Do not hail or scorn me
Let me be me
For nothing else corny or cynical
Humorous or dangerous
Moves or "un-moves" me

I’ve searched and have found myself
I’ve reaped the truth of myself
For whatever skin I wear like the chameleon
To please or displease the world
It is still me – my very own me

I may or may not be
the hero the world expected
The prodigy you predicted
Even if I were or weren’t,
It will still be me
Deep inside that hide

huddle
up
dont show the worth

peepshow visions
from the earth

Your fingers are talking
through tangle hair
the restless crowd draws
in the hushed air
and you silence them
with your steady stare

something within moves
the clockwork of you
working

beneath the shaded sky
of fallen grey
where shadows creep
searching for prey

A scream echoes
In a crowded place
As a volley of thoughts
From voices battling to try
And manipulate

A screening of images
Flash like a newsreel
Capturing momentary scenes
In a capsule of time
That cannot be reached

An invasion on concentration
Collapses a coherent mind
Into indecisive muddle
That produces babble
From un-controllable lips

The path she took she knew,
knew so well
by her footsteps padded,
a button toe and tiny heel
sole flattened way
below the pines,
a strung winding
trodden line to her friend.

So many times
she traveled
sometimes eyes closed,
bare foot familiar,
feeling brown needles
soft sand
wandering roots
just where they should be,
route touches of
assuring signs,
breeze wisped
in tree cloaked
rustling forest fabric,
wrapping the nearby
watery sounds.