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Tag Archives: exercise

Life is a cliff-hanger
some of us are the cliffs with clingy grievances hanging from our shoes and ankles
some of us refuse to let go of these people we feel sorry for
some of us are escape artists
built with strength and emotional power to pull ourselves up
and onto the cliff
not knowing there will be more cliffs
not knowing there will be more people and events to hold us down
like the string of a helium balloon tied to a chair or to a wrist
I am small and bound to burst
I am full and cannot flee my purpose

Britta B.

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.

Cigarettes have a subtle way of slathering succulence
to the itty bitty
holes inside my person
I was surprised to see so many holes were there
but in the moment those vacant lots
began to fill up with air
I was
full again

with emptier pockets
and bigger holes

I accused
the cigarette, called it perpetrator
for poking fingers
into open wounds
just to see how far it could go before touching bone
when really
it was the wound to blame
for foolishly inviting an arsonist in for company
into my home

Don’t you know
how
smoke
persuades
me
and my wounds
dance
when wounds
know very well
the first toke could be my last
but damn,
what’s another inhale
to an exhale
what’s another inhale to an exhale full in its release
with a consistency of relief
when every inhale is a struggle
every breath making the concept of Life
seem like a disease

Between being under the influence
between having a choice
and having a chance
in the end
every feeling, person, and habit will experience death
no matter how, what or why
no matter how good of a dancer you are
no matter how good you are
at frisking the sky
you will surprise yourself… and then you will die

and while you’re aware of your dying
that’s when you’re really living

Maybe
I won’t smoke the other half of yesterday’s cigarette tonight

maybe

instead

I will meditate
on who’s smoking the other half of me

Britta B.

I cry a lot
More often than I exercise
But this crying is exercise, a release
A good hustle to the top of the bottom of something
a hill or hole
depending on the day and how much strength I have in
confronting my weakness

Although, I am not weak just because I cry
I am most certainly alive
For I can feel the two furthest bits of me, kiss
Pain kissing Peace
Peace killing Pain

Britta B.

What would you risk your life
to write?

would it be a name
a birthday, date, place
or time?

what about directions;
could you write a legend?

could you tell the truth?

what would you write?

who would you want to read it?
who would be in mind?

We artists
are closest
to the Gods

for we create
recreate
recreationally
and as a job

If I had to risk my life, I’d write:
I con art into love
I con art into love
I con art into love
I con art into love

ICONARTINTOLOVE

Britta B.