The problems with simplicity are as follows:

We waste no time figuring a       way out
             because the path rests rightinfront of our feet,
and we're  amazed when
  the pages of instructions   lead us to the   complete,

but isn't that exactly what they're for?

The simplest of designs can portray
the exact    same     messages
that   are     hidden   amongst
      some of    the   most controversial and  complicated    presages.

and complicated doesn't run our planet earth anymore.

We're   trapped inside  an    age    of simplicity,
         starting at    A          and   landing at  B,
connecting dots     that were   so obviously   layed before us,
 because  we want things A.S.A.P.

 it's   a struggle just to try   to paint a    picture.

And if we fall out of the flow          with no  simple mindedness,
    we run   out   into  the world   with   extreme  eccentricity,
and we, at often times,  find ourselves,
         falling into the  simpleness of   simplicity.

Is there a problem?

    the simple    brilliance of a   simple man,
can   simply drive him      to  finish   what    he   intends,
with   a whole new outlook, and  whole new  eyes,
just      so        things        will      be    easier   in the end.

Are we  in   an  age  of laziness?

Or are  we  just   simply   brilliant.
because there are  thousands  upon   thousands  of ways,
to  complete      simple   tasks, and there are       easier     ways,
      to complete them, so  the   complex  mind will  appraise.

And this is          where       complexity  stands  strong.

   with    what   we  know,  we can play out every outcome,
and   we  can   shadow  the   easiest and more  efficient way,
but   by  opening  up   our   minds   to the  complexion of every situation,
and realizing        that  we   don't      have to live   in  dog  days

anymore.

and   realizing   that  the  most  difficult   of tasks,
can be tackled with   new eyes  and  we can  clear away  the haziness,
and  discover  efficiency over the old   ways
and we can exercise every place in our brain and know that it's not laziness

but simple brilliance.

Simpleness is the world I’m growing up in,
and i plan on making my contribution simpler,
by tackling things with brand new eyes.
and walking life a little easier.


© 2011 the still air

Get In the Car

Transgressions and transformations.
Reincarnations of tattered souls. 
Remember what dreams are composed of,
Remember we are only fools.

If we don't accept changes,
And live strictly off of hypotheses,
The only change we could undergo,
Is end of friendships and new enemies.

You see our mind has a mind of it's own,
And within it is our functions,
And we control our functions,
So change is all part of that motion.

Openness is a saint. 
We cannot conduct energy,
Unless we accept all transgressions,
And become the transformer for the enemy. 

Everyone is the enemy,
And we are all due for new formation,
So please don't be scared,
when the lights touch down in new motions. 

Keep the car running. 
Keep the engines purr,
To be heard from a distance.
To be heard. 


© 2011 the still air

we're all the same, we're all uniqiue

we're all composed
of 206 bones
layered with skin
layered with sin
we're constantly told, "we're all the same"
blood cells, muscles, tissues, brain.
we all contain similar physique,
so why are we told, "we're all unique?"
our insides, in a way
are all the same,
though some pieces are missing,
hearts are still beating
pumping blood at intense pressure like some sort of perk,
brains are functioning even if they don't work
and we live the same life,
find our meaning, and then die,
so if we're all so unique
why are our days on repeat?
the outside is where the differences are.
we're labeled like we're in boxes and jars,
and sub-categorized for our own terms
even if we don't affirm.
if we looked in our mirrors,
would we see any clearer?
or would the question ponder
would we even slightly wonder.
are we all the same,
or all unique in different ways.

or are we all the same because we're all unique?


© 2011 The Still Air

There is something about these dragonfly's

are they kissing the water
   deciding if the taste is worth settling with ?
or  are they touching their feet along the surface
  wishing they could swim alongside the fish?
is the congregation communicating
   about a possible shift traverse ?
or are they just being peaceful          
   lazily waiting for  the intense heat to disperse?
i wonder if the instinct of the dragonfly's mind
   is as complex as that of me or her
and i can't help but wonder
   if the connection between them is instinctively defer
or truly something so much more vibrant
   and containing so much more complexion
than the simple motion i take to move us
   using a complex set of systems controlled by minds election .
simply done
   but difficult to explain why
is that a feeling
   felt by these dragonfly's ?
is instinct part of me or us
   like the instincts of the creatures ?
or is it more than that?
   is it beyond measures?
if these tiny swift creatures understood love
   would their intents be the same ?
or would  they be confused on who they are or what they are for
   similar to the thoughts that make us insane?
or would they still follow their instincts
   but treat the other as a muse ?
there's just something fascinating about these dragonfly's
   that have me captivated and amused.

