Sunshine morning breezes of orange blossoms,
and the houses of my neighbors
in blue, pink, beige, and white…
Planted well and flowering for hummingbirds,
Smiling with delight anew each day –
I sometimes kneel and bow to it.
It is so beautiful…
ocean mist every morning…
and at dusk…
the sunsets and the stars…
they are alive.
Residue of every direction
slipping through my mind
tickling my teeth….
Squeezing the ribs of my morning
like a twister of hissing death…
Space questions answered
what are the answers now, for humankind?
Peace, Peace, Peace.
Light as air.
Turning dollars in the wind,
gold nuggets and gold dust sifting through my spleen,
like a worm swimming through the aquarium of a changing body.
Gold dust, gold thoughts, sinking as a grave.
Rising as a spirit in Spring.
Reversing everything, or not.
Rose gardens and white gables.
Houses and haunts and everybody in between.
Skeleton closets and a new dress.
I have the hair of a gray ghost.
The pale face of Death.
Be here now.
Be the rescue.
Be the Win and the Winner.
For all of us.
The southern snow covers my past tense existence with the comfort of distant gazing.
Looking out onto the former attachments and struggles I once thought made life so dear,
shivering in the hot California sun, I remember from my January, how grateful feels.
For that which is new and brave, effortless to the point of terror for its beauty and
fragile for all its glory.
I am the transcendent eggshell container of this outrageous bravado we call True Love –
as tearable as a butterfly wing and as forward as the summer bull,
unstoppable and wings to the fire, ready.
I welcome all that terrifies me newly in the face of Love.
by January Fieldz
Wasted by the idle Porter
the roadkill of souls in the afterlife
heave their misery in the face of a LSD breathing man machine
waiting in the shadows of the in-between like choking crawlers.
Shitting new sin into the face of old…
God immortal watches on with all that is Holy,
calling for courage and fire, astride
a caravan that is all but, comprehensive.
And the stars, the fire, the light and the love….
and all that carry the Holy spirit in their heart
have nothing left to do but, sharpen their arrows
and ensure sanctuary for the living.
by January Fieldz
Pink phospheresense lights towering
against a pale aqua November sky….
Dark purple clouds, drifting silently,
daintily with feeling.
Do they know that I love them?
Or just watch on, impartial?
Please know, that it is with passion that I everchange.
Alongside you for dear company so that you or I –
were n’ere alone.
Oh my Lord,
I call upon you to bless my mother, my family,
the very planet I walk upon…
Tears streaming, it is only You, to turn to. Who else?
Who else shall know of all things? In every dimension,
and planetary body? Who else to bless all things?
When all seems lost and broken?
There is only One Healer and One Hero ~
God the Good. Hater of evil, punisher of the wicked and…
Mender of everything.
In this Taj Mahal,
gold light filling every room,
every glance I take – is testimony to your tender Love and care.
Never be far from me, Lord.
Live in my breast forever.
And when you see fit,
keep me to yours.