rebsnugs

Nuggets of Wisdom on Peace, Love, & Sustainability

In flux (madness)

Each night another layer revealed

Sucking through a technicolor candy cane
The sour shocks my sweet receptors
The spice stimulates the savory
Complex blends of vitality
 
My ego in a tailspin, I laugh in free fall
Tracking… Tracking… Marking time
I pause rewind and taste you again
Each flavor a memory
 
Brought to life at night
Brought to sight out of spite
The thread of time is thin and twisted
And fluids on my fingers of fruits 
Yellow as my smile
Drip into sewers, collect in tanks
Shocked with light and released into the flow
 
A man on the street failed to cook beets
To his pleasing after eating them out
I suggested to add more love to his cooking
And see if the flavor improves
 
But love is not the missing flavor for you
For you I add clove and cardamom
Snakeskin and nicotine
Foil and a hitchhiker
Ten murcury balloons and one hundred slivers of cedar
To steep and sleep in clouds blue and green
We are steady in stare and stance
But always in flux

Midnight Lights

My eyes overwhelmed and exhausted
My senses burdened and pleading
For a moment of dark silence
To pause in the fray and withdraw

It is not the time to burrow away
You can’t be a bird if you can’t fly
I’m uprooted, ready for liftoff
Perched beneath the glittering star

We are exactly where we need to be
And not altogether lost to each other
Balanced, distant, occupied
Full of thought and feeling every waking hour

I found my feet again, right where I’d left them
I followed my shadow down the road
The midnight lights good company
For the long rolling journey to come

For Rebecca

Dear Rebecca,

There is work to be done. You have lived a solitary life for all of your days, and today is no different. In a big empty house or in a crowded room, you will always feel alone as long as you isolate your pain and keep it reverberating around your skull. It will breed sickness and ailments, stress and dissatisfaction, and you will always be discontent with everything you produce and achieve.

You have already achieved much in your life – have you looked back upon all of your accomplishments recently? What do they amass to? Your life is already filled with experiences and encounters that break down boundaries of space and time. You are a world traveler and you leave an impression on everyone you interact with. Just as you have impressions all over you from those interactions.

Don’t worry so much about the past and your failures. (In fact, just stop using that word. What dissatisfies you are only prototypes and exercises in the great struggle we call existence.) Your feats overshadow those dull and solemn memories, so just let them go already. There is much to build upon, and much more above you than you could ever imagine. Don’t worry about whether the world will love you or hate you. You will meet both adversity and challenges wherever you go.

You thrive in uncomfortable situations, and you shine as you surmount those obstacles. No one can define your potential or path, and you are your own worst critic. Remember the words of your loved ones in your darkest moments. “Wow.” “You are a beautiful person.” “You are amazing and wonderful.”

You have the power to speak both truth and compassion, and you are generous. Give yourself the room you need to extend that same truth, compassion and generosity to yourself. Forgive yourself for your mistakes and move on. There is no progression in stagnation. Don’t ruminate so much on the past; your lost loves and your paintings already completed. There is no reason to stop loving or painting. You can only get better with practice, so practice already! Keep up the good work, and remember who’s rooting for you.

Love,
Rebecca

Jungles

The jungles keep calling to me
Raised on the prairie of corn and beans
I rush for the cover of thicket and thorns
And find shelter among the trees

The skylines beckon for me
I treck and I tumble for distant horizons
A wheel is a cycle of lunar progression
But one step at a time is my pace

A language of culture and life
To describe my sensations, the smoke in my eyes
The mist on the grasses, the ache in my gut
We convene upon threadbare bedding

Patchwork of rosemary, maple and ash
A screen gently sliding to yield to your passing
Distracted and distant, the sparrows and doves
Our expansive chamber of echo and song

The resounding silence, a chorus of numbness
Confusion and questions of absent adventure
We can’t stop the waves from crashing ashore
The sounds of my world will suffice

Lamenting to Lament

My bruised ego shakes in your presence
I can hardly look you in the eye
I wish peace could caress my being
And tell me that yes, everything will be alright

Through the static grooves a historical fiction is resurrected
I know not in what era I find myself
The story is the same in every century
We are hungry, we are lonely, we are discontented
We, the Unwanted, Neglected, Weary and Misled

