Her cool briny fingers touched my face
while she kissed my lips with salty breezes.
I was her and she was me.
I am the sea.
From the depths of the abyss dry bones rattle.
Monstrous fish of the deep mouth them looking for scraps of flesh.
The sea makes a watery grave as it gives food to those living there.
Men frolic and play where they should not.
Their playground is my home.
We connect in violence, teeth and blood.
I’m usually the victor.
It’s my habitat, you see.
Shark and man can’t live together in the bath that is the sea.
When sea and wind bind angrily together,
They scheme to take the souls of men and
make matchsticks of their wooden vessels.
When sea and wind bind angrily together,
the perfect storm is formed.
I’m waiting for you.
I’m churning and angry.
I grab your ankles and rip your footing away.
I’m a joker.
I give you just one way to get away but first, you come with me.
I’ll let you go.
I’m the riptide of the sea.
Into the abyss
dark and deep is man’s lost soul
albino seas bloom.
The din of the world can be hard on the soul.
It confuses the mind with tangled thoughts and broken dreams.
Come to me and let my waves wash over you making all things grey.
Let my salt breezes cleanse your soul and quiet your mind.
In my wake is the clarity of sea worms and coral.
Shells and sand can scrub out the blemishes of a dark life.
Enter my depths and let the ebb and flow make tunnels under your feet.
Leave me then, quiet and still, thankful for the rabbles’ end.
I am the sea.
I am all things to some men.
It holds secrets forever, lost in the watery abyss.
Lean over the edge and whisper it in.
Forever it will be sailing downward, downward to inky blackness.
Blackness where the white things are. Albinoed and spiked and many teethed.
Blackness where the monsters are. Blackness where man cannot reach.
Lean over and whisper it in and feel the release. The release of the sea.
Water and brine and chutes of steam and caverns.
Whisper it in and feel the release.
Feel the release of the deepness of the sea.
NaPoWriMo #3 #napowrimo
Slowly, silently, now the moon
Shines upon us, bright as the noon.
Waxing and waning with a pull on the mind
The makes us and breaks us with a mental decline.
Lunacy they say is hidden in that glow
That starts so far away, so soft and lo–
With each quarter, each half and each full
The sea is renewed, sands stirred by its’ pull.
Night comes alive, the dark things come in its’ wake.
The people of the underbelly, emerge with a shake.
Off come the barriers with the cry of the loon.
Slowly, silently, now the moon.
It has been a day. Tiring. Boring. Exhausting.
Familiar ailments increased my malaise.
Good intentions went unfulfilled.
They will wait for another day.
Jangled and jargled is my only nerve.
I need the sea and the call of the timeless waves.
I need to breathe deep the salt of the sea and dive.
Dive into the salty depths of the hypnotic drone of crashing.
Swirling, deep caramel aromas fill the air.
Down the roan liquid goes, warm and sweet.
There it is.
An easing, a dulling, a blurred edge.
Tomorrow is a new day with a new nerve.
Tomorrow is a new day with new intentions.
Now finally, I feel the call of sleep.
I listen to my waves of the sea,
artificially infused into the air by my ipod.
It will do.
I need the sea.
I brought it to me.
I lay visualizing the roaring water,
foaming and glinting from the sun.
It has been a day.
Tiring. Boring. Exhausting.
Hope for a new tomorrow has begun.
Last night I was dreaming. About what I can’t recall.
Now in the light of day it was a good time.
I was most interested, then odd and out of the blue,
I heard a voice yell, “MOM.”
In my dream, like an alarm.
It fit nowhere with anything that was happening.
Awoke I did. The time was not 3:15AM.
Dark was all.
Was it my REAL child? Was something happening and she called me with her mind?
Those circumstances would be dangerous for her.
I got up just to see. I sleep in the other wing. Isolated and alone.
I padded heavily back to her room and all was well.
I peeked in to see drawers half open, clothes on the floor.
Typical room. Typical teen.
I went to her. Pulled the covers back slightly and she stirred.
Her eyes opened but she did not see me….really.
This morning she had no recollection of my visit.
That call puzzles me still.
It was a voice of alarm from another place.
Me, it wanted. Me.
I hope she is alright
I could not get to her.
Call again……I am here!
jagged edges pierce the night.
bright shards of light break the darkness.
odorious, ozone currents of plazma blue the air.
drummers pounding on a million skins wake the silence.
deep rumbling shakes every soul.
broken is the sweet envelope of slumber.
a single drop leads to a sunami of liquid sunshine.
steady downpours purge the earth.
the afterscent is a clean, fresh perfume.
Catepillars are inching their way to transformation into gossamer-winged beauties. Buds peek from their winter graves enticed by bright beams and buzzing bees. Flittering are the squirrels racing hither and to. Gliding and jumping and gathering food.
Morning is filled with a cacophony of sound. Sit. Quietly listen to a plethora of bird song. Spoiled breath from the night is renewed by cool ribbons of air. Kissed by dew and cooled by the moon, it freshens the day. Sunlight streams in forming mirror images on the sheetrocked walls. A new day has begun. Spring has sprung.
Each Day I look,
Searching for a bud.
It has not bloomed in over two years.
Still I wait.
I wait for the green on which the world runs.