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Adventure by Ollie

A Search for Purpose in a Random World

Month

May 2017

In conclusion…

I don’t give my heart half-heartedly,

or stumble a bit into love.

One look, one spark, the light in your eyes

was enough to move me.

I am a cliff jumper,

high flyer;

I am insane.

My faith knows nothing of

practicality- I could use a dose of it,

to be sure of my own necessity.

Walk slowly?

Cautiously?

Look both ways?

How shall I,

and what will my conclusion be?

 

 

 

The White Heron and I

I walked side by side with the white heron;

my heart was full of uncertainty,

but he did not flee- he trusted me-

and in this he seemed to say,

“You can handle that which is coming.”

On the Upswing

On the upswing

connecting ball to bat

giving all I had.

On the upswing

feeling high and proud

soaring, crowd gone wild,

ready to run all bases.

“Foul ball” declares the umpire,

and it doesn’t seem fair at all.

Just. Do. It. AGAIN

and again and again and again.

DON’T. GIVE. UP.

Step up to the plate.

Can’t let it make us stop,

keep giving all we’ve got-

won’t be kept down,

held back, pushed around.

KEEP RISING TO THE TOP.

 

 

Beautiful Chaos

down the quiet roads, Spanish moss hanging, overflows,

the darkenss setting in like the folding of cloud upon sun

the street is empty, I am the only one

listen to the wind raise a fury over the earth and sky

such beautiful chaos, but if I describe it this way –

only others may misinterpret, what can words say-

sometimes they do not match my meaning;

and only seem to drift like paper aimlessly

missing every mark purposefully

caught in the grip of chaos – who sees besides me?

 

 

 

Of This I Am Sure

Knowing the trees have something to say,

beyond the scattering of mumbling leaves,

I am standing ready, for an earthly embrace,

sure of my birthing, from dust to dust.

Oh touch and heal, of numbness gone and heard

lay me down beneath the weight of heavy thunder

caress my skin with the pounding of rain, just storm

and let the tide pull me under and under.

I’ve got too many, the masks to hide

too much the scars, so ugly and worn

ease their way into humility, the proud soul denies it

until the wind is moving against the old wounds

and freedom there finds it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Isn’t Love Possessive?

mouse step a way through the forest like

the sky isn’t glitter, pretend

it’s dark and no moon

light, none

so lost, get lost-er, so deep,

get deeper, too hurt,

it’s hurt-er

caught in the prickly vines, and

oh no, no one to rescue you, as if I’d let it,

let it happen, as if you weren’t precious,

my pretty little princess –

isn’t love possessive?

Love is Cotton Candy

Love is cotton candy

sugar and air

and standing there

in the rain

waiting

the bus that never comes on time.

and I was numb, I was numb, was numb, was numb

in the part where I shouldn’t feel numb, feel numb

it was dumb, so dumb, very dumb and numb

in the part, nicest parts, feeling dumb and numb.

put that on my tongue, pretty please on my tongue,

little stamp on my tongue,

sweet cotton.

erase all the need-

too embarrassing

the desire for eyes and lips

on my eyes and lips

hands on my hips

revealing

how you’d rather be numb than one, than one, than one

too much for your fun, not fun, not fun

your thumb on my tongue, now numb, so dumb

little stamp on my tongue,

sweet cotton.

 

 

 

 

 

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