Ah, the craziness that life brings,
playing in the stratosphere of imagination
I get lost amongst the tallest dreams
that rise like trees
in the forest.
Thick and rich with depth,
overflowing like the rain that falls,
filling a river in the wild,
I pluck the flowers of the minds garden
and build a bouquet of goodness,
and content with the creation,
rest easy at the end of the day
and rise to greet tomorrow
with a grateful heart.
Good morning friends,
As you can see here, I’ve been busy again in the publishing world. My newest creation, Diary of a Middle-Aged Mermaid, arrives via E-book on Saturday, August 3rd, and the paperbook should go live on Monday, August 5th.
The wheels have already been set in motion for the sequel to Tales From The Thrift and are chugging along nicely. I want to say thank you for any of you out there who have purchased the E-book or paperback version, or downloaded the Free Kindle Unlimited version of Tales From The Thrift. It is your support that keeps me motivated and uplifted in spirit, and for that, I most humbly thank each of you.
We swallowed the moon
in dreams of sickness,
feeling the movement
as it slipped down lower
into the starving pit of emptiness
growing cold in the blue.
Sweat runs like rain on summer days
as the sun brands bodies
with the tattoo of red,
seeking relief we drifted to the edge
and held on tight
to stay above the fray.
Amongst the stars
scattered like sugar drops on black,
sprinkled to and for by the careless hand,
like unexpected words found
cold and sharp, ever bright
as it finds its mark in the darkness,
slipping away unsure,
we all fall down.
Beyond the blue
there lies a sleep fueled dream
moving into a carried thought
through the waking day,
gravity plucks and pulls
the certain aspects that shine
into the pocket of the memory they go,
like jingling coins
the sweetest chimes play
a melody of today.
Mad man moon is heard
laughing in its insanity,
words remembered from yesterday
sing to me of a lightness of heart
and I plunge like a starling through clouds
diving and swept on the winds,
carried on tattered wings
yet finding the joy in this small blessing,
in the lifting of the heart
I fly to the tune
of a lyrical neon moon.