Remember once when I felt like a hermit in the middle of NYC. Sometimes I feel the same again.
but idk. sometimes it changes. to a little bird flying in the sky some days.
or maybe a parrot being taught words to say over and over. thats it. Probably a parrot.
guys think of it. what if.. wooaaa
but sometimes a lil panda bear just holding on for dear life. all fluffy and puffy and just holdin'
mostly I live a parrot and panda life.
Thursday, August 18, 2016
Saturday, August 13, 2016
I named it Untitled
A lawnmower and stripes. A field and a girl. A misunderstanding and too many emotions.
When she got angry all she could do was walk. I could probably walk to the moon and back.
Today the woods would be the moon. Picked the blasted rocks and threw them. And any logs her weakling self could carry. Wow I'm strong. I can throw a whole foot or two. Two goats eating by the river. Blast these wretched goats! Why are you everywhere. But really they're not. You just happened upon them today. I could walk a thousand fields by now. Anything to cool this off. Field and hill. Field and hill. Field and hill. Horses and horse pies. and wheat fields almost waist high. Walk it off. Walk it off.
The corner. The corner of it all. the property line that ends the land of where home has always lain.
Home. My familiar places are all the same. Except all the changes.
The corner fence post is my chair for looking at life. I don't know what to think or say or do.
She doesn't know how much time goes by. Half hour? Hour? The sun moves down.
I need to see the colours of the sun leaving today. Will you bring all your colours across the sky.
This corner is no place to watch the painting. Thats all I need to see right now.
Jump the fence and walk the drive. Cross the property you know too well and find one you don't.
Tractors and trucks been here so long.What have they done to these forests. What are they thinking. In the distance a four-wheeler, tractor, and voices make noise. They're here. I can't see them. If they find me will they be friendly or angry. They'll ask me why I'm here and I'll tell them I came to find the sun. Its glowing and blinding now. Its about to settle down. I walked through field and hill. Field and hill again. and again. Behind the woods I found a farm. I'm going find them. Explore the farm and all those silos. Farm folk are always nice. The only thing stopping me called my imagination. Or maybe my logic. What if a boa constrictor comes and bites your toe, you faint and die. Nobody knew you were here. You are forever missing. and nobody ever knows what happened to you. MIA they forever say. MIA from mowing the lawn. Fine. Good logic you are. Keeping me in line huh. The sun is on her way down. Forget finding the farm and remember the sun. Climb the tallest hill and sit. I sit. I'm here on dirt covered hills. Fields of beans or something growing in sections and the rest is knocked down woods. The scene is a brown hill. Below it all around is circled in trees. Behind is a tractor and a cultivator. To the right the sun is dropping fast. It didn't bring colours. Just its glowing circle dropping into the forests. To the left. The sun makes the trees glow in rich deep greens. Its prettier than the sunset today. The sun leaves. A tiny cloud sparks pink. I see the first star. The moon came out of nowhere and the sky is turning gold. The hill is silent. I am silent. I usually might say something to the trees or myself. or sing or think. Now I don't. I can't. The silence is beauty. Actually I hear the highway and the voices still from unknown. And the tractor that keeps going. Its all a part of it. I sit. On the right the trees are now silhouetted black. The left still glows deep green. If my life was a colour I hope it would look like that. I count 7 stars now. The sky is turning dark blue and the black is coming on my right. I see a farm from here. Is there anyone there sitting on their hill watching the sun too? Sometimes I wish for someone to be here too. People should see beauty together. And remember it. Soak it up. I think watching sunsets or glowing green forests is kind of like medicine to our human emotions. So then I'm half glad someones not here. You didn't keep your cool while walking it off. You throw rocks and sticks and why should that help? Maybe it should. mmaybe it does. Who knows. idk why our brains even think to do that when you're mad. Not everyone does. Why should I? blehhp. well. you made it to a brown hill surrounded by trees and a yellow covered sky. The beauty it shows you wins over the emotions and you sit and be calmed. The stars are peeping out. and its darkened everywhere. I just want life to be this beauty in all its moments. How did ugly lame pointless arguments and misunderstandings start becoming more often than this? And why isn't the whole world stopping to see the trees glow and turn into silhouettes. I'm not leaving. I'm never leaving this place. I'll make this moment the rest of my life. Then my life will be nothing but beautiful this. Alright. I stand up and turn to walk home. I have to cover my whole way back and it'll be black by the time I'm back (yes.yes I know. I'm a cute poet) Everything is black and lit by a half moon. Across the bean field I see a white tarp lain over it. I don't remember that. Of course not you blonde. Its the fog of the night. Sneakin' up on them plants. I could scare myself now if I let myself. The black and the white fog creepin' and the light from the moon. But its too pretty to be scary. Its the beauty of the night. Its the beauty we always miss cause we're focused on the unimportant matters in life. I turn around and the tractor is now silhouetted at the top of the hill with one star above it. One black tractor and a white star.
I think about this year. Its half over. I'm not ready for that.
I thought about someone who was good by stopping someone from expecting a bad year.
"Don't say that. Its going to be a nice year" Has it been a nice year Renita? I go through each month. Jan..Feb..March.. I go through what happened in each month. April, May.. June.. I love it all.
I hate some of it. I love most of it. It's beautiful. It teaches me. It's life. Its mistakes. Its blows. Its warmth. Its comfort. Its time.. July. August..anyway. I remembered the year. The good, bad and beauty and ugly and best and worst and greatest and
It's all crazy, It's all false, It's all a dream, It's alright,
Its what I say to myself and life.
alrighhh alrighh I think I'm done. Sometimes my brain just narrates my life on accident.
and don't read this, its all just nonsense probably. idknowwhat I write.
