Boldly see blossoms
fruitful truth
become obscured and
deformed by lies
Weeds set free by powerful breath
wishing
scattering
overtaking
Certain crops can’t survive
Ignorant
Force confuses enough
Blindly burying truth so deep
New growth won’t rise
unexpectedly helpful truth
Buried

Pathways

Saturate the idol with a figment of power,

And you will find a fate-changing flower,

Iridescent lights in the sixty-watt shower,

Creating strength, in the groove, in the path,

*

Confirmation of an intriguing notion,

Visions that lure an unreal emotion,

Diligent work spent on devotion,

Such a waste, fail to cross, to a new path,

 *

In the rising travel to find what dreams yield,

Synchronicity is uplifting, (a plain thing)

In the vast expanse of this energy field,

The ground is ever-shifting:

 *

Shifting shapes in the rain, rising up to the sky,

Misty memory reflects all that you think,

And I think if I fall I will surely:

Dive deeper, into this massive mental landscape,

.*

Border dreams, real as rock, where’s the path?

Gridlock,

Shaking heads, shaking thoughts,

Can’t get through, Gridlock

*

Consequential change of the integrated feeling,

Brings a far-fetched mood that sends me reeling,

Enduring trance set by the cosmic dealing,

Just from proof, of a move, in the path,

*

Ever-present desire to succeed and challenge,

Fragments of time hang on the nervous door hinge,

In the skies there is a fiery orange,

In the brain, in the mood, in the path,

*

In minute thoughts we process and explore,

Infinite possibilities passing,

With immaculate balance I reach for the door,

But still I find myself grasping:

*

Grasping leaves as I run, as fast as I am free,

Factual forest, reflects all that you think,

And I think if I fall I will surely

Dive deeper, into these firmly grounded beliefs,

 *

Waking dreams, real as rock, there’s the path: Gridlock,

Shaking hands – shake in shock,

Must get through: Gridlock,

Peace of mind from lucid talk,

Flowing through,

Gridlock

Porous mind,

Days fill my brains,

Is the flood:

Mountain river streams,

Or is it human grey?

Sudden fury of pure nature,

and of human strains,

We all face the heat of life,

in the permanence of the day.

Adapt yet hold fast this wondrous shape,

Ice may not seem aqueous,

Just then it sublimates

The nearby mountains sing of life in the foothills,

Not much beats the stellar’s jay and squirrel’s shrill,

The lurking clouds hold a bold chorus key,

The murky shores echo local forestry,

All join together with wind and the sunshine,

The lake and our fate orchestrate for this one time

Finding the Light like a Crow’s Flight

I live in the shadow of my own dream,

For days and days I climb over mounds of

Buried plans, mud-sliding under my feet,

A giant excavator is pouring,

Obstacles of truth, and my boot gets stuck,

Just like a child at play, I leave the boot,

Now wallowing in piles of ideas,

And so filthy, I cannot go to school,

A mess, marked by the mire of the shadows,

Going back to retrieve my sure-footing,

What would the classmates say, or the teachers?

‘Just go home son, and come back tomorrow’,

This is not a choice for me now, adult,

There is no tomorrow, only here and now,

Covered in half-baked mud and crud, I rise,

Can you question the state of the worker?

Fresh from the job, in constant toil, no rest,

Make no assumptions with all I have seen,

I climb to the top of the slope, grabbing

The roots of trees hanging where mud erodes,

Scrambling for the light of my goals and dreams,

My fingernails thick with dirt, I climb up,

And soon lay past the treacherous incline,

Panting, gasping, sweaty, covered in grime,

Sit up:  look for the success of such steps,

A full forest shields the light I look for,

Dense woods, cedar and pine scraping the sky,

I can hear the echo of my own hopes,

I walk through grass and brush,

The fierce scolding of a crow reaches me,

The sun sets far beyond tangled forests,

It is getting late – I will take no chance,

The dark forest may go on endlessly,

I wait for the moon to tell the future,

I have been right: tomorrow does not begin,

I sleep in the wilderness with dark dreams,

In the morning, the sun rises again: today,

Steam follows, orange, and magenta skies,

Even the shadows hide, on my day of thoughts,

I am free to search the forest for truth,

Even to look far for the other side,

Today I tread over mulch, branches and leaves,

Skip across creeks, and reach down to taste cold water,

Wash my face in the mountain run-off,

Try to make sense of it all, and build plans,

What will I do with the light and the night?

Who will be the guide: the sun, moon or stars?

When the path is a reflection, like in the moon,

Is our shadow more awake?

Or do we live in pure form, as we always follow the sun?

As the truth builds mountains: can we climb through?

Or climb over, respected for the work,

We make our decisions wise each day,

Dreams hold clear ties to the light,

and follow the crow’s flight

Goals

To only be immutable, irrefutable and cool not cold,

Enjoy seven to eleven and be as bold as we are told,

Never to be confused, or in any way abused,

But patience is the difference that it makes,

Don’t forsake the good friends,

Make no truth to be too intense,

Even if we might make a few mistakes,

To just enjoy the calm of silence, without the violence, and find a truth to trust,

Forget the blame, because it is all the same, we all like to live by our lust,

Not to condone sin, but let everyone known in,

Sometimes to be real, depends on how we fake,

Don’t forsake our good sense,

Watch the time we sent false pretense,

Know the pay off in equivalence we make,

Do only what we know is right, don’t cause a fight, and think it through,

Learn peace is found in the clear bold sound of the goods we chose to be true,

Not to pretend love, but when push comes, why then shove?

Soon to see there is one clear way we will succeed,

Don’t misread what to say,

Or do time that we should not pay,

But work hard to reach goals with our quick speed

Freedom can provide us with opportunities to observe nature,

Freedom is intermittent,

Like rain, it may start in a torrent,

Or leave as a mist,

It can come and go in gusts,

Or hover in the clouds indefinitely,

The drought is wicked,

Floods can be worse,

Then we gather our senses

*******

Had to finish these twitter poems.  I’m thinking of writing other works, if I get some free time!

Freedom, to me depends on mood and situation more than anything. If anxiety or suffering creeps in, parts of freedom, or some perception/visions of freedom can fade.