So abused and tarnished, lamenting to lament
A party of the pitiful
The edge of the hole draws me close
I set the shovel aside and drop to my haunches
The worms digest my sorrow and I harvest them
To snare tomorrow’s dinner

And with luck I will find myself stream side
In the presence of peace and cricket calls
Patiently testing the waters
For fruitful inspiration

Trying to Exist

An old friend reminded me recently of the urgency of existence
He brought to life words once spoken that bring him peace and comfort
that were once an anthem of frustration, aspirations

I respire and retreat into the flow of my breath and blood
Somewhere across the waters he rolls on in friendship and forgiveness
I still lead a life of chaos, a dance around commitments

I strive to focus my needs and desires so we are one
My body is my mind is my spirit is my breath is my blood
And I forgive and forget and remember and regret

The smiles of companions lost to me are pillars and milestones
I do not retrace my path to find them once again
Instead look bak over the valley of my life and admire the view

We have climbed so far, only to keep climbing
Hand over hand my fists grasp the roots above me
My eyes sqinting toward the ledge so close

What will I find at the top is more valleys
and a survey of all surrounding peaks yet to ascend and enjoy
I must embrace this struggle against gravity, wind and sun

Each step and rest brings me one step further from home
one step closer to death
one step only falters if my balance is not calculated and defined

I am poised, stretched, sturdy and strong.
I will and I breathe, for I am only trying to exist.

 

For P. 7-28-13

For Amy

lights glow
burn and fade
in this dank stall of strangers
we are so technological
distant from impulses of the soul
we scramble after possession
and grasp at attachment
the firmer my clutch
the more quickly the fluids flow
I freeze and steady my twitching eye
our gaze meets and I ask you
have you seen the moon lately?
your eyes in an arc
scrutinize the skies
a foxy game
the new moon shines dark
and plays amongst airplanes
during waking hours
have we forgotten our origins?
my bones are made of steel and carbon
my lungs of citrus pulp and rock candy
recenter, refocus
we have lost
our way

4 J (Untitled)

Beside your continental body
Tasting salted winds and sugary sunsets
Carrion runoff swirls in my mouth
And sediment centuries deep builds a
Bed for gestating sealife

Our polyrhythmic cadence
And technicolor melodies
In late midsummer harmony
We balance light against lies
And listen for truth in the treetops

My eyes bleed sapphire tears
To baptize starfish and gull
Shifting dunes in springtime
Churning clouds in fall

Upon winters’ frozen crust I perch in wait
Of snowflakes careless tumbling
White calm, sound paused and still

Atomic vibrations, abundant cataclysms
My grave
is my burrow
is my womb

Sleepy Mountain River

We artists, the sleepy ones
How quickly we slip into sedation
Burrowing into the safety nest
Cowering from the labor of creation

Fruits set bruising on the shelf
Too soon they mold and ferment
Left ignored at their prime
I weep for the waste I carve
From the tender flesh of their bodies

Yesterday’s harvest matures into tomorrow’s feast
For seasons to come my shelves are replete
My cellar runneth over with crocks sour and sweet
To fuel my aching body that craves summer’s heat

Yet the mind too will brown and rot
The fruit flies lazy dance
A silent alarm to tidy the kitchen
Freshen the brewing grounds
For a safe space to experiment and feast

You are not so sleepy
That you will lose yet another hour
Of cool morning sunlight
Gentle steady winds in shades of blue
Leaves upturned, shining as seashells on the coast
To the mountains my river flows

Building a Palace

Building a palace of canvas and sheets of blue fabric

Stitching the flag of this fiborous being

Lashing the frame where it crosses above

Let it stand, overstand, through the night. 

 

Whisper your truth to me, tell me your story. 

Or ask me once more of the meaning around me. 

Our essence consistent with every encounter

Although the translation may change. 

 

Soil above me, my feet in the clouds

I am flying and falling and laughing and crying

The mailman just smiles and laments the weather

No structure supports me today. 

 

I struggle for peace and we wrestle with anger

Intolerant actions distort the whole picture

My eyes to the sunset, my ear to the ground

Let the earth take my body, digest and release

My spirit escapes to the sky.