'To the Ending of the Storm'

When finally ceased

The howling of the winds

We heard birdsong.

Still waters

And clear blue skies.

Like a simile of a metaphor .

Peace in our time.

Declare not war,

Summoning storm clouds

But twitter and tweet in clear blue skies.

Be calm

And listen

To the ending of the storm.

And sing together .

This is our time:

"SAVIOURS"

Look.

In the distance of my eyes

Lies hope

Deep and real

Tears shed

For the dead

Revived in legends

As we stride the earth

Saving the living.

A child smiles

Through dripping eyes

And stained face.

The simple truth

Take my hand.

Take my faith.

Look life in the eye

And advance.

Undaunted

We progress.

Beyond their expectations.

Rebuilding truth

Returning hope.

The saviours of the nations.

Our words pour

over each other

like hot water

on loose leaf tea...

Like joyous ships

at night who've found

a lantern

lit

deep within

the darkened

arts of the sea

and the eye

of this storm

that brews

in me...

The steamy

engine room

demands its fuel!

by sonar, or

by tapping

into,

in archaic

morris code,

our very thoughts

above the radar

are overheard

and ohhh!...

...The sights and

whispers,

whatsoever

daylight denies

finds it's outlet beneath

our inky skies

and parted

smiles...

In the labor

of life, my Love

the shorthand

of Nature is

complimented

with a flush

on silken paper

rising

across the

horizon line

slips that perfect

nectarine...

...just out of reach

so much closer

to our breath,

and kisses

squeezing

the words

not yet

expressed...

We'll find them

in the throat of night,

and all paths left

unkempt, yet

thoroughly inviting

right on sight...

I beg you now to work

those chops,

and take me to the

swollen rock

where thoughts and actions

meet so sweetly...

Our words pour

over each other

like hot water

on loose leaf tea...

That is their lot, and link

in ever-loving life,

this road to take

a blink,

and up into a moonlit sky

we're drawn succinct

until the traces of our kind

arrives extinct upon the

ancient tablets

for the future orphans

of a world

that's lost it's wits.

©

3/23/21

Bunny Villaire

& Mavia Villaire

Stairs balk at talk -

they’ve seen too much -

life’s ups and downs,

babies’ frowns.

Knocked out teeth

beneath the heath.

Teenagers stealing

up the stairs

into their lairs,

they got their kicks

before parents caught

them in their tricks.

Dirty secrets

ground into stairs.

Teddy bears

falling down.

Scary clowns

waiting there,

stairs don’t care

they don’t talk,

holding up

all that weight,

tempting fate

of sorrows, cares,

sordid stares,

ragged socks

worn by jocks.

Stairs too slick

to talk at all.

But listen with care

you’ll hear the stair

whisper with flair

into cool night air

while broken teeth

lie battered there.

Life is not static.

I never was

anything once.

I moved, melted,

metamorphosed,

changed course.

Bring home broken heart

Fry up in pan

Fill up empty heart

With another man!

I breathe her scent

deep earthy smell

of sprinkling rain

ozone of her essence

the scent of

freshly washed laundry

exotic fibers of lust

erotic murmur of nature

a silent opaque mist

steaming on naked skin

scent of blue condensation

liquid sunshine of her soul

aphrodisiac aroma

of gentle rain

ozone of the gods

showers stirring

my aroused senses

dancing with me

in simplicity of time

wafting perfume

of last night’s ardor

incense of her soul.

“They only want us when they need us,” A chubby roll of Andrex huffed. “Look at them, grabbing at us, expecting us to always be there to wipe up their mess. Why don’t they wipe their own bottoms !”

The attractively-wrapped Angel Soft was fed up with his constant moaning, she had heard it all before.

“Andy, that’s what we’re here for. We are a staple product. Always here when needed. Can you imagine what they’d do without us?”

“That’s my point Angie ! ” The padded Andrex continued. “We’re valuable ! Yet we’re stocked right at the back of store. Never any special treatment, always cheap and available. But when there’s a crisis, a disaster, what do they want to stock up on huh? They come running to us.”

