"Bigly's Book of Memories"
Once I walk across my lawn
I jump into my pool of orange, pink, and blue substantiation.
It works so hard to get me shaken,
Wading through the golden waves I see in front of me.
Rolling back unto the north
I see Colossal,
I give a curtsy
To measure up the brute I've forged from my own mind.
I drink my tea to calm myself in the wake of the terrifying.
I climb back down the ladder 'cuz I see a tempting flash and buzz,
The sound I searched for ages was
Down in my pockets, deeper it goes.
I follow suit
I want to know again.
Every leaf grows dry with time
Falling from its mother branch down.
But just as it's old and withered
There lies infinite beauty in its crunching sound.
Every breath more shallow than the last.
Every thought a little crevice grown deeper.
A rolling rock only tumbles and falls
Until it's lodged between a few people.
"Happy Days Happen"
Happy days are bound to happen.
Happy days will even happen to you.
If you can't find any, don't worry:
They are just building up.
In storage they build up and up and up
And the pressure will tear down the ceilings,
And they will fall like rain!
Good days will rain down and feel as light as snow!
Good days will rain down to bring the birds and their singing!
Good days will rain and taste like what's on the tip of your tongue
But you can't remember quite what it's called because every time you bit =e into it it melts your eyes closed and drags a smile across your face.
Your good days will make you forget what was so bad about the bad ones
Happy days happen.
They will happen to you.
I left a loved one in the ocean
Felt the tide take her away
Now every time I'm in the water
I feel heavy and want to stay
All I got was a damn phone call
I needed an eternity to say
All the things that I loved about you
Now I only swim instead
Taking the people I call family through the thick bushels of the forest.
Ground up herbs in our pipe
the colors become concentrated.
The wet earth makes our toes chilly, but we’re warm nonetheless.
White noise, political theory, and singing pollutes the air like smoke.
One slice of heaven exists in the forest.