Talk show and quarry

The open broad t.v screen.
Eighties talk show controversial monotony.
Clown mouths and pseudo intellectual spectacles.
The channel doesn't change it's pushed in.

It got stuck in the panel desperate to escape.
A child had pressed it in one too many times.
Out the window where the eyes could get relief,
are distant pines partially submerged in hilltop mist...

all below a cloudy day.

Among those hills somewhere is an abandoned quarry.
The sky and the narrow valley repeat through the window daily.
The overcast days continue until they actually stain the mind.
The eyes wander back to the old box t.v, eighties talk show.

Civilized adjectives,
abandoned quarry.
Legendary gravestone skies.
That is a piece of me, mercy. That is a piece of my heart, mercy.

Have mercy on me please. Because it hurts and feels like it's all dying.

I beg to live, I beg to love. Let me live on.

A place to stand

Trust me this part of your life will be altered.
Uneasy conversations.
Obvious "correct" answers expected.
navigate love, loyalty, attraction, purpose.
 identity as you live all at once.

One thing you'll remember from today.
Grateful for what I have,
happy with where I am going.

A strong place to stand.
Don't pretend to know the future,
Don't become paralyzed by uncertainty.

I am a feeling
only a feeling
This season will influence thoughts for years.
Partially because of love.

 You're learning to see,
from a place of vulnerability.
Without losing your senses.
 A difficult balance.

 Many people spend decades trying to find it.
Observe your own heart
 with the same curiosity
 you observe the world with

 Future brings change,
 let it come because you've thought
 You've acted out your values
Sick of being swept along by a passing emotion.

I'll walk alongside you
On this path
In this forest of your life
 in these conversations

Kicka smiles thrice

 This morning I saw you stacking weights.

My sleepy eyes still opening.
I moved hesitantly toward you.
So much fear in me.

Noone has your face or your gestures.
Or whatever that is that I cannot pinpoint, radiating off you.
Certainly noone can bounce the way you do.

This morning my fear served me well.
For when your face turned and met mine,
I didn't see one smile.
I saw three.
Each one magnificent.

The first featured intimidating dimples and brow.
The second exposed your teeth and inner joy.
The third curled the lip and the vermilion border.

I felt pulled inward, as though every instinct leaned toward a kiss.
Your good-looking boyfriend was only metres away.
Even with him there, the pull remained.

I'd never seen three smiles in one sensual mouth.
This girl you are, blessing the morning with your three smiles in one.

Photos of dead trees

 I got the camera out
And I aimed it, what a way to get famous
Get my name out
but there was just brambles

The celebrity was so patient with me
As I fumbled my phone camera
Inverting the selfie
taking a photo of sticks

Of a dead tree
propped up against a mirror
The hardened fossil tongue of a dragon
And I never did get that photo
He had other stuff to do

Just what the identity needs
An excessively full agenda
A calender that fills the mansion wall
Celebrities like that are passing scenery
If you don't click, they just pass

The image as clear as it is
Catches dead sticks and old trees
Abandoned highways
fossilized dragon tongues
burnt out cars

Mirrors and defective cameras
screens hanging from lamposts
lopsidedly exposing parts we'd rather hide
disqualifying us from privilege

Pity eye and the backyards of our lives

 Pity eye in the back yard
Let me speak to you over the wall
This wall that divides us
it is too low
For I see what you do
and you see me

Pity eye your mother calls
forgets my name
she is is all chores
and I was just a game
From another life

Pity eye 
Just a distraction
From the work you do
At that outdoor kitchen
In the forty degree heat

Pity eye hanging the washing
watch it dry so quickly
The sun is proclaiming
It's own glory over these backyards
So exposed to each other

Eager to help

 Elon musk hired another driver. His name was Mister Mastrus.
He was not just a driver, he was an errands guy, he was paid well.
The land was flooded that day. The weather was crazy. The driver was unable to arrive at the school. He was panicking. He just couldn't get around the huge puddles in the middle of the road. Mastrus called Elon, but Elon was occupied.
Mastrus called the A team to see if they could a helicopter in. They confirmed it. Mastruz turned the car around, drove through some very deep puddles and made his way back to the mansion.
Before he got up the driveway he already heard the chopping of the rotoblades. Then the craft came into view.
As he drove up onto the estates open carpark he wtinessed the pilot set the "Bird" down.
The cabin doors opened and the children burst out, one taunting, one excitedly running and another shouting. They all sprinted into the mansion.
The pilot leaned down and over and pulled a thumbs up to Mastrus.
Mastrus wound down the slightly tinted glass and reciprocated.
"We should get a beer later." Mastruz said.
"Oh that sounds great." The pilot said.
But the two men would never have that beer. Different paygrades.

Elon musk arriving on the surface

 Other people's agendas mist up the glass
One trillion distractions each a tiny hook
Your face draws near to the great surface
It is smooth and truthful as you try to be

The slightly pale terrain comes into sight
There will be a miracle ahead, not mysterious one
One based on Thielian ethics
A break through to sudden epiphany

Engines will become even more efficient
The mutliplanet species goal more realistic
Dare to approach the wall accept you are ready
Your eyes focus in, yes Elon it's you in the mirror

(This is not prose to criticize or mock Elon Musk, he is a genius and a visionary.)