A young four-pack Nouvelle tissue wanted to join in and air her unsolicited opinions. Eager and brash ,she had a tendency to speak before thinking.

“I read somewhere there’s a psychology to it. They panic buy to manage their emotional state. Apparently they’re subconsciously taking back control in a world where they feel out of control.” Nouvelle stated.

“Popycock!” Andrex snapped back. “It’s just greed. Selfish greed. It’s the “me, me” world where all they think about is their own backside. We should go on strike. ”

Angel Soft laughed ” Strike? We’re toilet paper Andrex what do you propose we do?”

″ Just don’t show up. There will be a shortage and then what? It’ll make them think at least...make them show some appreciation.”

“That happened in Venezuela,” Nouvelle interjected. ” I’ve got Carrefour friends out there, it was chaos.”

“You see, ” Andrex continued ” They won’t know what they’ve got until we’re gone.”

Angel Soft contemplated the situation for a moment. She had heard things about this virus, she’d seen the look of fear in the shoppers’ eyes as they grabbed several packs at a time, she’d witnessed the panicked tussles in aisles. Then she thought of that little old lady who just managed to get the last roll on the shelf yesterday, shopping by herself, her small cart full of her basic necessities. She remembered the look of relief on the old lady’s face as she reached for last store-brand toilet roll and Angel Soft knew she’d always show up. She’d be there whether people appreciated her or not. She was a staple after all, a reliable, a trustworthy product in a world of uncertainty. She would wipe up their messes and their backsides , because they needed her.

She mentally rejected Andrex’s plan and straightened her pack. She was proud to be toilet paper and she would do exactly what was said on her packaging: deliver softness and strength at a price that won’t break the bank !

Toilet paper

invisible conga line

cavorting in

phantom shadows.

Ethereal wraith,

ghostly shades

enshrined in

flashbacks

of the past.

No choice

but to

yank up

your pants

and run!

I remember what it was like hating on myself; looking in a mirror and feeling sad, sick, disgusted, ashamed, and even angry. I remember what the rest of the world looked like and felt like, when I didn't love myself.

I mean it, 100%, when I tell you that I love myself for the pleasure of it.

Knowing I have freewill in the truest cosmic sense means I know I have a choice of which way to feel about myself, which way to think about myself, so it wasn't a very hard choice to make.

The choice was much easier than the learning how to unlearn all the self-loathing tricks and tid-bits I'd learned from my parents, siblings, teachers, peers, and perfect strangers.. nevermind the News, TV shows, Movies... etc.

I love myself for having taken on that journey.

I love myself for taking the time to think about my thoughts and feelings.

I love myself for learning about the Law of One.

I love myself for doodling out my own understanding of the Law of One; Source.

I love myself for loving the knowing of the connectivity of everything.

I love myself for exploring and practicing self-love and appreciation.

I love myself for appreciating that every "mistake/wrong" is a learning experience.

I love myself for appreciating the diversity of life, culture, and peoples.

I love myself for appreciating my journy so far.

I love myself for appreciating contrasting people and situations as opportunities to refine who I am and will be in the future.

I love myself for maintaining the desire to help others, even while I figure myself out.

I love myself especially when being me means being a contrasting opportunity to grow for someone else.

I love myself for continuing to work on my book, through every lost-data set-back.

I love myself for embracing the lone path when it presents itself as the progressive path.

I love myself for loving others even when they don't openly/notably love me back.

I love myself for dreaming big, beyond 'impossible', and believing in my inevitble.

I love myself for being able to dip into other perspectives without loosing mine.

I love myself for feeling compelled to share of myself.

I love myself for being willing to explore my own emotional spectrum.

I love myself for learning through every struggle, conflict, and doubt.

I love myself for evolving past the need to blame, shame, and play secret games.

I love myself for learning how to focus my thoughts/emotions.

I love myself for having room to grow, learn, and love some more.

I love myself for loving myself.

I am so abundant with love, my awesome is infinite.

another_proser