Vermillion Raindrops

The journey of rediscovery is a lightless corridor with tracks

Still fresh from the time before.

The scent still rings in the air, from the bird of paradise

You’re trying to re-acquaint yourself with.

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Fresh Starts:

I wanted a big funeral.

I wanted to be remembered by thousands.

I wanted a full plate of many talents.

I have done well to make that so,

Becoming something with the breadth of an ocean

With the depth of a river creek.

It’s not what I bargained two decades for.

The Bell and the Anvil

Intuition provides all the sense one could need to go somersaulting

Into a circumstance beyond your wildest dreams.

A sudden trip to Shakespeare’s Globe,

A drum circle on the bank of the Thames lit up by fire-spinners,

An explosive street fight between gangs of different sweatshirt colors.

And that’s just one night of being tapped into the flow, with as many more to come as I have beats in my heart.

Frequency

The gurgling murk is a manger obscene

Filled up with emotional cocktails’ canteen

Of anger and spite where confliction careens,

So we never ask why, or ‘what does it mean’?

And thus dash our hopes down of returning to clean.”