Buddha’s Sister
Dreams are escape from the underground,
I overdose and write it down—
Reality comes
From all around;
Look at this pretty flower I’ve found….
Oh levitatious lofty rest,
At the apex— of my breast—
Come freely wither up to my head,
To fill this frazzled treasure chest.
When I go— I’ll promise us
Not to fail
Not to fuss,
To leave a trail
A trail of trust—
A trail
of guardian angel dust.
In the Nether Either Ever World.
I turn around
Unsung
Unfurled.
A swirling how;
A doubt excused,
This junk draw is only used
To store bits
Of the now.
Time has bruised
My fleshy crown.
Never forget that it’s always then.
When you do everything all over again.
You knew that.
You think between.
The tube is a tangled option machine—
There’re many selections from black to green.
Top to bottom
Squeaky clean;
Sometimes I drink too much caffeine
And my thoughts are infectiously rendered obscene.
However, if weeds can give you cancer—
Spade the dirt in your mind forever.
You mustn’t neglect to turn the soil.
And prepare the answers for the weather.
Poet’s can sing and leave you bewildered.
For ever-y-thing is preview filtered.
Maybe they convey
more than usually featured
Or maybe they pray
for every creature.
And those awesome things
we all go through,
That same old dragon
chasing you—
Swooping in
to rip out the truth
Like sociopaths
trying
to have their world too.
Anxiety is the sister of Buddha.
(2013)
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