But once I turned around and counted 27 stars. Walked ten feet.
And then thought there was no way that was only 27. Recount and 27...34..37.... I found the big dipper.. and also I found my star...40..42.
A walk home with the white fence and the moon and its shadows.
When she got angry all she could do was walk. I could probably walk to the moon and back.
Today the woods would be the moon. Picked the blasted rocks and threw them. And any logs her weakling self could carry. Wow I'm strong. I can throw a whole foot or two. Two goats eating by the river. Blast these wretched goats! Why are you everywhere. But really they're not. You just happened upon them today. I could walk a thousand fields by now. Anything to cool this off. Field and hill. Field and hill. Field and hill. Horses and horse pies. and wheat fields almost waist high. Walk it off. Walk it off.
The corner. The corner of it all. the property line that ends the land of where home has always lain.
Home. My familiar places are all the same. Except all the changes.
The corner fence post is my chair for looking at life. I don't know what to think or say or do.
She doesn't know how much time goes by. Half hour? Hour? The sun moves down.
I need to see the colours of the sun leaving today. Will you bring all your colours across the sky.
This corner is no place to watch the painting. Thats all I need to see right now.
Jump the fence and walk the drive. Cross the property you know too well and find one you don't.
Tractors and trucks been here so long.What have they done to these forests. What are they thinking. In the distance a four-wheeler, tractor, and voices make noise. They're here. I can't see them. If they find me will they be friendly or angry. They'll ask me why I'm here and I'll tell them I came to find the sun. Its glowing and blinding now. Its about to settle down. I walked through field and hill. Field and hill again. and again. Behind the woods I found a farm. I'm going find them. Explore the farm and all those silos. Farm folk are always nice. The only thing stopping me called my imagination. Or maybe my logic. What if a boa constrictor comes and bites your toe, you faint and die. Nobody knew you were here. You are forever missing. and nobody ever knows what happened to you. MIA they forever say. MIA from mowing the lawn. Fine. Good logic you are. Keeping me in line huh. The sun is on her way down. Forget finding the farm and remember the sun. Climb the tallest hill and sit. I sit. I'm here on dirt covered hills. Fields of beans or something growing in sections and the rest is knocked down woods. The scene is a brown hill. Below it all around is circled in trees. Behind is a tractor and a cultivator. To the right the sun is dropping fast. It didn't bring colours. Just its glowing circle dropping into the forests. To the left. The sun makes the trees glow in rich deep greens. Its prettier than the sunset today. The sun leaves. A tiny cloud sparks pink. I see the first star. The moon came out of nowhere and the sky is turning gold. The hill is silent. I am silent. I usually might say something to the trees or myself. or sing or think. Now I don't. I can't. The silence is beauty. Actually I hear the highway and the voices still from unknown. And the tractor that keeps going. Its all a part of it. I sit. On the right the trees are now silhouetted black. The left still glows deep green. If my life was a colour I hope it would look like that. I count 7 stars now. The sky is turning dark blue and the black is coming on my right. I see a farm from here. Is there anyone there sitting on their hill watching the sun too? Sometimes I wish for someone to be here too. People should see beauty together. And remember it. Soak it up. I think watching sunsets or glowing green forests is kind of like medicine to our human emotions. So then I'm half glad someones not here. You didn't keep your cool while walking it off. You throw rocks and sticks and why should that help? Maybe it should. mmaybe it does. Who knows. idk why our brains even think to do that when you're mad. Not everyone does. Why should I? blehhp. well. you made it to a brown hill surrounded by trees and a yellow covered sky. The beauty it shows you wins over the emotions and you sit and be calmed. The stars are peeping out. and its darkened everywhere. I just want life to be this beauty in all its moments. How did ugly lame pointless arguments and misunderstandings start becoming more often than this? And why isn't the whole world stopping to see the trees glow and turn into silhouettes. I'm not leaving. I'm never leaving this place. I'll make this moment the rest of my life. Then my life will be nothing but beautiful this. Alright. I stand up and turn to walk home. I have to cover my whole way back and it'll be black by the time I'm back (yes.yes I know. I'm a cute poet) Everything is black and lit by a half moon. Across the bean field I see a white tarp lain over it. I don't remember that. Of course not you blonde. Its the fog of the night. Sneakin' up on them plants. I could scare myself now if I let myself. The black and the white fog creepin' and the light from the moon. But its too pretty to be scary. Its the beauty of the night. Its the beauty we always miss cause we're focused on the unimportant matters in life. I turn around and the tractor is now silhouetted at the top of the hill with one star above it. One black tractor and a white star.
I think about this year. Its half over. I'm not ready for that.
I thought about someone who was good by stopping someone from expecting a bad year.
"Don't say that. Its going to be a nice year" Has it been a nice year Renita? I go through each month. Jan..Feb..March.. I go through what happened in each month. April, May.. June.. I love it all.
I hate some of it. I love most of it. It's beautiful. It teaches me. It's life. Its mistakes. Its blows. Its warmth. Its comfort. Its time.. July. August..anyway. I remembered the year. The good, bad and beauty and ugly and best and worst and greatest and
It's all crazy, It's all false, It's all a dream, It's alright,
Its what I say to myself and life.
alrighhh alrighh I think I'm done. Sometimes my brain just narrates my life on accident.
and don't read this, its all just nonsense probably. idknowwhat I write.
But once I turned around and counted 27 stars. Walked ten feet.
And then thought there was no way that was only 27. Recount and 27...34..37.... I found the big dipper.. and also I found my star...40..42.
A walk home with the white fence and the moon and its shadows.
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