Sunday, November 28, 2010


Hello little one.

Im sorry I've been away so long.  Can I come hide with you?  Can we lay between the stems and stalks?  Never seen, little friend, always one to miss.  Never seen, little friend, come, can we talk?  Maybe just a whisper, maybe just a kiss?  Daily sitting under Flower, its the white one, the emerald tower.  Can I sit awhile?  Watch the sun go down?  When Sun falls below the ground, Mo will hold us, Mo will show us.  Dark blakets, so scure.  Another night to endure.

Come little friend, hide me in a pettel.  Come little friend, show me the way.  Hide together, little feather, another passing day.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

The Bent Mirror

I had this thought that just rings in my ears.  I'm pathologicially unimpressed with myself and have been for years.  Better to hide, better to fade, better lurk, better to stay inside.  Is there something wrong with me?  When I look at myself, with what I see?  Everyone seems so ready to say, the golden apple is theirs, at the end of the day.  Kallisti I see, but will it ever be me?

Goodbyes are hard to raise.  Lost in my heart, lost in my maze.  Just a bother, just a fuss.  A perfect silence I would muss.

Can you pound a mirror back true?  Will it ever show the real you?  Will it just crack and shatter?  Does it even matter...

The pyous say humility is a glory.  Better to be the quiet and rightous story.  But I cant believe it, its just a lie.  It all is, but this sickness just wont die...

Friday, September 17, 2010

Something of Nothing

Lately I just dont feel like I have much to say, these whispered thoughts this long drowsy day.  Things just go, moving fast, moving slow.  Everynights wish becomes nothing but a show.  So many wishes, so many plans, its like its someone else I have in my hands.  Another string, glowing life.  Anothers desire, anothers sharp knife.

This side and that side.  What I tell myself, what I lied.

Crazy rantings in rymes, simple flashes of time.  Snapshots of a time so slow.  Passing by like melting snow.  Yet somehow I look and I see, I think to my self, “This isnt me...“

Lately its memories of days long past, the ones that I thought would last and last.  Shocking, sometimes, to see how far they have wondered.  I cant help but smile at so much squandered.

I was writting my book, I gave and never took.  My wishes were dreams, to be held and forgotten.  I felt like they wernt for me, like I was adrift at sea. 

Suddenly I wake and find, all I wished for was always mine.  Waiting just behind the vale, right ourside my secluded dale.  Tapping on my shoulder, saying, “You are worthy“.  Cutting throuht this hearts long apathy.

So odd, that now as ever, I still think like I‘m used to thinking.  Like my mind is lost and my boat is sinking.  But thats all just ghost of misty times.  Of shadowed summers, of unspoken rymes.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Ash Wind

So burned out, just a shell of smoke and hell.

So tired... like a pound of iron cold on each breath.

I really need a change, I really need to stop settling for the ash on the wind.

Settling for smoke and mirrors, scared of dreams and fears.

Self destructive cures, when theres nothing but the button.

Reset the great machine, the slaver, the cruel and mean.

Days of daze and daze of days.

Through it out the ashen wind.

Drive out colors, smear your dirt.

Cover light, fill heart with hurt.

If I just hid my face away, stayed secluded, will decay.

Would it notice, that great machine, would my mind finally wash clean?

Thursday, August 12, 2010


An empty chair, an empty place in my heart.  A bitterness turned just slightly tart.

Thank you... Thank you...

You really have disappeared.

My smile aglow in the disconnected thread that is today.  Your ghost is gone and vanished; lost in times sweet delay.  This curve through space is broken and faded.  Not so hurt, not so jaded.

Thank you...  Thank you...

Find elsewhere to drive your spear.

How subtle is the washing of the sands of time.  How quietly out of heart and out of mind.

Thank you... Thank you...

