A poet I’m not
But you inspire.
I’ve never had the right words
When you’re a shadow before me.
Instinct begs me
Skip the small talk,
Step right to the universe,
Dip into our souls.
But where do you fall?
Silent we stare at the sky.
The universe begs for more.
Somehow we continue
Strange how the soul calls.
We’re connected by string, where hearts wander others bleed.
It’s your soul, inexplicably woven, interconnected, forever intersecting where we inevitably collide.
We crash and spin, debris scattering this lifespan.
Junkyard hearts rebuilt for our eventual mates, weighted with this tugging of our fates.
I comb my drafts for moments when I was real. A crumb trail back to seconds I couldn’t feel. I throwback sour liquors and sweet wines, one small glass at a time. I tell myself the rest can flood the drain if these will just numb the brain. I wish my life away, churning day dreams. I wait for the moment when my soul detangles from yours When I can no longer feel your heart ache in my bones. I’m afraid If I can’t feel, you’ll cease to be real.
Silence sounds like … Your spirit spinning Out of control to the DJ. Your breath slowing In puffs of hazy cigarette smoke. Your heart pounding Under the soft weight of my hand. Your smile against My hair under the cold moon. The fading drops Of my rocks failing to skip. Your fingers drawing Shivering lines down my back. Silence sounds like … All those things I feel in my soul When your eyes lock with mine And we fall away from time. 143
Originally published here in Dec. 2017. The prompt at the time was silence. Today’s RDP prompt is intimate
I couldn’t let love day go by without something!
I’m in the final weeks of my grad program. Unfortunately that’s meant I haven’t been on here. But if anyone’s interested in my research on investment in clean energy let me know and I may post the presentation here for all to see!
Your soul is a percussive instrument, beating and vibrating, keeping time with the wants and needs bouncing through your mind. You’re projecting, sending pulsing signals out into the world with every move you make, vibrations in colored solar flares to tell every soul what you seek, what they can help you find. We constantly meet and crash, impressing on one another the desires of each other. When my soul met yours it beat so perfectly in tune, moving in beat exactly with mine, complementing every move we made. There was no moment, no hesitation, only total realization. You were part of me and I was part of you, there’s never been another way it could be. Your soul is a percussive instrument and it beats in perfect time with mine.
This was posted in Nov 2017, just over a year ago. It’s not perfect but I’ve always liked it. The prompt of the day was percussive (I think).
Am I crazy or is the dance driving me mad? You lead me, maddeningly, jarringly to the cusp of the stage only to quickly pull me back again. The fire leaps from my chest to your eyes but you douse it as quickly as it began. This delicate dance, fueled by such strong etiquette, seems to be overtaking mind and body. I can’t breathe when the beat is dictating how we speak. I’m not sure why we’re pretending … Or are we again? Perhaps the taptic sound is driving me mad. Your grip is giving you away. I hear the soft echoes sway off the robotic chants.
You’ll never let us fall from this stern count. Am I crazy or is the dance driving me mad?
Once upon a time we collided, as dust against shimmering specters of dust, gods amongst the heavens then. Deep within the earth’s womb, boiling magma against impenetrable mantle, burning away defense mechanisms. Trojan horses against the very walls of heaven you became, melting, molding, galaxies spinning from every shattering sigh.
How could we have seen the way we flowed, you into me, ocean tides unidentifiable against the shoreline. In a rapid, rabid elemental explosion your soul ripped into mine, gently brushing every secret we dared hide. Wrapping them in the wispy, silken age of our souls we stole away pieces of one another. Magnetic, prophetic, we could never hide forever revolving stars in our eyes.