Energeticly, speaking

two months and doing my best not to count,
the inbetween carries onward...

poems for the space:

Chapter 33.
Talk about surrendering,
we are the
dwellers on the threshold,
reality has surpassed fiction,
whats alive to you, is
alive in me,
so what is so kind,
in the revolution of radical mind,
staying a'float,
fluid like the rivers
which carve themselves
into the life we reap
through patterns and thoughts
we may or mat not
bring in to existence,
breathe in  to existence,
my bones thrive with trust,
while the mind learns,
to   adjust,
all    the   while,
our souls, go on,
igniting to spark,
the release from madness,
combustion of passion,
the flame that dances
in the night,
the revolution,
of the unspoken light,
which cradles     all        love...
you know,      that   FEELing,
you would,
do    any   thing   for.
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Chapter 35.
It is rather sacred
to create fire
each night,
warming in its glow,
dancing with our shadows,
accepting the duality
within,    allowing the chaos,
to dance it's own dance,
this is where my free will,
lies,
through managing my own,
madness,
bag of stones,
My story,
i tell myself,
and the one i create, each day.
Mastering existence, is some feat!
But what else is one to do,
my spirit is A LIVE
and well,    i will not extinguish
that for some security,
for some illusion of  freedom from fear,
following the set path, is
Assumed, while all the other paths
go on wishing for a Soul's Trust,
To live in revolution
takes a strong heart
and a stubborn, radiKal mind,
Make things different,
by Doing things different,
Alternative actions,
for a sustainable relationship,
some really nice,  psychadelic rock
Elemental atmosphere,
being nurtured by Nature.
__

Chapter 37.
Row your boat,
through the tides of time,
light your rocket,
and jump right on,
fly up And up until,
your bones adjust
to the atmosphere,
let them glow
let them shine
the tiny day dreams,
in the love, corner
of your mind..
Grab the bull by the balls,
tell 'Em you want freedom,
or nothiN' at all,
promise to yourself
the fanciest love you can
create, to the most
radikal, sustainable
lifestyle you can make
relax in the after-math,
of your luck & your faith,
remember your open heart
when the lines become blurred,
and you Miss the Wholey, part
where lemons melt like Lemon Drops,
with a piece of cake, on a walk in the park,
acceptance, of the miraculous,
a, reckon of your own Righteous, Bliss,
 Breathing deeply through rapids,
and white caps,
this is some, SEA,
to gather your lasting, Gasp.
___

Chapter 38.
Maybe we will hit 40
and call it book,
roasted notes,
from the designated lines,
of power and passion,
and how they both must,
transcend until we begin,
to recognize the sacred,
in the present,
the ritual within the mundane,
the love within
the pain,
and the spirit, begging
to be freed from shame,
sometimes the moon, feels right
and the tides, coincide,
what once was Out,
becomes the inside,
my memories and instincts
are where Eyes Find,
the supernatural and Power of mind,
freedom lies,
it indeed does seem,
In the Tall Grass,
and what I choose, to See,
as a magiKal, well,
as I make Believe,
indeed my heart,
races to a different beat,
and all i know, is
what I feel.
__

Chapter 39.
Imagine counting to 40,
with your eyes, closed,
and all see is what
you admit, to not know
remember this with your
open prose, what you
feel inside, will only grow,
feel this, through
all tides and curves,
your path is grateful for your,
fire you fuel, the spirit within,
like you do the love about,
trees, and about plants,
all living creatures, on this
FLoating Globe of Trust and Luck,
write a book,
drive a truck,
count your blessings
and reveal yourself,
unto yourself,
reflection through acception,
of all matters,
of space and paradox,
my riddle knows what my riddle knows best,
sometimes are hard
and the others are what they are,
tread lightly,
and release what wants,
to depart,
__