this
mess, this
tragedy, or this absurdity
in my heart. The
Cauldron has been
spilled into the flames
hissing and hissing
I miss the contents of
the cauldron.
I miss it so and
I fear I'll never get
to see it again.

I must not give up on the hope.
The hope that some things are meant
to be and the hope that time
will not effect me the way
It surely will: Over minutes
I become sour,
over days I become moldy
over years I become
dry and the gremlins
become bored and die away.

I've said this time and time again.
It's always about me. I, I, I. When
Will You ever get a description?
Why not now, as the Earth passes
slowly, peacefully.
For I am much more interested in
the YOU, than the ME.

You are without equal, naturally.
You assuredly hope as I hope
and You most definitely think of time
sometimes all the time.
You've been surrounded and
that is not a bad thing. Occasionally
You will look at two indistinct trees and
see someone standing between them
that no one else sees.
That person will return your gaze.
I Think.
When you hear a brooke you hear a voice,
when you see the moon you see a face,
When you touch the steel you feel a heart
beat, beat, beat... ?
When you smell the rose you think of...
Pink? Maybe a romantic dance.

There are boxes
and they contain my pieces.
Some assembly required,
batteries included. But they
are nearly dead.
Where's a charger when you need one.
How presumptuous... then again,
maybe not.

Smog and unfiltered
cigarrette smoke
little pebbles that burn bright blue
and sulferic acid bubbling under the
thin layer of sand...

I'll save the best for last...

Hats
Yellow daffodils
peace signs saturn away
white on white
empty pill bottles
broken hearts and
polio. Shit on the mattresses
of the crippled that
cannot move. So much violence
and there's a single
tear rolling down every woman's cheek.
Two for every man.
All the children have gone to
seek the shelter of other
open arms, for their
faith in their own race
has been smashed.
There's a heart-stopping
Lilac bush fixed in the
wasted desert. Each who
dares pick its
flowers is given a chance
to chose between Earth and
a painless death.

Irony
in the most angelic
shrub of death
I leaned in and smelled
the fragrent lavender
flowers. I noticed you
had arrived, too. I offered
water, and you accepted,
I offered help
and you accepted
I offered my own
sacrifice and the shrub
denied my right as a
mortal.

My eyes squeezed every last
ounce of elegance and allurement
from the deep green petals as
I stalked back into the desert
to surely die.

You didn't follow but I prayed
each night for your safety.
I hoped that you were spared by
the flower and her cohorts.

I saw a reflection in the pool
and was relieved that you had
in fact followed.
I was alone for
a million miles.
My eyes were blasted dim
by days of merciless sun.
I screamed in genuine frustration
my voice broke and I shrieked much
like the crows circling above.
I stayed by the pool waiting, but
my visions were never attained.

Each day I added to the pool as much
as I subtracted. The placid surface broke
as in a rain storm, tears flowing painfully
out of my stricken, prostrate body.

I waited by the tranquil pool,
sure of what must come true and
Without you there with me
I died every day.
Every second.

.......... The last for best?

In my final half hour I looked up
directly at my mother, the sun. I opened
my mouth and my vocals were a melody of
softly chirping birds and supersonic bats.
I had seen my mother so much she had
become recognizable and easy to look upon.
The brightness which had hurt me previously
now gone,
my sight now withered and my eyes turned black.
My hair fallen out, taken by the crows
for nests, their crowing belligerance awaking
old human nature in my husk of a body.

........... but....

Why should we limit the human spirit?
Without that, what are we?
Questions.
Why should we question the things
we love and have already accepted?
I already know so much about myself
but what about others?

In my last half hour, You, old
and crying your last tear, approached out
of the desert and You apologized
for a million years of pain and
insanity. You were so beautiful
my heart felt curiously light.
I whimpered and spoke your name and you
recognized me. You took your place
beside me and I put my hand on yours
for the first time. The pool had
turned into a lake,
the trees had turned into a forest.
The desert had turned into heaven.
You had turned into an angel.

I witnessed the rebirth of the desert
with my dying eyes. Your shape grew dim
as blindness took me and I was no longer
able to see your face. I conjured up
the mental image and laughed. Laughter
in the face of so many years. Laughter,
Laughter Laughter.
Laugher.
The end was like a cataclysm. My breath was
slow and painful and you could not help. I
was so sad that I couldn't keep living
with you, my mind could not comprehend leaving
only minutes after you had finally arrived.

But when you lifted me out of myself and carried
me upward, I realized
You would not leave me after all.

Your apology rang throughout
and I bowed my head in acceptance.

But not without a kiss on the cheek, at least!

End time: 9:25