My soul sees and seers,
What I seldom do not want to hear;
She feels more than I ever do,
Of all those moments,
Which I wish were untrue!
And even then she stands strong,
Without a tear,
For she knows;
Wet eyes and weak sighs,
Only makes paths -
Slippery and treacherous!
My soul strengthens the physical me;
In every prayer she weaves,
A new thread of belief,
A wrap for a lifetime;
Soon shall be stitched...
Keeping us and our faith warm,
Even beyond eternity!
you insisted that i write my number down on the blank part of a mix tape...you used to slam down a beer like some kind of super hero...saw myself in your eyes and made sounds only you could hear...you'd press your lips into my forehead so fiercely it hurt; leading us deep into your distortions...
witnessed you spilling your soul into empty barrooms where last call came well before midnight...there wasn't any room in there for me...i made forfeit everything to stand in your arms; and how it lost me all i wanted...
spread my palms wide across your ribs...curled my fingers tightly toward your spine and believed, believed that you loved me...your dad was impressed that i went to Harvard, which pissed you off...so you left me...i wanted to clumsily strew myself on your pillows and press my hand on your thigh, kiss your neck and giggle at your sarcasm...you convinced me that the flood of my insecurities drove you away, that i was the author of our demise...
we collide rarely...your eyes are always tired...you've built the Berlin wall around your heart...you have become a testament to the passage of time because i know i will not remember being the same...you inappropriately love me but will never trust me...
you stand me in your arms, and it is like coming home after so many years abroad; we never will hold each other this way again...
our Rome became graffiti on my bedroom wall...an homage to a past, carried along the weary advancement of years...this undertow of wordshed always reminding me that i am not lost but i am not home...
That the way your golden waves fall
in the most effortless pattern is entrancing.
That you have a surprising beauty,
and the intensity
you have when you study something really
hard only enhances your features.
That in those times,
I only make funny faces at you
so it’s not weird that I’m looking.
I let you see the scary cobweb-filled
corners of my soul that night
we stayed up for hours, talking about things
strangers never talk
that you’re still the only one
I’ve admitted some of those things to.
That all I want to do is
impress you, that just once,
I want you to look at me the way you look at her, love
leaking out of every orifice. I said
I hated you and that we were never friends,
but I never told you that those six weeks
we didn’t talk caused me physical
pain; your silence was like acid, burning
a hole through my chest, devouring
everything in its path.
I told you the first time
I heard you sing how much I love
your voice, but I never told you the
power your words hold. That it really did hurt
when you forgot about me at Christmas. That
the selfish part of me wants you
to need me in your life as much as
I need you. That you have so many qualities
I wish I was strong enough
to possess. That I really do care
that she’s good enough
to drunkenly kiss, and so is
the boy who almost raped you,
but I’m still not.
That I might see you as more than a friend
I still can’t really tell myself.
26 combinations of arcs and dashes:
the foundation on which
we build meaning,
names created from nothing.
Generous swoops like cradles and pointed lines
that tango in a dangerous duet.
to not employ such a terribly powerful tool
is to diminish it, but this absence only hurts us more,
leaving the waiting soul as barren as the womb
of the mother-to-never-be.
An intangible monster whose strength
stems from paradox, lighter than
a butterfly’s kiss that crashes
down in volcanic eruption. A bomb
that can never be disarmed.
Love is no abstract thing defined by the constraints of the clock.
Gaining meaning with time.
Gaining power with days.
Gaining strength in years.
Love is no fashion trend or folly of the bored.
It is not cool.
It is not a hobby.
It is not a “just because.”
It is the soft whisper of breath that sends shivers down the spine;
Warmth to the soul.
It dances on skin
Like a child tiptoeing through a meadow.
It is the joy that accompanies the moments apart.
The feeling of peace.
The sudden grin.
The daydream of bliss.
Love should be measured in beautiful moments.
It hurts like the rain on a sunburn
But in my head
It hurts like a burn on the stove
But in my heart
It hurts like I've been caught in barbed wire
But in my soul
Riding boots, helmet, and garments of leather
All equipped to meet a safety need
Jump on and shout, “never say never!”
You embark with your loyal steed
You and your soul mate take a lofty stroll
Before charging at the speed of light!
So that you can minimize the harmful toll
And continue to glide across like a kite
Hurdles and other similar props
Can easily be defeated by the soaring jump
With riding tricks grasped, your horse could never stop
Until there is no more power left in its energy pump
Falling off sometimes seems inevitable
Especially when your horse sees the tasty blue
Your bond rhythm needs to be sustainable
So that your horse can follow on cue
Rider and horse share a deep connection
With the two in sync, you will win the next riding election
Player Player, I Played Your Game,
Once Again I Lay Limp And Lame,
With A Stepped On Heart,
Which Was Caught And Tamed,
Dry And Brittle--It Waits For Rain
Player Player, You Found Me Fooled,
Helpless I Slipped Under Your Rule,
My Firey Soul,
Was Darastically Cooled,
Why Oh Why Heart Do You Fall For The Tools?
Player Player, Do You Think I Am Easy,
Like A Warm Summer Day's Cool And Breezy,
Boy, I Really Ain't So Sleazy,
If Only You Tried To Find The Real Me
"Let's put a band together and make a million bucks."
With that statement, you changed billions of lives
You were a true friend of a tormented poet
The greatest bass player ever, who didn't play guitar
Two hands moving separately, one playing melody, the other rhythm
The leader and backbone of the poetic, soul rock band
The Door gently closed on Ray Manzarek
On May 20, 2013, nearly 40 years after Jim
"This is the End. My only friend, the end."
As the keyboard's melody drifts away
And the bass organ thunders on
"Riders on the Storm"
Like the moon calls the sea
I wish you to be with mea
we meet and part
each time a pain in my heart
Without you my eyes grow dull
and my muscles ache
you give me liveliness and soul
every morning leaving you is a mistake
Each night you seduce me with sweet nothings
Each night your embrace warms and soothes the stings
We don't talk to each other but travel to worlds surreal
Five senses for my heart and hands to feel
Every summer night we were between the seams
Showing each other's dreams
my love a fire, I'm ready to commit
burning red to orange and dull but to never quit
Tonight I want to sleep with none other