There’s construction on the bridge
makes me not want to cross it
even though the construction
is being done underneath
it just slows things down
There must be another way
-Saschia
There’s construction on the bridge
makes me not want to cross it
even though the construction
is being done underneath
it just slows things down
There must be another way
-Saschia
Days grow
Nights shrink as I adjust my legs
There is a place here for me
Awake
not in some dreamy state
Grounded not drifting
-Saschia
rain drums the roof of my car
inside dry
warm
satisfied and full of
stars and fables
full of life
no crisis
no resolutions
just existence
-Saschia
I pace back and forth
like a caged animal
waiting
for a stray hand
and an unsuspecting little one
Maybe just one time they won’t pay attention
and I can slip them between the bars
Some eye me down
and to show them who’s boss
I lick my lips
and then theirs
and then my own once again
swallow your advice
and slide me something
I can sink my teeth into
-Saschia Johnson
Grinning she fills her hands with cupcakes and her pockets with candies. There’s no bringing her down. Her head is in the clouds full of happy dreams fed to her from a tv screen. She’s one positive guru with her bad feelings black and charred secretly tucked in the base of her Medulla. Her secrets barbecue her unbecoming. Shhh… she’d say anytime someone mentioned the smoke drifting from her ears. She’d have nothing ruin her day or force her smile the other way….
….to be continued
My reality is a dream
I sit in it everyday
I wake up to it and fall asleep to it
I ran from it
and now I grasp it as tight as I can
I don’t want to let it go
I don’t want to be anywhere else
Here with my loves
Among their blooms
Among their thorns
Is where I wish to be
-Saschia
Just give me a world
where I can wear binoculars
and collect grains of meaning
I will hunt for the center
til it spins into the abyss
I will search near and far
with hopes that it will all
lead to the place
where the sea finally meets
the sky
-Saschia Johnson
I’m waiting for that time to come
For the perfect moment
For a time to breath,
to think
But the best time is now
I should get more focused now
Because later might not come
So I need to mix my clay,
gather my bricks,
and start stacking bit by bit
-Saschia
Who are you when you’re
not looking,
when that sweat is dripping
from your brow
When your feet are up
on the couch.
Can you define yourself?
Not your hobbies
or your top responsibilities,
but who you are,
those spaces,
between your out-right
maddening choices?
“I’m a little purple person,” it whispered in my ear. “I run and frolick and think of the many ways I can return to you. It’s just a matter of getting to you.” It takes ten huge steps away from me, but since it’s so small it doesn’t get more then 3 inches from my face. It sits, crosses it’s legs, and faces me. “In between the spaces is space, my dear poet, it’s space to be filled with memories and love and if you even feel the need, hate.” The little purple person then lays down staring at my popcorn ceiling, and places two arms behind his head. “And if you must know, my dear poet, the space between my maddening choices is balance. Where the imagination runs wild because the madness isn’t present, but it was and it will be. Some call it peace, but I believe, my dear poet,” he faces me now, “it’s best left temporary. Because to grow we must change.” He goes silent and slowly closes his eyes. I study this tiny person. He must be no bigger than my thumb. I roll over and look at my popcorn ceiling. My eyes slowly close. That could be true, it could be true.
It’s not 12 yet
I still have time to finish
today’s checklist
There’s a world at my fingertips
If I could just grasp it
Wrangle it in
and spit it into words
Zaza zoom…
Bada bing…
Hmm…
I guess those aren’t the words
I’m looking for
-Sasch