The sky’s pupil
Shone bright,
As did mans
Before death.

Snows melt
Drew my love quiet.
Falling upon  
The later ear.

Among this hardship bloomed the strong heart of a man.
I Cried as he did, and bore the strikes of depressions whip.
Cracking among the words I’ve spoken alone,
To the only ears I dare trust.
Among this bellowing wind of change crying loud,
I have lost my mark along the horizon,
For the leaves have been swept before my eyes, leaving me blind.
And though the wind shall again be tamed,
And the leaves shall fall in sweet silence,
I cannot begin to imagine
When this will come.

As the sky flew
overhead.
And the stars fell.
I felt ugly,
compared to its
Beauty.

You have reached
Within my soul
Roles reversed and I,
The stone has lost its role.

I am trees.
Transport of air.
Bare of chest, young,
Born again,
Torn again.

The feet I walk upon,
Are yours
For where you say
.
I will go

You die only once,
But live over and over again.
.
Enjoy it

No man transcends the thrown
From which his fate is
Chosen.
So die in blind
Ambition,
And live,
With naive joys.

Sad, I'm sad
But glad
To be bad
To be tones of anger
Thrown in your face

And for this split second
I'm alright
But again
I'm Consumed
Below anxieties surf

As for the sleeping sun, he has yet to rest his mind
The clouds persuade him to cry bright yet blue.
And as the flames grew strong, the cosmos took notice,
And away did his mark rest
Further, further as he grew.
Further through the stars
Until, like a droplet of water
He joined a puddle of light
Appearing as all the others
Unique like the grass,
Sad among his plight.

Your supple curves
Carve tears upon my cheek
For now they are nothing,
Just a memory.
And I laugh in the glowing sun
Knowing death has yet to come
And you are not the one.

The fool seeking love,
is naive to his own soul,
the tremors which rattle his heart
have yet to break it,
but no doubt,
with good time,
they will.

A ridiculed bud sought companionship,
were none lay.
with time slipped, minutes, hours into days,
With all these sorry couples lying proud,
lay the bud quiet,
crying loud.
Crying how it had come, the sunless ray.
the dreary existence
painted to stay.
And so the paint has seeped
following his tears,
the bud looked to bloom
but in this hope
he surely was doomed.

Foghorn crying straight proud
Of himself
Licking the smog formed brisk upon days seal
Out of the picture fresh of pollution and
Real
Dreams held in hands uncaring and uncool
And that's why
I wish my hopes were held
By you

This beast, wild as the roaring winds,
roams along my peace
seeking with intent to destroy
what i have built.
The snow has fallen as the day before,
yet of its presence i feel a core
melt along with mine.
Unable to salvage the wax wings,
i have grown to large
to brave in the glare of arrogance.

With the earths cool touch i swallow the world
and dream of triumph.

That storm within my head has rotted me so.
Whats to be of the bird mimicking my sanity;
A cry sung to deaf ears, again forgets reality.
So, it grows as the days go by, at knees to a lovers eye
So, love has come, as it will go, forget not to feel;
That which has been felt at that sworn goodbye.
Thoughts of peace torment a soul;
That storm within my head has rotted me so.

That storm within my head has rotted me so.
Frail of resilience against the blowing words torn;
All said of love in absence of light, again is born.
As I was, blind to faith, seeing fly, man’s pale wraith.
A blistering inferno of summers reel;
Of epic sights surging a man standing great.
Yet I, left behind, mustn’t grow,
That storm within my head has rotted me so.

Lily, my sweet water lily, let not the ripples swill your flame,
nor the warted toad exceed your range.
Though the rain disturbs the water it cant disrupt our love,
This lonely love I pray you feel aswell, keeping you up,
as it does I.
Though the words I say are battered within the tumbling droplets, and fall into mere ripples upon your grace,
I will never stop crying them loud.
Though stones skipped, scar your once pristine complexion, I cant mind, for I too have left myself robbed
of self love.

Better to be drunk and inspired, then to be nothing at all

Once more did the snow fall slick
Drip, drip slicking the road did the water works.
Her tears took me along a dark street,
With the shadows I heard my fears,
Doubts and sorrows;
Playing loud then quiet with no stop
Again I continued along the solemn path,
Until
I reached her loving bones,
Home was how it felt, her joints rattled eerie gasps
Of my deceit
And I knew of it all, the love,
The sorrow,
That I should not have brought her here.

The hare dug up the soil
Seeking life among the sycamore roots,
Gentle rhythms serenading the earth,
Yet it stopped,
Calling how rude the hare
For ripping at its surface
But the hare shan't care, for it means little to the earth,
As the earth means nothing to the North Star.
So why shall the small be placed large among the worries
Haunting the lively marble.
To say

If you seek a rose within a wheat field you shall search forever.

Had you a sense of the word before its use?
Pre- insult powered of hatred,
Had you nothing but a mere willow of its language
Its vowels weeping along your tongue,
Lashing out, breaking skin;
Had you fear of the unknown, yet ventured nonetheless.
A little lost threat,
Of this I will bet
Calls empty as the barren scape,
In this I doubt
Word of mouth will escape.

Within the room she sat, lined of wood and paint,
Did the sun highlight her emerald eyes and her pursed lips.
Whispering her lies
Of I and her, dates long over, kisses lasting forever.
once this energy has been shared, it will last.
Of future words striking light upon times past,
So let me lay, listen and love, this angel carried by heavens
Dove.