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Waking Unreality

Red stripes and little red pipes.  Useless and unneeded are not clueless but unheeded.  We have problems with problems in this crazy Kmart kingdom.  Some we take to far, others we hold like our wishing star.  Ballanced so well we fall, fly straight up and stall.  Do we sink into a stupor without time?  Will we wake at the lights sweet chime?  So much it asks, two laughing masks.  Now and now and how and how.  The truth will shine, but is it mine?  So easy it is to look, turn the page; open the book.  All is seen there within, be it truth or fantasy's kin.  But how lost we are, eyes upthrust to golden wishing star.  Tripping over unexpected feet, shocked to find our own red meat.  How can we not but stop and stare, fleeting feeling if running dare.  Waking unreality, nothing but a fallacy.  Drift and dream, castles and cream.  Move and dance, dunes and romance.  I dont see this line, that holds your world from mine.  But we all often hold back, doors tight without slack.  Easy way out, lose scream and shout.  Quick rush, little blush.  Win, and already thinking of what's been.  Waking unreality, such a little fallacy.  Life is such a little crack, starts and then can't hold back.  Thinking of the cradle, a place calm and stable.  A flowers day dream of a seed, from the ground its never freed.  The last creed that we have left, from sunny farm to darkest cleft.   Grow and thrive, be alive.  But how blind we are, nearsighted or far.  We need the now or need the then, but can we find our ballance again?

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Green Dreams

Waking driftings, nothing holding me down. Just a blur, just a passing frown. Green dreams of my children’s eyes. An imagine that makes me want to drop to my knees. Some thoughts are so big you cant think them. Some dreams are so crisp overcast glow, then burn your eyes. Then shine like ravens in battlefield skies. Dead ends are so mystifying to us, aren’t they? We always love to see that cliff or wall. But sometimes all I want to see is what lies behind it. What is it in me that drives such flagellation of other lives when all I have is now. Maybe it is in such that I allow myself to see what I hid from myself in my heart.

Pan en, then… Is that enough? Do we need more? Pan en pain, pan en tears, pan en silver light’s caresses. Theos en pan.

How can I turn wrong in such purity? Then why still fear my maturity? I guess that’s the lesson in these green dreams. Fear is not in my heart. The skies are overcast but wrap around us like angels wings. How can any of this be real when it feels so easy, so right. Just like in dreams when nothing seems to connect, and no one seems to notice, least of all the dreamer. What is the lesson if not that its very disconnected flow is a sacred Chao. What level do we perceive from? The Chao is a unique snowflake in Chaos blizzards dance. And oh how it dances and flows to its own beautiful music. Some can see past Chao and its twins, with grids of majesty and tearful power. Sometimes I can see the fragments spinning in my life and just accept them as they are. They still glint from the light source, for all fragments shine. Lost nows. It is these that we hold on to so tightly that we cut ourselves. Nows that can never be lost but in our hearts. When we despair of the break from now, and the pattern it follows. Will its edges be jagged or smooth? Will they be sharp or course? Gentle or hard?

But what, then, is this but window dressing? Would we scoff at The Three Graces if placed in the window of a Burger King? Would Monet’s fire be any less if placed in a rough hewn frame? Why do we dance so in the frames of our lives… All still shines from the soft sweet light at its center…

All I wonder about now… am I falling into it, or away from it? Do fragments spin away? Or past?

Time will tell… Time will tell.

Saturday, April 3, 2010


What is it about sharing experiences that make us so keen on being able to retell a tale that we lose ourselves out of the moment.  Sometimes I am places that are so perfect I try to hide behind my camera.  Sometimes I'm glad when I don't have one.

I found a place of such overwhelming beauty that all I could think was how to capture it.  What a relief when I realized I couldn't, and that all I was left with was living it.  To be forced to be current.

And such wonders it was, rolls of whispy clouds folding back on themselves, glowing gold and silver.  A blue dome so delicate it could break at any puff of breeze into green or pink.  Tall grass waving softly over smears of colored flowers.

Look at me, doing it again..  Trying to share it all, but what a poor stand in..  These black and white crudeities, meaningless meanings enclosed in something so meaningful.  What an odd thing is our song, only in that we all sing to eachother.

Sunday, March 28, 2010


Claid my skin in silver, so that I can shine.

The world reflects off me, highlighting what is mine.

What is lost to some is home to others.  How can anywhere truely be lost?  It can only be unfound.

The ground breaths under my feet, and the sky sings.

The ground breaths under my soul, and the angels spread their wings.

The ground breaths under my eyes, in long happy sighs.

The ground breaths under my heart, and it opens up my eyes.

