Write It All...Say It All...

You make me smile. You make me lighter; air.
You Cumulus; whipped cream sail like giants.

Kiss me, Sir;
embrace me, Cirrus;

I want to sail with the giants..

Who knows.. but I’ve heard this story and repeat it for my precious friends:

One Night a man had a dream. He dreamed he was walking along the beach with God. Across the sky flashed scenes from his life. For each scene, he noticed two sets of footprints in the sand; one belonged to him and the other to God.

When the last scene of his life flashed before him, he looked back at the footprints in the sand. He noticed that many times along the path of his life there was only one set of footprints. He also noticed that it happened at the very lowest and saddest times in his life.

This really bothered him and he questioned God about it. “God, you said that once I decided to follow You, you’d walk with me all the way, but I have noticed that during the most troublesome times in my life, there is only one set of footprints. I don’t understand why when I needed You most You would leave me.”

Then God replied, “My dear, I love you and would never leave you. During your times of trial and suffering when you see only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried you.”

We are not God.. but as humans we may carry each other.. even in silence.

Who’s to say that every human out there is not Peter Pan. Not in the literal sense, of course, but as social beings…

I’ve made an observation, and that is that people (as the social beings we are), quite simply never grow up.

Allow me to expand on this, yes I feel it is necessary that I do..

Now, we do grow in size physically (obviously), and well we do mature mentally (mostly).. though if you’ve not accumulated enough gray matter by the time your pre-frontal cortex completes formation (21-ish) then you’re put at quite a disadvantage as far as hoping to mature significantly goes.

And I understand that as our brains develop and we gain the skill of abstract thought and add that to all the critical thinking and problem solving skills we acquire during primary, secondary and/or tertiary education then we should pretty much be “adults”.

My point is that the word “adult” to me means just that… everything I’ve listed above by way of biology, psychology, physiology..blah blah.. but also, that when we put ALL of that aside, we’re still the same kids we were; only bigger, smarter (perhaps) and more mature (perhaps)..

Men and women still strut like peacocks in front of each other. We still call each other after work (cause we finished school.. right?) and gossip about work life and home life and love life.

We get older, wiser, but at our core… very little changes in the behavioral environment that surrounds us. We’ll always be known as the jungle out there.

My children, they dance to the beats of my lashes.
Into Love they run,
carefree under the Sun
She twirls and he swirls;
they grow up to become
the boys and the girls

I watch my boys skip
school, they think it’s cool..
my boys light cigarettes laced with
hash; weed and desert skies
the sweet undulation of smoke
weakens their strong ebony lies.

My girls trace their foggy eyes with
kohl, the thick black lines
contrasting the fake blue
of contact lenses; it’s a lie!
Their strong brown eyes burn
Behind them; disguised.

My children complain
that their parents, for them,
“have no time”
Children take to the streets;

Met with seducing sighs..
Girls part their thighs..
Bargained with threatening lies..
(There’s Smoke on the rise..!)
And my screams and my cries
Pierce the sound proof skies..
Because I believed the deception.

Children of children
The paths you’ve paved
Make them dig their own graves

Now abortion rates are on the rise
as doctors butcher babies
on tables; paid under the tables;
they cut them open from the inside out!

My baby girl dies..
Her Mama cries..
Her boyfriend’s eyes
Are still foggy from all that damn smoke.

I’m still waiting for my boys
To put out the Smoke, say “No” to the Fire
Waiting for my boys
To clear out their heads, before they get any higher
I’m waiting for you,
To wipe away my tears,

Tell me you
Swear to stand tall, you won’t fall!
I’m waiting for you to tear down the barriers
And be the men I see, when I dream of you as free.

Everyone has them.. Little things we love to do, but wouldn’t be the first to share with the general mass public. I, personally, have a very long list of guilty pleasures.

Today, I will come out of the closet and reveal one. Betty Crocker Rainbow Chip icing. Originally designed to…well…ice a cake. I, however, on occasion, like to eat it out of the box.

Now, I happen to have a box on the top shelf of my fridge, and today was a day spent doing a few of the things that make me feel great.

I…
1. Cut flowers from the garden to put in my kitchen
2. Made chicken curry, white rice, and salad
3. Drank a cup of Earl Grey tea in the sun
4. Took a very long, hot shower (helped my back pain)
5. Blow dried my hair
6. Watched The Mask of Zorro
7. Received a letter that made me _ (fill in the blank with something really good, I can’t find the right word)(OK, but make it really good)
8. Ate a spoonful of Betty Crocker Rainbow Chip icing

It was a beautiful day…

If the air we breathe is saturated with the essences of souls that have bid farewell to this surface, then I search for Frida in the Azure skies.

In my longing, I inhale her; take her into me. And when she’s traveled through my veins, and heard the pounding of my heart, I’ll exhale her back into the world, to paint the portraits of this ancient soul.

I miss her even when she is within me.

Because, as a species, I find that people are obsessed with quarters and halves, and counting by fives: Midnight, 12:05, 12:10, 12:15, 12:30….

I set my alarm to 4:31, and my second will ring at 4:57.

I’ll leave the house at no later than 6:43. And my students will have 6-12 minutes to complete the “average” assignment.

And if ever someone should ask me, “Why do you live this way?” I will answer quite simply,

“Because there are 60 beautiful, individual, different minutes in any given hour, and I choose to recognize them all.”

... it’s only fair.

We Free
The children of the
21st Century
Living in penitentiaries

We write
To you the authors
Of our social landscape
Our glam-scape

Ehem, “Please..
Stop polluting
Our progressive minds
With archaic corruption.”

We understand
That it’s hard
to let go sometimes…
but destruction

of our creative
young souls
is a social crime
buried under grit and grime.

We Free
The children of the
21st Century
Are climbing out of dungeons

We’re breaking out of towers
And taking back what’s rightfully ours.