Son and the Sun

Waking up before son, but not before sun- she can’t wake if she’s never slept.
It’s nice for the land and animals to catch what she touches before I do.
I go to welcome her a few times a year. I think I want it to be more; she always tells me she appreciates it when I appreciate her.

Just to hear the train whistle and the morning birds caw their way through a gossiping cluster, I sit awake in the middle of the week.
I need to get still so I can be better.
I need to breath deeper so I can locate patience.
I need to enter my conscious before I access my vocals.

People like fire for roasting hot dogs and marshmallows, they even like it for passion and direction. For motivation and drive.
Not for the flare in the eyes or the tone of the sound. Not when flames mean the lash and the scold. You end up burning your own feet.

So sun, I know you’re hot but can you help me cool my insides.
So son, I know you’re seven, but can you help me be five.

There were no fires there. There were no fires then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Control your Fire

You know when you flick your lighter at a rag soaked in gasoline?
And it bursts into a heat you automatically want to drop?

Sometimes we get those moments. And it is not passion that’s ignited.
It is anger.

Our immediate thought is,  ‘Must stop whatever made me feel this.’
And many many many of us launch with all that initial flame, into an uncontrolled reaction.
We only think with that burst and we don’t let the fire tone down to it’s more brilliant element; calamity.

Feel that fire, acknowledge it and then wait. Slowly go forth when you feel the heat has subsided- in you still but not enough for you to boil over.

We burst into flames all to quickly. Let’s try and wait it out. We’ll only get better by trying.

Approach the problem when you are calm.

You are more respected if you have yourself under control.

Make your fire healthy , not hazardous.

 
Make it heart warming, not heart burnt.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finally this Fire

I built a fire of gusto
shaved my legs
and told myself I’d wait.

I climbed a tulip
named my breath Beauty,
and claimed I knew my fate.

By the start of the hour,
I’d shown eager my power
and built my garden of roses.

I dug deep into dirt,
placed Beauty inside
and waited for morning to come.

I stood on branches of wind
grew warmth with the heat,
and saw I had
forever won.

For when morning came
I had fate by the hand,
skin as smooth as your land,
and breath that breathed

finally,
a fire of love.

I’ll Get to Here in a Rhyme

I’ll shark my way into the system of casual beaded motion.

I’ll take the drops from the bottom of the Atlantic ocean

and
I will make fish swallow the universe.

 

I’ll clip my choices on the everlong bend of wire.

I’ll take a match and light the whole fucking thing on fire

and
I will make the clouds blow into the sea.

I’ll soul my self with a thumbtack of sewing.

I’ll take a boat and I’ll do all the rowing,

and
I will land on ground that feels like a steady world of strength and power.