Dangerous Actors

A covert spy,

or –

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a covert narcissist?

Sometimes they act the same.

Both, at ease with lying,

down their noses at you with

their non-dilated gaze.

They’ll twirl their words

wearing their poker face.

They maneuver you and their ass-

urances

across a dance floor waxed

with love that lasts,

or so they say.

A fine performance, indeed.

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Piscean Experience

Swimming in and out

of the here,

 and

the now.

My mind is a fish that

dives into the depths of ideas.

Emerging to the surface to

say, “hello loves.”

Trying not to get caught in perception-nets of

the ‘now’ that felt like

the past,

and something I knew

before.

   Déjà vu, yes and sometimes,

something else, possibly more.

Distracted, Fractioned, Shattered

 

Distracted, Fractioned, Shattered

 

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Or do you meet your own,

in the shiny screens of distraction?

Fractioning your

cares,

 

loves,

 

shat-

tering,

 

scat-ter-ing,

 

into

 

the

 

oblivion.

 

Don’t break your heart on your own scattered attention.

 

Love Beyond

Maybe it’s your smile

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that’s so familiar.

Or, maybe it’s your face that I’ve always known.

Our connection transcends

time and space.

We’ll keep meeting in no specific earthly place.

Maybe I’ll see you in our dreams,

or spinning in the heavens and cosmos ,

or some funny place between

technology and electric communication

beeps and dings.

 

However we meet, know you always have my heart

without any strings.

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The Sound of Success

Successes, yes, acknowledge them.

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But notice how much applause you need for them.

 

Maybe you only need your own,

clapping hands.

Not the

clap,

clap

clap, clap

clap, clap, clap,

clap, clap, clap, claps

of hundreds in unison.

Because that noise,

eventually

drowns

the truth

of what

your heart beats

for.

Bench/Bitch-Marks & Soap Bubbles

Seeing the bench marking your ass

from sitting down and getting

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goals done –

for someone else,

it wore, but didn’t hurt.

 

Don’t stress about those bench, or bitch-marks,

because that won’t help your dreams hitch.

 

Pitch your dream to God, the Universe,

it’ll get tossed back to you.

Maybe not how you imagined,

but bigger than that.

A rolling shimmery ball,

like those iridescent soap bubbles you blew with the wind

way back when.

Now,

it’s so big and radiant,

You can’t put your arms around it,

or break it.

 

It’s yours –

to transform,

to follow,

to share.