© 2011 The Still Air

waking to lime light.

Chasing the wake
 catching the shoreline
leaving a dream
 to find the time
everchanging so slowly
 hands moving with a slight
sense of actual time
 under the lime light.


© 2011 The Still Air

Focus

The    act    of    concentratingthethoughts,
The art of         moving your      eyes,
Along each       detail and                   smile line
In the           second              you realize;

        The beautiful scenery     allaround,
                  Will   CONCOMITANTLY          d sappear
     as the       continuous         eyelock begins,
and         you focus on only     what'snear.

© 2011 The Still Air

the only night

and still the trees sway
and still the winds make way


and still a season swiftly moves
and still the slightest change approves


and still a fire warms a room
and still the sky reaches gloom


but as the still fire crackles in peace
the stillness of winter will greatly increase


and the stillness brings a silence over the planet
and yet still the clattering glasses of the banquets


will not affect the stillness of the open air
or the people who still watch the silence stare


and still a tiny crack in the night breaks light
and still we toss on this sleepless night


but still it's the only night that uptakes
the only night where we'll smile while we lay awake

© 2010 The Still Air

December

Hello December Air,
  i've  been waiting
for   your   breezes here,
and    your   unique friends to start     
                                                       falling.
Hello Winter Breath,
i had  wondered if you'd  evenconsider
  letting your  unique  friends  visit
 as     winters     wonders.

Hello Pretty Weather,
  thank you     for  the  quiet,
that         her and   i   will   walk through,
    hand     in   hand,   along  with    your      climate.

Hello Cold Breeze,
  blow   your  wind  across the  sky,  silently
and   let it       turn my red   cheeks numb
 so i   can  sit  with   her by the       fire..          cozy .


© 2010 The Still Air

dances

singing is an action .

an   action  of passion .

while painting   is the emotion .

withstanding  great  notion .

   Dancing   is   the    action

of portraying     PASSION

through painting             invi sibly,

   with the      free      flo win g        feet.

              let it take you          where it wants,

  let it      sustain,             let it       ha unt

let it    compose   its      w ords

     as    its  rhythm   continues       upwar ds.

yes, i wa nt        to dance,

under  stars    in  the    expanse.

yes, i ch oose   you

not because your fancy footwork intrigues me right through,

but because dancing is the action of portraying passion. 

                                                                           emotion. 

                                                                           devotion  .

© 2010 The Still Air

The dream

The dream is staring into stars,
wishing they'd  stare back at it

the             dream is
   waiting   in the airwaves

mingling amongst   the     otherdreams
waiting       for an   imaginer  to    open

their     mind    and    let things     exist
the        dream  can   onlyexist   in the beholder

if the beholder exists in the dream.
the beholder only exists in tragedies.

© 2010 The Still Air

a little movement

a little movement,

can  cha nge a day

a little movement

and  you'll   convey

a little movement

to   make a heart  obey

a little movement

you'll feel  de fray

move a little

and  feel    a new

move a little

and   pursue

move a little

and   stare into  vast blue

move a little

until you  know it's you

no movement

shows  you 're headst rong

no movement

makes  time  prolo    ng

no movement

can be all   you are   lifelo ng

no movement

doesn't  putyou   where you    belo ng

so move a little.have a little movement.

© 2010 The Still Air

November air.

I glimpsed it  s       arrival
    i ll         say it   glimpsed  me
and    i saw    it   toda y
in  a way    only  i could   see.

I    felt   it     surr ound me
in it s         breeze       i  had       awaited.
it s          air         had not  stopped
had   not       given  in       or    hesi tated.

I    heard      it
  and       in       a way     I avoided it
by  layerin g       on         resistance
that         made      me          admit:

I  am   not        a part  of  weather
i m          merely   breathing       a ir
and as    i          accept the    art of    everyt hing
i ll     breathe      again             i  swear.


