You are my air, my sun, my moon, my stars, my life.
You’re in the breeze, the ocean, the trees and the sidewalks.
You take each breath for me and every drop of blood coursing through my veins is yours.
You fill up every second, minute, hour and day.
You haunt my dreams, nightmares and every waking moment.
Your voice is in every love song I hear.
You live in every tear that rolls down my cheeks because they’re all for you.
You place every blade to my skin because it’s the only way you’ll know you’re beautiful.
You’ve made my life wonderfully and tragically lovely.
You are every bit of me and when I turn to dust I shall live inside your heart.
You saved me and you will be the death of me.
Clouds are floating by,
In the beautiful evening sky,
There is a faint sunset in the west;
And seagulls are flying home to rest.
The moon's rays fall gracefully to the ground,
Such beauty doth here abound,
The lighthouse is standing stately on the rocky coast;
I shall always love this place the most.
The waves are crashing in motion,
The moonlight reflects in the ocean,
Three palm trees are dancing on the rocky coast;
This place I love the most.
The full moon is shining from way up high,
It is so beautiful I'm ready to cry,
And as the moonlight hits the shore;
I shall hold this place dear forevermore.
Enjoy!!! :) ~~~<3
Helen shall I dash my hopes upon your rocks
Sacrifice my ship to sinking sirens song
Chase your willowisp into the dark swamps deadly mist?
Sultry siren sing to me
And bring me
Towards the jagged expectations of your ever changing shores
I shall sink myself upon the shark filled shoals
Where sailors seek salvation
And find their high hopes drowned
To fall into the endless dark
Where skeletons enthroned
All wear the coral crown
Oh Helen I shall send a fleet with high flags flying
And chance your shifting sands
I shall risk the rocks and waves
the highs and lows of your desire
I shall steer my ship towards heaven
And hope to reach it's shores
The colour of youth was there, and all youth is
in black and white.
Thinner and shallower
as the wind blows you off
We are the pupils, the innocent souls.
It shall be perrished, and the sins are borrowed.
About time to pause the moment.
Can't you see we're on the rise yet?
Your sickness grows up faster, faster
trying to hold us down,
and the mold of Gold is melting.
Searching for a new tragedy as to it was meant
for any of this to happen, aren't you?
But your mighty wall falls into the ground at last
I shall said;
nothing governs nothing
Beneath San Pedro’s coast
Lay tiny monsters
Where ancestors of long past
Still fury their curse in puppet form
Action of devil play
Cast by High to taunt commercial soul
Unleash burden of possession
And the will of Yahweh
Give away the law of oppression
And start anew
Revolution cries “Freedom”
In the pale yellow afternoon
Life comes fast
And it’s gone too soon
In a world of blues
Won’t do too much
In the real world
The insanity avenue
Basket of food
Pass around, take what ya like
Share with your brother
Share with your sister
Share with your neighbor
Share with a stranger
From here to forever
This is the unfolding of everything
It’s a movie and you’re the character you want to be
In the end, how all this plays out, we shall see
Keep sharing -
Sharing never hurt anybody
I take a sip of black coffee
It sits resting in the ceramic mug next to this typing space
The liquid rushes down my throat
This fifth cup of the hour brings joy
Is it a crutch, for I miss my usual companions of mind expansion?
Or is it a common cultural ritual of casual importance?
Is it a tool to fuel the fire of prolific inspired thoughts?
Or is it an illusion of harmful dedication to fulfill the need to write?
I feel it helps,
Though, naturally, it is not necessary.
Just as wine to wet the palate of flow,
Or an herbal cigarette to get the picture on the roll, the scroll, the holy goal
It simply is a habit - an extra step to the top floor of Creation.
I've been in the fields - the plantations
I've picked the coffee bean with my own hands for hours upon hours on end,
Leaving nothing but sticky hands and a limp paycheck to help me continue on my way.
Where am I headed?
Only the sky knows the answer to that question.
I try my very best to listen to its whispers
And imitate its words with action
I try and follow the orders of the divine to the best of my ability
But I am human,
And with that fact, I am hindered by natural law
And so I sit quietly on this lazy sunshine afternoon, sipping my black coffee
Recalling the days of sticky hands and limp paychecks in the humid fields of fate
And laugh at the craziness of my existence.
When I was born, did I think that I'd be here today, recalling such things
And forever immortalizing them in word and symbol?
I can't recall.
Perhaps I did , but perhaps I didn't.
They say that you choose your family before your come into this world.
But did they also say that you’d pick your face and desires?
Did they say that you’d be exactly who you wanted to be?
I’m not too sure who “they” are, but I don’t really care
As I poured the coffee into this mug,
I also choose what I want to do, who I want to be, and just how I shall love the world
As a human, we’re born free
The mind creates whatever it wants to base its perspective on reality off of.
The lock of gravity to keep us from floating away
Even when you’ve had a drop or two of ol’ Sandoz, you’re still kept from flying from the world
Words can fly, though
At least spoken word.
The words carry a vibration, a soundwave, which continue throughout the cosmos for eternity,
Unless eternity doesn’t exist in this universe,
In which case, they shall bounce off the walls of Space and Time and ricochet back to their source
Oh holy game of Sound Tennis
Free us from thinking you don’t exist
When the game is being played, its easy to forget that its just a game
It is only a game
Sitting in the sunshine of afternoon daze,
Sipping away at coffee and dreams
Life seems more like a blessing of bizarre circumstance and genuine interest in formful comfort
As opposed to a game with no more of a meaning than to finish it and try win in the meantime
Something seems fishy
And it isn’t the cat or the caffeine
Its the bare existence of existence
Perhaps I’m dancing around in circles, getting nowhere
But is there actually anywhere to go?
