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Category Archives: dreams

The pursuit
is the truth
My passion has clouded my clarity
with boisterous,
bulging cloud formations
Beautiful, passing, plump
Everything up to this point
directed me to a warm moment of panic
a painful relief
I have not been touched
with such tender assurance
than when I was
disappointed
The sweet prize was
disguised as a goal –
something to aim for
when the Truth was having
a barrel to look through
down
into

Britta B.

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There’s just something about somebody
who just
shows up
unannounced, no calls
no signals

just appears

He just shows up
from around the corner

gives you that look
that you can’t look

away from

Britta B.

Virtually trapped on a
literal locomotive
I go places only with my body
while my mind sits, stuck working
overtime
filing memories from the wastebasket
into fresh refurbished cabinets

Oh this present
just isn’t as good as
what I can make the past become…

Britta B.

You look
so
divine

You must have discarded
a whole heap of dirty garb
to get that clean

How did you
shed the rust
of your unhelpful relatives?
How did you free
the remedy of your inherent habits?
Can you take it for what it is
if you bring
it out of me?

Nature has Her ways, souls
rubbing souls
for Earthly calibration
I am the catalyst
You are the Scientist’s prescription
for a healthy heart
Good health
is sensitive to unhealthy servants
and no one knows it more than you
how even the undeserving have a purpose
“There’s nothing more necessary
than the unnecessary”
There’s nothing more divine than losing your religion

As I sit
with you
under the toenail of a
closed cathedral
I wonder, what if
out of the 144,000
you were the first

When the question hitches a ride with
the westbound wind
you catch on too with your photo-maker
causing a traffic jam raising the blade
of your eyebrow all to say without sound:
I’d be the first to refuse

See, this is why I like you
you’re no anchor
no black hole ether

You just haven’t met anyone
who catches light
like you yet

Britta B.

Manipulators don’t like
to be manipulated
Facilitators don’t like
to be facilitated

But a fool!
A fool loves to be fooled…

Britta B.

Stewing in the skin of my inward eye
probable and prone to tunnel vision
I satisfy
the perversity of repetition

When impulse takes me by the hand
we give substance to silhouettes
We do what we must
to quiet the fuss

Out to seek
what is seeking me
Hunting for a higher Truth

People hand the best they can
not the way
you want them to

When I say, I have no words
I’m not trying hard enough
When I say, I have no choice
my mind’s been made up

We do what we must
to quiet the fuss

With my voice, I collapse
I’ve never had my heart broken
only an ego scratched
and my desire requires many reminders

Harmonious woman, you deliver life
everything else passes or purely assists
Don’t try to make love
it already exists

And excuse
my imposition
but consider the privilege
it is to consider the position

you’re in

Forgiveness
isn’t as much as what you leave
as it is
to where you return

When will you learn you have so much to learn?

Oh, we do what
we
must

Britta B.

 

Special Thanks to: Paul Janicki, producer/editor

For pictures from the shoot and more eye candies, check out Andy’s blog: http://andyjuma.blogspot.ca/

She who has yet to learn to love landscapes, not men
Loses herself in thought, constant thought, thinking and feeling
Her imagination is cruel
She’s obsessed, addicted to
Nature, and her attempts to nurture it
(she’ll die from natural causes anyway)
She is a mountain lion on a public beach
She is but a loose thread from a ripped sleeve
Wrapped around a thrusting heart
A heart that pumps and bumps into many things
All she wants
Is to be still

Growing old in her mid-twenties from looking
At love through the eyes of the past
Compulsive thinker she is,
Her mind uses her
All she wants
Is to be still

With candles lit, hot tea sips
She begins now to
Break free, open
Puts her mind between her hands and into a good book
She watches where her mind goes, loses it
Enlightened, she
Realizes she is not the thinker she thinks she is and instead
Watches her self think
Observes her self feel
She disconnects from mind and body
She is a soul again
Resting alive in peace

“You are one with all that is”
Here
Now
Please, be still.

Britta B.

one hazy morning
i awoke
to a glass of mystery and a splash of some fresh sun 
a brown-skinned mister
a warm brown-skinned mister wearing nothing but his sleeves
lay next to me, quietly, watching me dream

he declared a nightmare he battled and won as i
dragged my palm across scars bruises burns
touching him on purpose
where i’m sure it once hurt 
but then the fool kissed my hand
as if to take all that pain back, I
couldn’t wipe the smirk
off my face
he had me wrapped
in his warm
didn’t want a blanket to do his job
this hazy morn’ i was
beside myself with him

perhaps, there was no return to reality

Britta B.