The red hot sun is like napalm on the earth today, but not here. This place of beauty, where the trees, housing the birds that sing such sweet melodies, grow tall and firm; where the smoke delicately rolls off of the inscent and through my lips. Where the grass sunbathes, in its abundance of green. This place is perfect. This place is exactly where I want to be. This place is home. 

They dance elegantly across the sky;

Their majesty, simply so far away. 

But still intriguing to my weary eyes,

These glimm'ring things exalt life to this day.

The sky looms overhead as a disease,

Mountains engulf the sun; it fades to black.

I sit here and I wait, my soul appeased,

Though happiness, this place, it seems to lack.

Across the darkened land they flicker on,

The wind is calm and everything lies still. 

All sense of any puissance now gone; 

A crispness in the air; a subtle chill. 

I watch 'til morning comes and day's renewed,

Enthralled by wondrous chaos in my view.

Funny

Funny how we expect everyone to have the same perceptions as we do; how we see only the best in others. How we forgive time and time again those who don't deserve it, and shut out those that need a second chance. How we try so hard, but no matter what, it seems to never be hard enough. All of these things that wear and tear at us, bringing us beyond overwhelmed. All of these things, that are supposed to ultimately make us stronger. Yet we never feel like we're really becoming any stronger, simply like we're spinning in circles, going absolutely nowhere. Funny how we always find a way to blame our faults on everything around us, without ever considering that maybe, just maybe, the problem lies within the man in the mirror. 

Funny how none of these things are actually funny. 

Forward

Sometimes we will falter

Sometimes we will fail

But always, through dark days,

We somehow prevail.

No matter how fragile,

No matter how frail, 

No matter how vibrant,

Nor however pale.

Whether climbing a mountain,

Or rotting in jail,

My friend, you must never

Let passions grow stale.

This World

The cool breeze caresses my face as I inhale the sweet, sweet aroma of the freshly brewed coffee grounds. Morning is a time to be peaceful; to allow myself to remember how beautiful this earth on which we walk is, and how blessed we are to have been placed upon such an astounding phenomenon. Some much needed reflection, as I breathe in the crispness of the air, until I waste away the remainder of the day, behind a desk, in a fucking chair. 

Cup of Tea

A cup of tea

The tea is green

My soul's appeased

This calm evening 

The birds will sing

Delightful things

I am intrigued..

This is indeed

My cup of tea

Cigarettes and Coffee

Here I am. Sitting by my garden, awaiting the completion of my sun tea, quietly listening to the beautiful melodies from the birds that have made themselves present in my backyard. What a gorgeous day! The swings are slowly swaying back and forth, caught in Mother Nature's calm, steady breathing. The subtle rustling of the leaves. How peaceful to observe all of this, as I sip from this ceramic mug while ashes fall from the tip of my burning roll of dried leaves.