The Train

The time flies on by and I am here, A tranquil, fragile soul that is contented, Mustering courage and faith to ride the train of success, I jump on board and I am there. The time flies on by and you are there, Fidgeting, mustering the depth of the soul, Turmoil, trauma, and beguile to ride the train of uncertainty, You leap on board and you are here. Two diverse souls on the train of consideration, The only two deliberating their future, We join hands and feel the warmth, Life is calm, life is love. Friends from a distant past with the future in our path! Love McKay

Vision of a Cluttered Mind

Her eyes peel back and there is darkness, A flutter and a float takes a different fullness, Dipping, draining, forming, the light penetrating, She is there, peering through the wellness. Slivers straiten through the shaft of light, Her body folds and convulses that night, Twisted, flipped, wrapped, the light shined, She is there, contorted, feeling the fright. Moist and sticky, it lies in her spit, It cannot touch her unbend able lip, Torn, shorn, the light is now born, She is there, veiled, bending with hip. The light is consumed……..there is darkness. McKay Wood

Dirt

Well OK here's the dirt! It's on the ground and it sometimes gets between your toes and for a fleeting moment you pick it out frantically cursing under your breath at that little worm that just dug its way into you heel. Yes, this is life and feet are the main objective: callused, dirty and full of stench. they hold you, support you, get you places, move you, jump you, kick you, and when you lay down to rest at night they are there with you resting at the same time. Oh the feet of life sometime fleeting and hampering because this is what you do. Are they connected to the innermost thought and divine accusations that come but as to no result of your feet? And when you sprain those poor little devils what sort of love do they get. And a swear or two to let them know that they are weak and impossible to please. Oh how I love me feet that connect my soul with the reality beneath it. So, love your feet and feel at ease because no matter how much you spit or cough your feet will love you all the day long. Love McKay

A Place Called Home

Wow the pleasures of a place called home. The smell of the trees, the smile of the bros, and the love of a family. Yes, the celebrated coming home has created euphoria in this tranquil state that I now reside. The great treasure of future seems to beacon me to come find her. I recapitulate through mine eyes the past that has been. A field of vibrant colors, foreign words floating through the air, tumultuous times in places of peril. Yes I will succeed and with her shall posse the inheritance of eternity. The prison of mediocrity cannot bind my bearing soul and lead me through gates of never-never land. I am here, I am real, I am me!

love McKay