I Used To Dream Of Death

Dreams to have while walking home from the library

I read of mangroves, coastal forest far away protection against monsoons, a gnarled seawall –  nature standing up against its watery cousin who would sometimes threaten death when cousin cried and overflowed with tears.

But mangroves are far away, small black and white image printed on trees so far from arboreal, trunks whittled down and forced into a single, bleached dimension to serve such a purpose now as to show a photo of a mangrove.

Just as flat and white, but the moon seemed closer that night. Closer than mangroves and monsoons. Back down to this autumn scene, now the maples stand burning all crimson Maroon leaves.

Monsoon trees. There is life here and now, then there is life in pictures and words. Our minds catch both in one fell swoop and they dance together in their captive company, lightly stepping but sometimes intersecting in their closeness – the impossible twirling of stony boughs become a nest for the granite moon, immobile limbs graced with the agility of dreams. Fancy flying one thought to the other, closing the distance and realizing two worlds mingling in an elegant, chaotic embrace. Mangroves holding the harvest moon, from both the truth and I so far, but so beautiful.

As far as animals to be afraid of, deer rank pretty low. From afar, a deer is harmless certainly. Docile, wide eyes, silent staring before they bound away. But if you’ve ever been up close, that likely means you’ve found one trapped. Wounded maybe. Only then will you realize what fear does to a prey animal. If you wander too near, the acrid smell of desperation and deadly will to live is pungent in each flare of its nostrils. Then all of a sudden that deer seems much bigger, and fiercer, and you really ought to back away, but your brain works slower than its instincts, and you’re about to discover that hooves are like rocks and like knives, and those legs are longer and your head is closer than you would ever like. And for a split second, you, apex predator, will understand prey-fear.

Perfect nightmare

Here they come into my perfect castle, eating up the walls of clay. Digging into it with teeth and muscle, making holes with sharpened nails. The dark night predators in shiny armor are coming deep inside of me. And now they're stealing all my power, taking everything I have to give. But it's their eyes that's magnetizing and their voices hypnotizing, I don't dare to wake up from this perfect nightmare

written by sadeast

Maybe we are not at any center of the universe but at the very bottom of it, looking up.

Praying for autumn, as we all do, we ask for mundane to hibernate a pounding heart at last . At last .

the world is getting so ugly and bleak and it’s hard not to feel so hopeless. but we have to remember that they want us to feel that way.

it reminds me of this quote by dan savage - “During the darkest days of the AIDS crisis we buried our friends in the morning, we protested in the afternoon, and we danced all night, and it was the dance that kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for.”

joy is resistance. it’s really scary times but we are all in this together.

Like a Darkness

Stitching wounds with words

the pain remains but we smile

and pretend the blood was always there,

.

Singing dirges forged from dogma

my breath is a stranger standing

on the back porch with screen door open

torn between the sunset and the silence

that waits in the shadows in the front room

because the trick is to learn how not to

hear feel hurt dream hope sing want need

the trick is to tell yourself that all of this

was what we wanted from the very start,

.

We live in a derelict wonderland

empty streets abandoned houses

cars rusting next to single wide trailers

boarded up stores the old school crumbling

more people but not here no not here

where rusted barbed wire remembers

but we don't

Ain't it strange?

TV antennas like ancient talismans

that failed their only task which was

to let the world in three channels at a time

and keep us all from losing ourselves

inside of someone else's dreams

in artificial worlds that fade

as soon as nobody watches,

.

Your favorite song is playing forever

a transmission eternally out of reach

turn your eyes up to the stars

they aren't there but aren't they beautiful?

If we're lucky someday somebody

will say the same of us

feels like every few weeks I have to relearn how to exist, that I do need to sit in the sun and move my body and not drink too much coffee and dress in clothes that make me feel good and talk to my friends and journal and get off my phone sometimes and eat vegetables and drink more tea and generally reclaim the space in my life for myself ya know

Happy Imbolc!

Snowdrops in the snow.

What Makes a Man

What makes a man

Is being gentle

When we’re irate

It’s being humble

When we are great

It’s finding love

Amongst the hate

What makes a man

Is supporting one another

Building each other up

Picking up the pieces

When everything goes toes up

It’s shaking hands

To heal rifts

It’s being generous

With our gifts

What makes a man

Is helping friends

And making amends

It’s recognizing mistakes

And fixing them with haste

Boys may fight

But men do what’s right

That’s what makes a man