I’ve never thought much about how I want others to remember me, but I think I would like it to be that I loved.
And loved and loved and loved.
That, or as the guy who brought the party blowers.
It seemed so big.
From my place under the covers uncertainty coursed through me.
I was owned by what ifs and buts.
But when the clothes finally came off, so sloughed off the worry.
And in the middle of that big stone quarry, the water was cold and I was free.
She told me the moon was balsamic, that it was time to let go. Funny how knowing is one thing and doing is another, how tightly our hearts can hold, how relaxing our grip is the most difficult part. I would rather wait until next week, but then again, the moon is balsamic.
All most people want is someone to remind them how beautiful they are. I forget sometimes that all of the awe held in my heart for you needs to be spoken. I forget that you don't know the millions of times you’ve danced through my mind for each time I've said the words.
I don't wish I could read minds, I think that would destroy me, but sometimes I wish you could read mine. When it's flush with love and filled with the towering wonder that I know you to be.
To be the Wind; for the Sail it is hard to imagine. A life as the free flowing force of nature he has spent years collecting. But what joy it would be to fly, to blow in every direction at once and fill every crevice you find. The Sail dreams of that some days, but especially on those when the sky is still and he lays slack.
This week I am mostly lost, held adrift by my responsibilities, pushed forward and pulled in. My bones are weary and I forget again what I am searching for, but that is the way of the some times. Just keep moving, then time must too.
Even the Sun has days where it rises slowly, spans where it buries its face in the back of the clouds. Knowing what it means to be a Sun, and too tired to shine like that today.
There is much of life in the slow moments, the waiting and the rain. Just outside the door as you pull all your breath in so you have something to hold. Full and steaming, onward you go.
—> click here to read more <—
She wondered if anything could be more cozy than her cup of tea.
--------
his prose, it made her cozy,
his poems, they filled her cup,
his words, they toasted toesies,
his meter warmed her up.
a cuddle-fest in written form,
lines laced with hugs and stew,
a feast to fill your every want,
to make you feel brand new.
she ate a verse for breakfast,
wrapped herself in stanza three,
then laid down for a needed nap,
while rhymes rocked her to sleep.
now she'll want no more for snuggles,
and she'll ask no more for tea,
for while those lift you for a bit,
these words, they keep their heat.
They had oysters for dinner.
--------
Have you smelt their salty swagger?
Have you reveled in their brine?
Have you slurped the ocean’s finest?
Have you freed them with your tine?
Have you zested them with lemon,
Oh so lightly squeezed on top?
Have you slathered on the mignonette,
Till they begged you, please, to stop?
In one fell swoop you clean the shell,
It ravishes your mind,
An explosive bit of chemistry,
For those west-coast-inclined.
On your tongue the taste, it only lasts,
Until you walk away,
But that memory will haunt your brain,
Until your dying day.
"We landed in Dublin after 13-hour flight and I was ready to punch the sun."
--------
Have you ever kicked a planet?
Have you ever punched the sun?
Have you ever slapped our cosmos?
What's the biggest hit you've done?
Have you seen the way the world warps,
on your third day wide awake?
Have you felt the way that time shifts,
as your eyes shudder and quake?
Have you climbed the highest mountain,
when you meant to take a nap?
Has your mind spun tales and fantasies,
just to fill the gaps?
I'll tell you now, that while it's wild,
the comedown is quite steep.
Instead, my friend, I'd recommend,
a hearty dose of sleep.
"Sympathies for my poor grandma who thought wasabi was guacamole"
--------
On chips? Oh, absolutely.
On tacos? Count her in.
And now it goes on sushi???
That's got to be a win.
She was a patent guac-a-holic,
Avocados were her jam,
Where most would focus on the chip,
Not so for this sweet gram.
So she piled high her rolls,
With the greenest goodest spread,
Just the sight caused her to drool,
Tasty dreams filled up her head.
And with a mighty chopstick heave,
She heft it to the sky,
And downed the whole caboodle,
In a single massive bite.
Alarms, they started sounding,
Her brain, it was on fire,
The tears, they were aflowin',
The heat levels were dire.
But after a few minutes,
When she'd gotten back her zen,
Through the pain, her nose, it had evolved,
And never stuffed again.
