That “I cannot think of a single thing to write about” Kinda Morning

The Soprano screams in vibratto

And my coffee has gone cold but carries the same rich flavour,

And the crow honks like an 80’s electronic synth,

And the sun is too bright to looks at the deep blue sky,

And the wind makes the branches dance like they’re at a summer lake party with sweet serenades for their waltz,

And the schmooker stands guard like a patron on opening night,

And the tinkle of wind chimes sounds the same as they did in my early days,

And the tags from the new hanging pots smack against plastic stands,

And the hanging pots contain purples and pinks and yellows which cry “I AM NOT JUST A YELLOW THANK YOU VERY MUCH I SHINE FAR TOO BRIGHT AS YOU CAN SEE AND YOU SHALL KNOW MY COLOUR SO JUST YOU STEAL A GLANCE IF YOU DARE!”

And the tiny statue by the water fountain of the boy feeding the curious squirrel is the perfect capture of the contradicting effort to care, though the romance of befriending the squirrel overrides the horror of the human scent on wild creatures,

And the chives are heavily pregnant with their highly developed buds, sinking earnestly to the damp soil,

For it rained softly last night as it had so often before and refreshed the fresh as it miraculously tends to do,

And I sit here fighting away the oppressive block capitals of thought beckoning “THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING TO WRITE ABOUT”, because it is just not true,

Since everything is moving,

And moments are never not being made

And the slip of the day is constantly tripping me,

And animals are risking everything every second,

And plants are pushing higher and higher

And while the world is alive there is too much to marvel at to ever be really dry of reactions

I just cannot always seem to open my heart as much as my eyes,

And the only cure is the work of reacting on the page, in the body, or on an canvas

Until there can be nothing but products of reactions.

By: Sarah C Louise

Photo from: http://hedybach.tumblr.com/

Someone Did That

Somebody Hired professional ekskavators

And somebody paid the doggy caretakers

And someone designed the pillars above benches

And someone dug cup holders from dirt trenches

And someone needs the lawn chair for back-alley smoke breaks

And someone changed the sign of the roads you will take

And someone stuffed fro-yos in brittle dead branches

And someone put out a plastic bag of matches

And someoneleft a teddy at a fatality sign

And someone gifted the bear bin with a half bottle of wine

And someone got the mangled rabbit off the road

And someone painted a card with the money they owed

And someone gave a kiss to their babe on that corner

And someone abandoned their freshly repaired horner

And someone bought those kakias to feel better dressed

And someone lived on that block where their hands were impressed

And someone devoured that tubby dog from that tray

And someone caved for that bakery window cake

And someone carried Nashville Skyline in that black plastic bag

And someone heard the crack of the crow that couldn’t be saved

And someone touched the toyota that cried in alarm.

And someone needed Peter’s to recall their mom’s charm

And someone turned an eye on that peg-leg musician

And someone else danced to his rhythmic transitions

And someone walked the shadey side on a sunny day

And someone bought their skis at a sale in late may

And someone chose Suess instead of Bukouski

And someone played gypsy punks while their coffee brewed slowly

And someone took home that dog they found on the reserve

And someone found the stage was the only place where they had the nerve.

And someone cared deeply that you cared a lot

And someone’s responsible for all that you’ve got

Someone did this

And someone did that

It’s nice to know that someone

Laid every brick and bent every hat.

By Sarah C Louise

Erik Johansson – Arms break, vases don’t (2008)