© 2010 The Still Air

New

Why wait for a new day
when       i'm enjoying this one.

what are     we looking forward to,
before the     day has   won.

It  was    in the  night,
that    I   composed a  dream,

of  us,  all of us,
just    us, fooling     around, it would seem.

And the mo ments   before,
that        we would wish       stayed longer,

were the   reasons      today was,
so      much   stronger

             than

TOMORROW.

why wait when
        these dream
are what we
         live for?


© 2010 The Still Air

wait for me a moment

wait for me a moment.
turn the clock back & break its hands
leave it to die,
and don't let it demand.

don't let it demand your age,
just let it die in discontent.
let it lay with its broken hands.
wait with me this moment.


© 2010 The Still Air

we're not dreaming.

she can't believe a dream,
because the dream cannot compare,
to the reality of the outside;
the beauty of it's fair.

she believes a dream
because the dream compares
to the reality of the outside;
the skin is fair.

We're not dreaming.

© 2010 The Still Air

this

this isnt the same place

this isnt the world

that we grew up in; 

one boy     one girl

its strangely different

differently strange

in a whole new light

in an odd way

i like it

no i love it absolutely

and i want it to stay

forever indubitably

© 2010 The Still Air

waiting.

we would whisper when we were waiting.
we would wait where we weren't welcome.
waiting where we wouldn't want winning.
we wouldn't wreck when we wait.
we wouldn't wait when we wreck.
we were where we were. waiting. wishing. welcomed.
we weren't wishing.

we were waiting.
we're welcome.



© 2010 The Still Air

Someones Light

I saw a light across the creek,
it meant nothing at first,
but it became clear,
someone’s night must be the worst.


I wouldn’t leave my light on,
with my fascination of the dark;
it’s an escape from reality,
yet strange terrain to embark.


A mystery, to me, 
is who is over there?
Is someone so troubled,
perhaps needs some care?


It’s easy to see,
what this light means.
At 4:12 am,
no one feels like kings or queens.

© 2010 The Still Air

Looks Like An Angel

I    built   a      ship,
as weak    as can be,
but          strong enough to sail,
       your salt filled sea.

                          And you let your waters,
                          drift me away,
                                    now i’ll never get        home,
at least not today.

I     see     the      light
in the                   distance,
           guiding me,
in the                  silence,

and     the       night takes souls,
       but the light brings peace,
                             this light helps the dark,
come to      cease.
 

because it looks like  an  angel
and  it  walks  with  the  night,
but      it      sings    with   me,
Until    everything’s      alright

My ship             bringsworry,
and      sorrow for       stock,
and it’s all that          I’ve known,
it’s all that                 I’ve got.

With    a small        hesitation,
and a sense of the                  wind,
      I’ll let this       apparition,
           take all that’s      within.

because it looks like  an  angel
and  it  walks  with  the  night,
but    it    sings    with       me,
Until      everything’s    alright

I’ve       screamed for       days,
and                         I stumble upon it now,
and my ship made it,
                             all this way somehow.

            From battering rocks,
and hitting sand beds,
             I swore I’d never     find          you,
now         I’m over my
                      head   .
 

because you look  like  an  angel
and  you  walk  with  the  night,
and    you     sing     with     me,
Until       everything’s      alright         .

© 2010 The Still Air

Hello October

Please, allow me to paint a setting,

                for those who can't sit and watch a leaf fall,

                for those who can't catch a glimpse of a cold wind,

                for those who can't stare up into the blue sky,

                and know that snow will soon touch the earth's skin.

Please, allow me to create this thought,

               that a world that decays its aging leaves,

               lets them fall so far to the lost, lonely ground,

               will let them join the leaves of the past,

               and let them be warm and silenced without a sound.

Please, allow me to tell you,

               this world needs more dead leaves.

               This world needs more us to keep it warm.

               This world needs so many more of you and I's.

               This world could use more open arms.

Please, allow me to die,

               an interesting statement, right?

               But look at what all the dead leaves do.

               I want to do my part, I want to be purposeful.

               I want to be a dead leaf, and a dead leaf that's true.

© 2010 The Still Air