She logged her life in the spreadsheet-turned-database called Notion. Everyone had an entry, in their own little rows, in their own little columns. A special home for everything, in exactly the spot it belonged.
————
She always chose emoji,
for everyone she met,
Her especially ritualistic way,
To catch them in her net.
But this new boy, a maverick he,
Was proving quite bizarre,
Should she use a 🖊️ or ✏️,
Or an electrical 🎸?
She certainly wasn't panicking,
As her scrolling speed increased,
Could she use a 💀 or a goofy 👻?
No, he was not deceased...
"I mean, _what the hell is wrong with him_,
That he can't be defined???
For everybody else I know,
emoji worked just fine!"
She frantically kept searching,
For the whole entire night,
🖕this guy and his weird ass,
She threw birds to the sky.
Her 🐱s meowed around her,
They were worried for their mom,
Her ♥️ was skipping beats,
And she was cursed with sweaty palms.
"This will ruin all my systems!
This will sully all my rows!
It'll corrupt all of my files!
For some start-up nerd-ass bro!"
She knew right then the only plan,
That she could put in motion,
So she wiped him from her database,
"No boy is worth my Notion."
Sometimes you just stumble into your calling.
--------
My dream job was a doctor first,
Cause they can fix your pain,
And then I hoped to fire fight,
Drive up and save the day.
But now I found a new career,
I'm never going back,
Turns out I'll do most anything,
For bags of fruity snacks.
It was one little channel in our workplace chat where stories were shared based on weekly prompts. But sometimes one little channel is all you need to remember that in the end it's all about the people.
--------
She brought us all together
With a channel and a plan,
Simple questions spark our stories,
like only memories can.
It's TV shows and pizza,
It's books and smells and pets,
It's time travel through lifetimes,
It's our dreams and our regrets.
It's the things that make us human,
All the subtleties and quirks,
It's the parts that sum to people,
And the gears that make us work.
It's everything that matters,
From stardust we all came,
It's the tiniest of moments,
The times when we're the same.
Conversica connects us,
In one dimension, true,
But when we share our inner selves,
Well that, my friends, is glue.
It's not like all time post count was a competition... but if it was I would be winning.
--------
Christian was closing, not close, but less far,
And the future, he feared, was writ in the stars.
He knew he must pivot, creativity reins,
So he ramped up his thinking, overclocked his big brain.
At first he wrote poems one line at a time,
And he cheered as his metrics all started to climb,
But then he thought, "Huh, I could take this quite far..",
"I could transform each poem to a posting bazaar..."
And that was the moment his poems were last read,
As
he
posted
each
word
and
ripped
them
to
shreds.
What is something you learned about yourself during the pandemic?
"There is no separation between Alexia and Alexia's apartment. We are a single organism that lives in perfect harmony."
--------
My landlord says my arms aren't walls,
Well I think they are wrong,
I hug myself with every hall,
My embrace square and long.
I close my blinds and all is calm,
For little me inside,
Then blow hot air, a well known balm,
And smaller I is dried.
My lamps and eyes, they all can see,
My hands are wooden shelves.
I shan't pay rent despite their pleas,
Cause which soul pays themselves?
But I don't care what they all think,
Cause I know I am me,
An architectural lifeform,
Evolved organically.
The LA Angels got their first AI assistant up and running. Time to fill those stands.
--------
There were AI in the outfield,
There were robots in the stands,
A symphony of beeps and boops,
Was pouring from the band.
The engagement was incredible,
Response rate was insane,
An electric email legion,
With circuits for their brains.
They sold a million tickets,
Then they sold a billion more,
The stands were overflowing,
Fans were bursting from the doors.
But they kept on selling seats,
It was their one and only aim,
They were built to grow attendance,
To this wonderful ballgame.
So if you saw the angels,
And wondered how they'd heard,
Well first the AI sold out Earth,
Then sent mail heavenward.
—> click here to read more <—
You grabbed my hand on that New Years Eve as I was walking through the hill. Just briefly, in passing, like so much of life.
I was in my big coat, ballin’ out to whatever song, on the tallest mountain I had summited in awhile.
The world felt it, you could feel it, I was magnetic.