desert
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A Fata Morgana mirage loomed hazily, yet intensely off in the distance
On a scale of untold magnitude with respect to packing heat
So she felt it best to take the path of least resistance
I’m in the vast desert,
calling for help every chance I get,
but nobody can hear you when you’re in the desert.
I’m nearly dying from the heat,
dehydrated,
Walking in the desert is an act of complete awarenesss,
You are a visitor
You must tread lightly
The desert demands respect, you hapazardly and carelessly step, you will be pricked, you will be stung
Baking, broiling, blindingly bright, blistering sun,The kabob that is my body searing, skeweredOver scorching, sweltering, sizzling sand.Deceptively blue skies devoid of any deliverance,
I am a creature of the desert
I can be no other, it is my home, I am its son
Though the mountains call, and I go to them, I do not stay
But having drunk deep of shade and pine and mushroom loam
You arrive in the wooden town by one of the only roads
It must have just been raining outside because you can hear the toads
But you’ve been driving for days in the state and haven’t seen a cloud
No sleep.
No water.
Dry mouth seems to be the onluy taste available.
No reach or want for what is close.
Only hardships are available.
Thee isn't much around in this deserted place we call home.
I am in love with the rain.
The way it cleanses my heart,
and soaks up my pain.
The way it relieves me from the draining sunlight
that had burned up all my emotions and left me a barren wasteland.
I look up to see nothing
but a blue canvas, dangling,
threatening to collapse over me.
Existence stalks me
as a gust of nothingness
reminds me of my
I am whole whithin
The hot dusty air,
Rocks rising left and right,
Everything is like fire,
Reds and oranges surround me,
Fueling my energy,
a sky of blackbirds and blue jays
does never cross my mind
as much as deserts and cacti
all be in short supply.
and though i of the sea proclaim
the safety of my heart
dear mountain standard time
the desert is in itself
an oasis, an escape
from the monotony
of trees and grass
that plague the forest valley
they are all i have ever
known, truly
I pitched a tent at Kayoke
Among desert sands around
Grown tired of reg’lar folk
To wilderness I am bound
I sang a song so merry
Tonopah is where I like to be,
Tonopah is full of rich history.
Tonopah is a place for exploration,
Tonopah is my favorite destination.
Tonopah is a place everyone should roam,
Who are you?
I can't see you
But I know you're there
Will you stay with me?
We can conquer the desert
You and me
So what do you say?
Run away with me?
Here is the trail; right over the hill
Runs that my soul sang out along;
You can see my secret creek in the ravine still,
with my makeshift bridges choked in winter’s grip.
No illuminating grass,
No water for miles,
The Sun beat down agressively,
I shielded my eyes,
Lost,
The only word to describe me,
Where am I?
Where should I be?
to the wild spirit woman of the carved and sacred desert,
move freely in your primal body glistening with moonrise
dance to the current of the boiling river as the dam collapses
You are a child's entertainment.
You are my entertainment.
They scoff at your gaudy colours,
They play you off as too innocent
for their rebellious excursions.
But I am here
waiting with you
If I were on a desert island
I would probably already have everything I needed because technically
“Desert” and
“Desserted” are two separate thing entirely
It started with a light
a single life.
the light under the door
coming through the cracks in the windows
cracks under the lids
of my eyes
waking slowly
in your arms.
in the reds and blues there be a youth,
looking toward mountain and sky,
finding the signal there:
the buzz of joshua.
the whisper of the desert pine.
There's a place where the middle meets the east.
Some of it is made of sand,
it's bland and you could get lost -
in the smoke, the ashes, and in the
tears of children and parents
Are we not all connected?
What a lonely world would we
be if we were not all affected
by each other.
The page screams out
A faintly blinking blank screen in front
Of the pale face of the writer.
She stares with list
Disappointment at her failure to subsist on the great words of those
He thought he shared the universe with all;Heard many voices in response remandAn inundation—words unlike his call,From the desert-bare cliff across the sand.Some morning from the parched and thirsty ground
it started with a wave
no
a tsunami.
it started with a tsunami
bringing chaos to the order
crushing the structure
flooding normal
until i was drowning in an endless ocean
Gently place your foot upon the road, the simple start of every journey.
Little do you know, that this road is me,
Theres an artist behind this Idiot
Theres an Ocean beneath this pool and it's full of sharks
I present a calm surface because no one can fathom the depth
and once they stick a toe in and realize there is no bottom
When the ocean is far awayand the wind is full of sand instead of salt,I dive back into the green pools offorgotten peace in your eyes.I swim through lakes of cheap vodkaand expensive memories.
I prize my gift from the sun,
the smooth ebony blanket
that trails in my path.
It bears the token of my progress,
like a toll booth of past endowments,
always full of unanswered prayer.
I’m tired,
So tired.
Someone please let me sleep.
I’ve been wandering for so long,
Traveling through this vast desert.
There’s nothing in sight
No oasis like they claim,
Ginger and Persimmons
the scent of desert far
mixed with spice and orient
of mystery
and of death
the wisdom
of a dying man
held beneath the desert sky
whispers of an ancient time
Petrified air sits frozen in the sweltering, deserted city of sand.
Its horizon the same in all directions, rural settings look crowded to this muted kingdom.
Raw land, ancient,
sloping and wild, untouched,
orange in the dying light,
just rocks and sand.
Like the finger paintings of God,
an animal song frozen into sand,
Brown, bronze, and copper sprawl on the horizon
The faded canvas rough and dry
The sky flares into a symphony of shimmering colors
Conducted by the two-faced sun
Feel the touch of the desert sun
Warming along our flesh
Egyptian cotton touching me
the passion grows internally
a kiss egniting the flames
breathless like a drowning child
Blinded by red and gold
We travel across the ancient land
along emptiness and desert sand
Searching for riches and for gold
From stories our ancestors told
Travelers since the day of birth
in search for gems of the earth
The crags and cliffs stretch down into
the brown of the landscape.
Everything is dead:
the trees, the animals, the earth...
all varying shades of abandonment.
Light bends and breaks in submission
A mirage upon the endless sands
The heat whispering for you to sleep
Your body slows to the movement of the timid wind
The will to survive has vanished like the waters
They tried to teach poetry as a class in fifth grade,
Even the teacher opposed to ‘teaching’ poetry,
Poetry is not taught, it is felt in your heart and soul,
It is a way of expressing yourself like nothing and no one else,
To travel alone,
Through a lonely desert.
Everywhere you look,
Dunes of sand.
No one to share your company,
No one to stand by your side.
Tis a lonely world, this world can be.
Desolation is a dusty road
How soothing is a leader’s gentle sigh
In DC, crowds buzzing and humming with anticipation.
Will 1963 change the course of the world?
He tells us Dreams grew in the cotton fields
A Saguaro was killed in the street today,
I wept as each car ran it over
Poor thing it didn’t get to see a hundred
A flower never bloomed on its green spiked scalp.
Tracing envious combinations
up dripping castles,
magnified to
become the object
of shifting poles.
Wind grazing lazy
whitecaps among
the visions,
memories, smooth
deep red river stones.