The green willows heart is open,

A butterfly glides out from within.

Standing watch over its twin,

In the mirror it knows nothing of sin.

Thursday, March 18, 2010


We are interrupting the normally scheduled blog to bring you this important message:  to the normal author of this blog:  you are very much loved.


Your Kate

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Transportation Subject to Approval

The man said "Be sure to hold your trousers up, because I'm going to be pulling." I nearly died laughing, but it was serious time. You dont laugh in serious time, everyones watching, just waiting to stamp you "rejected, return to sender". Everyone has their game face on, run along, little cow. Walk here, face that way, no shoes, one tray per array.
I have well over 5 times more liquid blood hidden away then they trust the little cows with in bottles and cans. What happens when the Buddhist join the pain game, and set themsleves to shinning in fire and light? How much liquid can the stomach hold? Its a silly place, serious time... Its like the varnish washes thin, and the insanity shows through just where they squeeze the hardest.
When will angels just look after themselves? When will we come to them with reverence?
But its always in nature of some little cows to feel importaint. With their shoots and routes, rules and mules. Come little cow, be not afraid. Its just the laughter house, we sware.
Fate rules the skies, and angels rule over fate. Yet little cows trust everywhere else.

Monday, March 15, 2010

Songs of Sand.

Airports, so much in such a small space. I could sit here and talk about all the things we do here, busy, busy, busy... but the real grace of airports is memories. The coming and going, the hello and goodbye. Of tears there are many, of joy and sorrow, but always that of the missing. Its a place where the apparent order grinds so thin, you can almost feel the chaos raging over from the other side. Such a squished dimension is the fourth, ever pushing from all sides. Like a horde on the dancefloor, it writhes to its own dark cadence. Never happy with where its at, always trying to live on elsewhere down its little string. Humming, thrumming, simply buzzing; like a bumblebee content to share her secret flower patch. So like us in that, time doesn't wish to die.
Its screams echo on; waves building in harmonic phases until it becomes a wave so strong they sweep us away. And just when you cant take anymore... When you feel crushing, eclipsing vibration tearing now apart, phases shift and slip. One song crashes against another, valleys slam peaks into dust. Dunes roll over green pastures, and the four winds swirl in madness. The vale slams shut again... Snap back to reailty... Trapped into gravity...
Im sitting here and its far to quiet. Only cold metal lights shine to brightly. Their humming tubes sing songs so somber, they only serves to underline whats hidden away. I feel so heavy, fighting through this slugish air. I want to whisper to the walls... "Wait for me. I'll be right back. We still sing for you. Wait for me."

Thursday, March 11, 2010

A Night at the Opera

"Apart from this beggar here,
There's no one like you my dear,
Tasting my lips,
No one but you and him"
Forever and ever we both will be one.
The maiden, the fair and the young fell in love.

Will you still wait for me?
Will you still cry for me?
Come and take my hand.
Will you still wait for me?
Will you still cry for me?
Come and take my hand.

Wherever I'll go you'll be with me,
my first though and my last.
Though we'll depart in bitterness,
one day you'll understand.
Carry on, beloved maiden, mine.

Yesterday's memories, and melodies,
are gone with the wind so sad.
Where everything's pale,
there is no sign of you, I'm alone.
How I wish... you should be here.
I'm alone...
Telling me it's alright.
Come rest your head.
Come rest your head.
Come rest your head.
Come rest your head.
I'm alone and sadness reigns in my heart.
As long as we live, it won't go away.
We are one, but torn apart.

Sadly sings destiny...
Sadly sings destiny...

Will you still wait for me?
Will you still cry for me?
Come and take my hand.
Will you still wait for me?
Will you still cry for me?
Come and take my hand.

Harvest of Sorrow,
your seed is grown.

A lesson to learn...
Don't be shy just blame me.
Well, there is no need to feel ashamed,
Remember the oath,
remember the oath.

Under the ice you will believe.
Under the ice you will be free.
Released from rotten thoughts.
No more pain, and no more gods...

Please understand,
it's not in our hands.
Barren the land,
it's all dead and gone.

Khef runs dry...
Khef burns away in flames.
Khef, frozen and still.