Look through the confusion

Look through the confusion
Therein lies a solution
Under layers of institution
Await personal revolution

In some contortion
Without coercion
Spirit feels no corruption
Call for celebration

burnt

Remove
the crust
a fancy way
to feed.

Or another
dish on one
side cleared
of  its
ashes?

Let me be

Let me be,
searching for the dreams,
no matter what it seems...
Free.

All then can see.
How it is to be me,
no matter what it seems,
let it be...

Free, free.

Roads for the merrily,
roads, a way to flee,
roads that hide the key
to us being free.

With no guarantees
feeling it,  instinctively.
Saerching for the possiblitites.
Let me be.

Free.

It's all up to me,
my way to perceive,
my way to be.
Let us be free.

Free.

Yellow Truck

Old square truck-
from the forties perhaps.
Wearing a high-gloss,
smiley-face yellow.  
Like an evening gown
in old Hollywood.
Flawlessness it wears
as its pearls.

Ghost of me

Me of today
is but a ghost
of the me
for tomorrow

as the ghost of me
today from before
lingers

Today the beating
of my heart
is but a memory
on the drum

If monsters are real
I know them intimately
But the angels
know me too

me today...

To many I have known,
a piece is carried in heart
or a memory that lives on

These memories have
no more reality than the day
of this living does.

If you knew me
during a year of strength
or a year of weakness,
or a year of transformation.
The me you knew, the me that lives on,
in pieces of minds and
across states
that matter not
to the me that you may know today

with the wounds healing from yesterday.