Gluten Free Bisquick
Mix it all together!
Put it on the griddle.
Enjoy with coffee and you favorite breakfast guest!
dancing across the misty morning of solitude
silence is palpable
my tongue tastes twisted with alliterative alibis
alabaster aligns the concept of my creative endeavors
as i slip into a dreamlike maze of conciousness that
doesn’t quite seem to be my own.
i keep trying to remember something i cannot quite forget but have
absolutely not a clue why it teeters on my brain -
a slight image of a church or schoolhouse play
but i cannot quite latch the memory out of the abyss of thoughts and memories and dreams
that are webbed about my cranium.
i wake up and try to place it – what exactly just happened?
i read a chapter about suffering, suffering suffer -
how we entrap ourselves into this prison of pain
in an effort to, in order to -
to feel fortitude,
reawaken our spiritual path -
to enlighten our enlightenment.
i’ve always thought that when i’m in a tortured phase of life,
i feel more creative – writing and painting, even though sometimes
it comes out incredibly, awfully dark. but i want to remove it -
excavate it entirely from my body, separate it from my light.
i feel relief, satisfaction entirely, once I have written it out
even if then I rip apart the words and
burn the paper pieces into ash.
Well I ain’t often right but I’ve never been wrong
It seldom turns out the way it does in the song
Once in a while you get shown the light
In the strangest of places if you look at it right
Sunlight splatters, dawn with answer, darkness shrugs and bids the day goodbye.
Sometimes the light’s all shinin’ on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me, What a long strange trip it’s been.