Series

 

The inkling of morning sets it’s self in motion by the humbling of suited bodies, chirping a

coro-pregón tune, amongst an amber sky forming roughly upon the landscape.

 

 

Within our nature life is a long series of losses and I hope you realize that your success is more than just a race but a symbol.

 

No Wonder,

Being apart isn’t the weeping willow.

The subtext is upon understanding and tentative nature is subverting that understanding.

Grappled with foliage and overwhelmed when putting your heart apart from yours.

The will is unwilling to except the terms but the act is already in motion.

The current is strong and we can both see that.

Wishes will remain wishes because the substance sustains.

Smiling at thoughts of them and frowning when they are actually around. 

It’s hard to get around the pervious sentences thoughts because of conflicts within myself.

I keep holding all my nature’s feelings and thoughts at bay; they must stay.

That’s the great calamity and tension pulling me apart.

No wonder,

Summer With A Breeze

Walking Shadows by Jason Ratcliff

The air casts itself out into breezes. 

The skin begins to luster with moister and postures in a sweltering manner.

Hairs on the forearms glassine with a sheened pigmented tone.

Breathing is regulated by pedal strokes.

Traveling familiar roads, lights that cast their shadows on the landscape.

A few things left standing are climbing a unchanging hill to get home.

The Midst of Mist

I still have that skin crawling sensation when I’m amongst your midst.  The sensation would be described as lips touching skin.  Imagine hairs, on the back neck that grow ever so slightly, calculating like finger nails; that are that exposed when caressed by the subtleties of a hand. The Sensation of the neck being touched with moisture, that protrudes from breath that begins to swelter, and affixing itself when a mindful breath that fogs the skin as if it was glass. The suspense begins by building a means of condensation, through the multitude use of a kissing touch.

I’ve been asked countless times too turn on the fan.  Dialing on the fan with a few clicks it protrudes and omits the noises in the atmosphere so that your mindful conscious may rest.

I want that place again…  I would feel at peace starring at you with either a glancing eye or into your form, being lit by any background landscape that hints at being a shadow.  Sitting amongst you, find that beautiful smile that glows, and persists through your eyes when it looks as if you’re surprised by some feeling inside. 

Parts of Understanding

I find self constantly twisted in the bases of understanding.  It’s a forum of agreeing with one or more parts, even though you may agree with the initial thought - for instance - a moment in time.  When time in brought into prospective it’s accumulative and understanding lays its prickly blanket amongst actual thoughts. Trying to understand the comprehension of understanding will come fighting and you'll get backhanded even if your thoughts are sorting through process.

Agreeing on the known fact of understanding is a treacherous place to climb. At time I find myself dealing with understanding at face value as thought process but other times having to grapple and repel the understanding nature is a tough paradigm.

Planting a Garden

I’ve been away for a number of reasons and honestly to get out of my own head when home.  Don’t get me wrong home is a peacefull place with loving roommates that will put a smile on your face, warmth in the belly, and love in your heart.

When unaccompanied time is found amongst my own room the subconscious slips its weary head into making one feel everything is self’s fault even when you have been told countless times it’s not you.  I begin by doing my self the favor of not compartmentalizing, because it causes a slippery slop of not allowing one self to be consciously conscious of the emotions you are having.  The thoughts and feelings are waves crashing into the side of cliff, but that cliff being ‘self’, the gambit of flooded feeling and emotion are a part of the process.  Telling one self too let it all happen takes courage and it’s a process that needs to proceed.  Once you feel that range of emotion strung out as like a arche ways into a rainbow, it transforms you into a shaman - armed for battle with good and evil.  These forms of thoughts are calculatingly sharp and more radical then this idea of subconscious. The thoughts have neither end nor bound but you have to get to a point of telling your self, “Master your mind and don’t let your mind master you.”