Sure, I’d love to be on the beach in ninety degree weather in the Cayman Islands rather than the cold of This northeastern mountain range of poor old troubled Amerika
But such is life
Perhaps one day I’ll be back on the beaches, dreaming easy of nothing, for the dream has already been Fulfilled, oh what a dream
With a farm up the hill from the coast
With fresh gardens and fruit trees and cannabis and coconuts and a shack of humble gratitude
With rivers and fish and goats and chickens
With sunshine and warmth and light and forever blue skies
With a woman of love and peace and art and intellect and wisdom and smiles
With the quaint knowledge that everything is always alright, regardless of circumstance
With the security of not needing security
With the freedom to laugh without pausing out of courtesy to not wake the sleeping
With the ghastly beauty of not waiting in line to ride a roller-coaster, for the mind is more than enough
With twists and turns and self-inflicted burns
With the crazy catch of tomorrow while still being here today
With nothing less than paradise awaiting the caress of self’s heart
And the holy notion that there’s something even greater on the other side of this life
Om, tranquil being
Pour more coffee, must stay awake - no sleep in days
No sleep in weeks
How do those speedy speedsters do it?
I wouldn’t even want to try
I enjoy my dimethyltriptamine inspired voyages across unforeseen holographic landscapes of the Subconscious
Oh, I’m conscious of that
I wonder if it’d be possible to bring the totality of the subconscious mind to full conscious awareness
I suppose it wouldn’t be the subconscious anymore
And thus there would be no way to measure if it worked or not
I think it’s already working
Yep, it’s working,
At one-twenty-eight a.m. It’s working. From noon to night. Life is still life, and it’s all alright.
I cry at the fraility of mortality
I accept all must pass
Anything is possible at any time
Thus awareness is key
Unlock the door
Storm the houses
Take captive the machinery of maya
And take a match to the floors
Let the house of austerity go up in smoke
May the winds of Nature blow the cloud away from overhead
May the shadows be cast into the light
Hoy es hoy
Ayer ya paso
Y manana nunca muestran su
Asi que hoy es la vida
Hoy es todo
Hoy es el Cielo
Hoy es el infierno
Enviar mis saludos a los angeles caidos de antano
Que sus almas se ilumino con dulce alivio a la luz del sol de oro de ser eterno
La manana del Cielo
Se realizo hoy en la Tierra
That sweet release comes but once a lifetime
And once it comes, the revelation
Cannot be shared with others -
Each body, each soul
Must experience it for themselves...
And at that moment, all shall be known
But until then, we must make comfort and peace our objectives
Enjoy the ride
so darling, sit under this tree
that protected you from the pelting stones
grey skies looming overhead
they can't scare you
you have emerald knights
wish for them to stop you
in the name of needing some thrill
you know the rope wasn't a swing
i see you dug a hole
a void to throw all these memories away
in the shadows of this tree
secrets shall be kept
and as dark clouds loomed by,
branches desperately flailed
keeping out the acids in vain
the waters wrapped itself around you
why were you smiling?
you weren't the memory meant to be thrown away.
Baby girl you keep makin an effort, but no one makes an effort on you.
Maybe you should just keep to yourself and follow through,
On every little promise you made to your mother, and father, your brother and sisters.
I’m sorry but he won’t be coming to save you.
And I know how scary it is.
And I’m sorry. I want it so that every one of those little cuts and scratches are kissed away.
Better yet. Let me tell you how infinitely precious you are to Our Father.
And how as true as the day is long,
And as pure as the night is dark,
You are lovely.
And this too shall pass.
Funny the things we recall.
Images that flash through our brain.
Some most vivid for me were of an old man.
Skin like creased parchment paper,
Lined and yellowed with age.
The veins visible just below the surface,
of a thin near transparent covering.
Liver spotted flecks of red,
Charted paths of years of toil,
Palms callused forever from a life time of labor.
Big fingers knotted and misshapen,
The two inch tip of one gone missing,
Saw taken, at age sixteen.
Looking at those old hands, one could hardly guess
That still there remained gentleness in their caress.
For an old dog, or a little grandson in need of some
Companionable affection or parental love.
Those aged hands could also make things,
Toy sailboats, and wooden trains,
complete with caboose.
A cool flute whistle that actually worked,
He said it was like the Indian’s used out Oklahoma way.
And he would know, he'd cowboyed there.
His hands taught me to tie my shoes,
Open and close my first pocket knife.
Those same hands could become birds,
rabbits, butterfly's, all sorts of things.
When projected up on the wall,
Silhouetted by a naked back light.
His hands knew magic too,
Could pick silver coins right out of my ears.
His tired face matched his hands,
visual weathered, creased and
wrinkled road maps,
Of 89 years of rugged life traveled.
Yet, his lively pale green eyes remained
forever fraudulently youthful prisms,
Eyes and spirit of a much younger man within.
But it is his hands most of all I shall remember,
Their imposing look and their reassuring
touch of tenderness.
I shall never forget my Grandfather’s hands.