The Lion

How is the lion the king of the jungle?

He his vicious and feared

He’s a killer and a king,

But how?

A lion sleeps for 20 hours day,

Meaning he rules the jungle for only 4 hours a day,

His mentality is different.

He instills fear in others

He kills in his sleep

A lion’s presence alone changes a whole community in the jungle,

Elephants, gazelles, and cheetahs all know who the ruler is

Even humans understand how merciless a lion’s mentality is

In four hours a day the lion is physically running a jungle 

But for 24 hours a day the lion is psychologically ruling a jungle.

Virginia Zoo mourns death of African lion Emery after decline in health |  WAVY.com

Photo from wavy.com

Gobbler

I came home in the early evening to find my stomach hollow

So I put together a dirty dog and placed it in my gullet to swallow,

A hot dog topped with toppings such as cheese, chili, and corn

As I placed it in my mouth I discovered a miracle had been born,

I’m a master of creation

I have the hands of god,

I can change reality like claymation

My life up until now turned to be a facade,

I start to dig in

I’ve become a professional eater,

The food disappears fast

Like I’m accelerating in a two seater,

Seconds have passed

And I’m turning down the heat,

I ate it so fast

I was sure an eating record I had beat.

http://www.pinterest.com

Learning to Fly Again

You gave me a purpose

when I didn’t believe.

You pulled me from the dirt,

kissed me, and forgave me.

You taught me to feel

and you stuck around

when no one would.

I guess you’ve been here all along.

You pushed me off; I thought I died.

But I didn’t.

I learned to fly.

I was just afraid of heights.

The time came; I was ready.

I smiled crying,

sank to my knees,

and forgave the hands that hurt me.

“Leap For Joy” by Emily Olson

This love is like the moon

This Love is like the moon: the guiding light

The guiding light that is taking me home

The moon hangs on the flowers as we roam

The brilliant moon Illuminates the night

The moon watches new flowers bloom with delight

A tale as old as time, take me back to Rome

The guiding light that dims in the unknown

This love and the moon fell victim to fright

Going on, there are wounds that we must mend

Eventually, the story must end

An eclipse veiled the moon just as we feared

It’s hell on earth and the cities on fire

The serenity of the moon has tired

Just like the moon, this love has disappeared

image from weather.com

An Observation

From here I see my campus from an aerial view. If I turn around, I see the backs of the display books in the library. I feel as if I am spying on my own classes, looking through the glass as if admiring a fish tank. The empty space is filled with reflections of light as the mountains project onto the classroom air. The ceiling is as busy as the ground, as the light blends the air the way water blends light.

The soft, patchy hills feel uninviting up close as the pine needles keep me seated delicately. The towering trees are no mightier than grass in the valley, as the vertical space of campus is dominated by mountains, surrounded by empty air.

The birds aren’t tied to the ground. The space is theirs, and they are free to exist on a higher plane. They have their own conversations up here. They chatter amongst each other as I do with my friends in the confines of the trees. 

For this moment, I am with them. I exist on the higher plane, resisting the hour where I will return to my path on the game board of campus. The ground is vast, and I never considered my ability to break my trails. I’ve existed on this campus for years, and I’ve traced the same route each day, etching my footprints into the ground. I’ve left spaces abandoned and ignored. There are pockets in the trees where I’ve never set foot. The heart of campus is in the green leaves, though I experience life on the white concrete, referencing the trees as accessories.

From afar, these trees are the campus. Each little patch on the mountain is a three dimensional plant that stands alone. The buildings are silent amongst the loud winds that rush through the branches, and are invisible behind the deep, warm tones of nature. Before returning to my concrete trail, I will keep in mind where the life of campus resides. My existence circles the trees, and my classroom is not as tall as I once believed.

Image Credit: Home Stratosphere

The inspiration

Anything is possible

Your ideas scream

You hear screams of passion

Screams of possibility

Screams of the hope you can bring

Screams of the sorrow you lead

Screams of the love you can spread 

Screams of the hatred you can unleash

You hear as you release the passion and possibility

The hope and sorrow

The love and hatred 

You hear as these overwhelm your mind 

Then, you stop hearing and start listening

You start to go

With no thought or care

The pen moves by itself

The music plays itself

Everything becomes thoughtless

Moving with ease

capstone pt. 12

That all changed when she brought me to the ocean

In those rich minutes the light was warm gold,

viscous, she let it in

floating in the sodium and the waves.

Rocking back and forth

I fought the ocean,

that colossal blue,

as it pulled the warmth from my heavy limbs,

Suspended four inches from the plexiglass surface,

blowing fat bubbles that distorted your reflection.

Time changed that though,

and warm gold became cool to the touch

sad skin

No matter how warm

Rubs against mine

Like pruned fingers

on paper

Ode to Trees

Watching the world as time flies

From beginning to end

Standing strong in tough times

From cold winters to hot summers

Watching us grow old. 

Swaying in the wind

Providing cover in the rain

And shade in the sun

Providing a place to rest

A place to ease the pain

We don’t appreciate it

How lucky we are

They gave life to us all

The sweetness we cut down with greed

One by one they fall

As will we

Image From Arbor Day Blog

capstone pt.7

This trip turned all that thought inward at times

It forced me to really think about what i was feeling,

and to sit inside my heart

so that my hard wired head could stop

and i became content to be in my own space

content to sit within myself as I moved. 

content to just watch as the world changed around me

merely maneuvering my truck from idea to idea

it forced me to process things by writing them

but it also gave me the space to think things through in conversations on the phone

but that depended entirely on cell service 

the oaks

wrinkles

white walls

metallic beige

flying roaring

cutting

white walls

warm animals 

in half motion

motioning

in motion

you latch on to these moments, these images, as they race in your head, as they take tight turns, as a force like gravity pulls and pulls you away. you find yourself empty save the quiet conversations and the warm silence. the moments that make you you. but how ‘bout I move them? 

how ‘bout i reorganize the pantry

pull the back towards the front

pour it all out

how ‘bout when you feel those candlewarm memories

in your stainless vaccum

you feel them.

you feel the road, the car

the pull

you feel the moment, the memory

fading

into the fog

Nine Ways of Looking at the Moon

I

The sky was set 

The moon the captain of the army in the still night’s sky

II

Dazed I look up 

The moon, full, like a handle on the door to heaven

III

Scene three:

The moon in its commanding role 

Casts a spell on the audience 

The audience that is us

The spell that is an enigma

IV

A woman and the moon are one 

A woman and a man are two

A woman and a man and a moon are a romance

V

I prefer the moon

The serenity 

The beautiful chasm that allures

That is the moon

The sun is not the moon

I prefer the moon

VI

The walking dream has left me awoken 

Life and light has left me

Love has left me

A lonely spirit searching

A lonely spirit searched 

And found you 

The moon

VII

The rhythm of the heartbeat of the night pulses

The moon hangs on Orion’s belt protecting him

Protecting us

I know of a time

A secret time

That time is now

VIII

Shoot for the moon

And if you miss you’ll land in the stars

The woman who flew to the moon

IX

The captain commands his army

The flames of the day burn

A newly painted sky dries

I see a blackbird fly by

As the moon says goodbye

Image From Nasa