Traverse the Earth

Geocache #1
Horned Stump

Real Life

Sleep more appealing than the waking life
The waking life feels like a dream
A dream or nightmare
Not so sure which, but the feeling is there
Of illusion concocted by imagination

"You can't make this stuff up"
Rather, so surreal, that can't be real,
This real stuff must be made up.

But whose mind went here?
Maybe the grand architect constructed this story
How could this be?
Perhaps it's just someone's hallucination
In the end, was it all me?

That day when metal crushed in around my body
That day when shattered glass washed over me
That day
That boy
Killed me.

My being was shattered
My body was crushed
Broken.

I must reform
Take shape once again
Never the same.

Yellow Submarine

Mixed Media on Glass

They Ignite Late at Night

Keep talking
The things you remember
Keep walking
Thoughts, visions, emotions dismember
Be so busy you'll forget
Until it's late at night
There's no time to be upset
Toss left, turn right

The day a jumble,
and how time does fumble
when it's late at night
and the thoughts, visions, emotions ignite

See of Synchrony

A sea of synchronicity, all at once bombarding,
to see the undeniable pattern
can just be so daunting
A cascade of truths, once learned
each and every action connecting, once discerned,
us haunting.

Minds of Mimes

Monochrome musings bleed in
 to one another
The mimes of the media exacerbate the process authoritatively.

So many people saying so many things
 Meaning so little.

Minds of mimes probably
 not so silent
The babble they babble
 their thought?

Probably not.
If only the minds of these mimes would talk
 - could talk -
 from the heart