You, lonely eyes, have accompanied me through
The destruction of worlds,
The dreary plague crying constant sad.

You, flower upon wood, flow free of your own mind.
And for this I love your folded ears,
Your growls flaming a soft smile.

Within this finite feeling rolls mothers tears, growing
Quite continuous stirring in the summer
Rays; yet I have no control, no thought paroled.

Parrots upon the screens I watch, as real as the day is dead,
You, lost soul, envy the phony,
The rich in money, but poor in dignity.

Graceful I lay, bout the grass, stretching shade
Along my limbs, the life line I call upon, from joy to blade.
Grey sorrow flicks my nerve
Streaming flight with grace so near
Ghosts of my deeds often done
Crawl of grave reeking tears
Burning minds infinite run.

So green again turns a glamorous white, dancing upon itself,
As the sky meets earth, sleeping along the horizon.
The grass has perished, but dreams flaming in ash live,
A spruce standing of pride below the north star.
And time has swung selflessness in the bitter, calling forgive!
Let fly smiles of joy, a rhapsody folly with life.
To fret in thought of inked paper, rests below thought in mind,
as persistent beauty calls faux a changing tide.
And too does the tide seize, with blades etching abstract within,
the cover it crouches below, breathing a gentle glow;
Below the constant moon, wishing me happy from my window sill.

The continuous lively hood
Of the street corner.
Cars twisting about the brick,
Honking songs of anger.
Littered shakes calling friendship,
Oh
How I envy!
A maze made of pale blue
Hanging over heads
Of the shakes.
But I do
Not,
Wish to escape this abyss.
I have been so dreaming of it.
Dreaming stars upon  
Glass,
And the puddle lining stone.
Intricate lay her solemn head
At my feet.
For
I,
Stale among the standing,
Release a smile within these
Walls.

That break in brick, layered
Upon grass,
Grew swift and strong,
Blew in rift ever wrong.
At my feet to the crown of
My head,
Gentle gloom cast on leaves
Bored dead,
Papers crying fire nigh,
Fork words of a years lie.

The timbre wolves dreamt a lone dream;
Realm of the young, a gentle
Scream,
Cries it untrue,  I am me;
I am a stream of lost quests concerning future,
concerning death,
It is path, valued if she, they, the queen jewel.
Cruelty crowned the lost soul, the howling hound.
Calling upon moonlight jazz, it's grand rule.

Left of hope lies, love.
The prowling lion,
The snowy dove.
Drawing near my way,
To light ahead,
The bird of prey.
But I'm caught
The candle burns,
But blind to light
Is hope of sight.

I fear Life,
As I do death,
Dark.
To dream,
Of both,
I will wake up
Yearning love, sweet
Love,
And company.
For both
Scream
Loneliness

My jacket sat warm below me.
And I sat warm in my home.
The vein below her eye,
Flowed blood as if to cry,
Why?
At least she's alive.
My last love, she has died;
Not of natural cause,
But a broken heart.

So I grabbed my jacket,
For I am a dreamer.
And
I
Do
Not wish to dream of loves
Rapture.
Instead I shall witness,
horizons end,
And know it shall not follow.

And beauty cries of envy for her
Not of the most superficial;
but because she laughs at the stars,
and rolls against the blowing wind.
The rains of stormfront seek;
to be loved within doubt, loved
upon the grazed fields locking her reflection,
within the sight it sets.

Yet she is mad of desire,
mad as the dog among the iron wire.
Though so am i, mad too,
but of guilt,
of greed in the shallow mans sea.
And upon that thought rolled
the tire.
Away she went
Dreaming swift along the dolphin ever blue;
below surf ,
distant of me.

She b l e w me away,
Like the winter winds.
F l e w me to her eyes,
Where the sirens sing.

And I could not help,
But love her song.
The sweet serenade,
Of times since gone.

The chickadee sung of dawns brilliant sun,
He drew me young and happy.
Though morning mourned its swift demise,
I smile in life's blinding rhapsody.

The songbird continued a great reprise,
Of emeralds bellies value.
Narrow of sight upon black so bright,
Ever so quick to catch you.

The fallen son in an obsidian night,
Shattered his hope of heart.
Grand amour of a long living jewel,
Enticed a rise from dirt.

I saw you when you were blind to all, upon the ragged snows
At springs first thaw
For this is you, the coming of green
The whistling winds
The widows grief;
So gentle and sad
I,
Saw it so,
But remained unseen.

So I skip essentials of growing up;
And strip bark from tree.
Let the sky turn red as the poppies head.
For I ride drunk of love to be free.

Son of one has left us, stirred of emaciation
Upon plank has the heat grasped?
Love of the tree to brook, a forgotten relation,
Just as dirt on hand shall never pass.
Free of gloom,
Amongst passing in pending doom,
Hitherto forgotten, yet a thought shan’t lash;
And youth coward as cowards seek mass
Sheltered here forever more,
Rain shall rust minds steel door
About refuge of heat spoken in rhythm.
Grasp faith and defect from lore
The end is nigh, though do not give in.

And so it breaks as I break
But to say that is that
No lies it would be
Death has come and I have watched
As the albatross stays at peaks Unknown
I forget of it and truth that must be for death has yet to claim me.

And so I left,
Not because I was weak
But because,
I Was human