Billboards, so needed
to know what to do next
or where to go on life’s highway
littering the arteries
like some commercial placque
clogging our momentum
constricting our vision
so that a tunnel even feels normal.

© 2007 Beverlee Andrews

A statistic, measured
by what has been and what is to come
following what others have decided
blind in a fashion about what we really think
deaf to our own wants and desires
marked by the commercials
measured by the advertisers
we look and march alike
the drummer silent.

© 2007 Beverlee Andrews

Moving through life
letting the winds guide
staying open to the direction
that it takes us
smoothly at times
while other turbulent
keeping a wide berth
to allow change and movement
flexible as the wind
our energy flows.

© 2007 Beverlee Andrews

Marking time, we celebrate or not
passages of a kinder sort are longed for
driven by the days on a celestial ride
we sucome to expectations of the masses.

Marking time, we change our outside
seeking a glossy mag look
following a dream of beauty
knowing that it’s all mistaken identity.

Marking time, we lift our breasts
we suck out, pinch up and erase
lines that tell our story
forsaking ourselves for the ideal.

Marking time, we give ourselves
away piece by piece
inside us is a yearning to be seen
the mirror blocks our view as we
wipe away the next miracle.

Marking time, when time is through marking us
our hearts will rejoice
that our souls will be free
to recreate and begin again.

© 2007 Beverlee Andrews