Mud In The Guts

Mud in the guts when you walk silent nights where dark houses stretch imagination back to a simpler time when strangers weren't enemies and trust grew hidden roots in the ever growing heart scape of infinity.

Mud in the guts when a blazing girl on the bus burns holes through your book with a deadly stare birthed from the center of the sun. Hours pass and thoughts of her still travel the bright sky ways of u.f.o. sightings. A dangling voice hangs in the room of your mind like a splinter asking "why didn't you talk to her dum dum." Courage was tongue tied in beauty.

Her soft face gazing out the window, solemn, dazzling, hot tracks from unknown albums casting spells in her ears. I watched her vanish when the bus emptied. My heart beating bat wings in the cave of secret longings caused by the sudden stirring of loud invaders.

Mud in the guts when a true love pours out from the closet. Try to stay focussed on Now but long thoughts walk through sunsets and burn you twice again. Wedged between silence and Florida tangerine I fall to melt to watch cold stars blink questions and regrets at me while my trembling hands crave fire places with flames reflected in her eyes and love flowing in her touch which has the potential to burn away icebergs while the rising sea floods coastlines, sometimes it's hard to find higher ground.

Mud in the guts when the pages are white staring blankly at you like a corpse. Inside you there is a giant with something important to say, but a crafted surgeon snuck in your secret cave at 3 a.m. and sewed his lips shut. The giant is pounding at the walls of your silence but nothing is coming through. Florida tangerines are being crushed in the creative silence of white page furies and stolen keys that have access to the kingdom.

Mud in the guts when hope starts slipping harsh mud slides down the slopes of what used to be. Try not to panic in crisis. A dirty face has lots to say to the handcuffs of society.
I lean in close to the future
Ear to the ground
Keep visualization a framed precious picture hanging with good intent and love.
Don't get nailed to lost
Swells
I went through many rip tides
Grazed in harsher judgments through the pasture of myself-
Became the fight on both sides let the rusty chains be gone
By the grace of strength and growth
I hurdle obstacles in the blizzard,
Fell the far distance into darkness
Came back different
With every wound.
Found lessons in humility
No greater teacher than the ancient wizard who also knows the master.
And a giant in between the two trying to sing your forest.
Good blessings to every angel who travels dark roads far from home. My love is wide and endless, it travels powerful to every outskirt, it's the most powerful source I know. There is a scrappy Giant, his arms are thrown to YOU. He connects us close like brothers and remembers other places where other roads exist.
He comes to me with truth
And knows me more than I
He hears my steady call
When my thoughts wander out, I still believe there to be a safe kingdom if and when we die
Inside a flowing heart
Moonlight carves my secret path
There's power in recognition
A sweet goodness in the spirit of All Creation,
The best I've ever known
All my words dance in silence
Inside your living, endless poem.

My breathless awe is constant
My new wonder like a web
Catching light between the branches
Holding treasures to life advancements
I've dived in many cocoons of transformation
I feel the dew reshape the landscape
New eyes that catch the rain.
Generous. Wise. And Kind.

Mud in the guts when the heartbreak of the world crashes head on to the sensitivity of your eyes that keep getting stabbed by many hands swinging hammers through Windows, shattering love as if it was a meaningless toy that nobody cares about. My curtains blow where glass used to be like a restless ghost begging to be seen again by anyone. Sitting beside memories there lays the giant that is screaming inside his silence, his dreams washing phantom Windows, his love beating rain storms in Amazon jungles. Only I have the power to save him.

Mud in the guts when darkness steals your light and worshipped echoes start to clash in canyon walls of promised lands. I'm sliding on moonlight trying to reach the water so this aching Ray has a place to reflect on something other than the solitude of itself. Cries of the forest gather together to express waves smashing against battered rocks in the heart.

Mud in the guts when your reach for home falls short to the door in your heart. Keep pulling and pushing, something has to give soon or suffer the crackling thunder of exposed cracking streets, where hopeless ones huddle against cement walls, their bright Windows shattered out by their secret stories that blew the candle out like a icy Gale from an arctic zone.

Who were they before the ice came and froze their hopes and loves?

Keep walking through moonlight visions
All the silence of giants trying to rip open their lips to sing with the forest. No guarantees but the firm belief of hope and reselience. A cricket hanging onto a branch in high winds. The mind: a turbine of power on either side of the fence holding onto moonlight waves trying not to get destroyed by the storm.

Mud in the guts when rainfall hits the dirt lot.

I can watch the dry dust of what used to be become a dirty lake.

Keep listening for the steps and creaks of hope walking on moonlight decks above you, somewhere in this sea of silence a giant burns to rise again and flush the mud away.
Become my hero that I can look to and keep the Giant singing from the challenged outpost of my silent, engraved heart.

Reviews

[Scott Lee]

Thank You Chris. A huge compliment coming from a master wordsmith such as yourself.

[Chris]

I read this three times - because I wanted to.