You are not alone in your anxiety
You are not alone in your fear and
You are not alone in your pain or wondering.
You see, I, and many are with you
We feel it all. We feel it, we do.
But life is still beautiful
Beautiful as flowers, beautiful as you
If you only look for it.
We do, too. Find it in and around you.
Your hyper-star gaze
Visceral in my throat punch
Smile cocked like a gun
Checking my tires
Popped them like a mail gun
Tell me wicked little secrets
Titillate me with your devilish desires
Wake me stupid with your dirty charms
Til I sleep in nevermore
Choke me lurid with your tailspin
Wake me stupid from a daydream
Take me weakly with your left hand
Lullaby me nevermore
“No reason to lie when you can shock them with the truth. It’s more interesting anyway,” you said.
Lentils, cooked or not, are still lentils. They just smell different. I squeezed them tightly in palm of my hand.
“Anthony, why’d you give me cooked lentils? That’s so weird. Why are you so weird?” He always loved lentils. The red kind, not the green.
“Anthony. Darling. Let’s walk up this hill and catch the last sunset together. It’ll be worth it. I’ll buy you a home by the sea, just like you wanted.”
You asked me why.
“Because that’s what people do when they love each other, Anthony. That’s what we do.”
For the unforgettable – Ecuadorian flute bearing – MJ.
Connection is what it’s all about. That’s no secret.
Archangels, warriors – calling all creators. Keep singing. Keep dancing. Keep moving. Keep making. Keep CREATING. Keep doing what you were made to do.
You are more powerful than you know. Your work is more important than you know. You ARE love.
March to the beat of your own drum – you’re a warrior.
“I didn’t do much for the past few days, but you know what I did do, this morning I saved a caterpillar and put it back in the woods where it belongs. And that put the biggest smile on my face.”
“You know, the thing about caterpillars and transformation is – before you turn into the butterfly, you have to be goo. Literal goo. You have to go into the chrysalis for a while.
And I’m just going to tell myself today, right now you have to be okay with being goo.”
True places never are. – Herman Melville
Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life? – Mary Oliver
I received a guest poem through my contact form. This is why I love New Yorkers:
Name: like say steve or something
Comment: Around it goes. Falls back again
Always to the same spot. We walk opposite to sides unmet.
Where we meet in between
Still ends don’t meet
I see you there.
We are incomplete.
Where to build a bridge across
From how do I discover.
Maybe if I walk all the way back
Will I find you on the other side again?
Around in circles
Did I miss on the way back?
Well, I guess not completely in circles
For each time I get to the end
You are still on the other side.
From how do I build a bridge to make ends meet?
Around we go, fall back again
Always to the same spot
We walk opposite to sides unmet
I asked Siri the title of your blog, I read like half a poem and wanted to write my own,
20 something new yorker
Dreamers, keep dreaming. We aren’t the hopeless romantics; the world has it wrong. We are the hopeful romantics. Dream on. Live on. Love on.