how I long to find
the one who isn't

frightened by
my love

why so long to wait?

when birds flap restless to settle upon the ends of your command
are they fully cognizant of what awaits them?

there comes one dove who really means no harm
and dies to please you in every position and way

fix your mien and and touch that pulse inside (the other one)
and maybe your cynicism can be smacked with truth.

they hold tubes of ink and can grip cumulus ends
type out the letters of sinking words I lie fallow for
they curl disdainful and wipe out tracts untainted

flakes come off the ceilings in my stretch to the sky
planes skim clouds overhead and truckers roar by
little whips to frenzy, the calm of your cyclic beauty

I exist happenstance on the indulgence of your digits.

the best time is our secret when I am blessed with the fortune of
circling overhead the debris of your existence
and falling in love with your fecund mind each time

you don't know it yet, but so many gems live within the bowls of your pain
your patterns are ejected from your ancient fears with alarming accuracy
a test subject of exiguous view
you open the heavens on us all
and how you are loved!

tomorrow, as usual, I will come and perch on your shoulder
and peck at the pieces of your remnant mind
it's my job to let you reach your best

I cannot apologise for the same thing you do
to me

please to take the hand and lead the way to the next moment of difficulty
walk up to the offended and offer sorries to a scribbling pen looking down

mad and mixed up, seeker on ironic bend of heart sap in a vat, cracked a bit
swearing to do better from a record of silly peccadilloes steeped in arrogance

all around with notepads which scratch and jot down every single word, I see
chances have to be bought with obedience drummed into a free head

break your spirit, take what the world gives
there's little space for a heart wishing to fly

it hangs sullen from ropes made of judgment, discord is tangled in every breath
guesswork at the outcome, uncertainty the only thing that is certain
trials and hearings hold the lives of others in the hands of men, bent on working some out

society, as a rule, ***** at extending compassion
they cut off the hands that feed the monstrous system
and the eyes of stereotype crinkle, bemused and complacence smiles sly

true justice is a shy thing, skittish and absent
standing on the sidelines, it's a hopeless mess!

into your hands, come astonishing things
like wide yarns of wishes and dribbling dreams
if you hold on tight and yet easy
we may alight the route around the eyes of time

nothing stops the sweet running over cobbles
nor the petals of desire in red blooms
deep red and blushing open
I want to see your eyes when I fall into you
and when the tips of our want can twist sculptures out of black holes

this is when I crush your flowers, just like you want me to
don't you?