walking down this unpaved path
the grass & soil beneath your feet
water from the sky's above
soak you with natures tears
you kneel down to plant your tree
along the road so gracefully
for every tree that we plant
will be along this unpaved path

You're like a speed bump
In the middle of a road
I want to continue going down.

One minute we're high and
The next you have me low.
I hold on to the times
In which you're kind
But sometimes, that's only
During the night.

I want to tell myself I could care less,
But the sad thing is I care most.
My constant frown is just me
Not wanting you to know
How down you make me.

I want to be the strong one,
I've always been the strong one,
But strong isn't constant hope
Over someone who's already
Told me no.

Strong isn't wanting someone
Who doesn't want to be wanted,
Or likes to be wanted but hides
In the mountains.

You're that cup of coffee I want
At noon,
And that cup of wine I want past two.

But I should run,
Because as much as I tell myself
You're not,
You're that speed bump
That makes me feel so high
But at the same time brings me to ask myself why?

The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind

The city sirens come undone
before the ocean spray
then down the hill to U.S. 1
and thus begins the day

The Pier receding to the South
Will Rogers to the North
Topanga is the turn we seek
as we are going forth

The starkness of the hills and pines
the rivulet below
as Westward the Pacific shines
beneath the morning glow

The twists and turns I still recall
though roads are better now
no unpaved sections left at all
nor farmland for a cow

No Austin Mini Union Jack
the landmarks too have changed
and I so lost since coming back
I almost feel deranged

The Health Food Store with hitching post
the horses canter past
the countryside I love the most
and visit now at last

But on Mulholland Highway there
surprises lie in wait
there’s razor wire on the fence
and horses at the gate

As giant dishes aiming deep
into a mountain wall
so Orwell’s promise do we keep
applying it to all

But I remember still the day
the hillside turned to fire
the way to turn had burned away
the sky was black with ire

And in a wide spot in the road
in reverence did we stand
a fox, a hare, my dog and I
all watched the burning land

Can nothing make us feel as small
as fire pure and cruel?
to know it as a cunning foe -
to know we’re naught but fuel

But through the smoke a fire truck
led us down on Kanan Dume
toward the cleaner seaward air
away from certain doom

And all at once the trial was o'er
for we had reached the sea
as once Carrillo had before
and now my dog and me

We pass the house of river stone
Moonshadow’s Restaurant
and even Tidepool Gallery
for years my favorite haunt

And back to Santa Monica
on PCH we drive
admiring still the beauty
yet more thankful we’re alive

The winding drive along the sea
I took so many times
to steal away from anarchy
to pacify my mind

daddy fractured our world,
titled it off it’s axis, sent it
careening out of control.
that was before the day
his own impairment
made him overcorrect,
****
the mercedes onto unpaved
shoulder, then back
across two lanes of traffic,
and over the double yellow
lines, head-on into traffic.
that was before the one-ton
truck sliced the passenger
side wide open. that was
before premature death, battered
bodies, and scars no plastic
surgeon could ever repair.
yes, that was before

What have I done?
I've unleashed Quincy Valero into The Big Bad City, upon Greenwich Village for the first time
The 177 express, round trip
To Port Authority
To the A train to Canal

We missed our stop
Had to walk from Soho to Washington Square Park
But along the way we saw artists and galleries
Head shops and street performers
Hobos and junkies

"We made it"
"We in this *****!"
Quincy said as we walked through the arches

We saw a multitude of creatures
An artist drawing floral murals with chalk
Meditating Buddhists
A cello player playing for a meal
A drummer drumming for money to get back home
A jazz band
A clarinet player
Writers scribbling down whatever came to mind

We saw beautiful women everywhere
"Look, my ten, your two"
Quincy said nodding to a **** brunette wearing a sundress walking by

We got coffee at The Third Rail coffee shop
We met lovey dovey couples and a girl poet sipping espresso

Treading down Bleaker to Sullivan to Macdougal to Huston
*** shops, leather and studs, ****** and flavored lubes
"This **** reminds me of Saw"
Quincy said with a laugh
"Too much for your threshold aye?"
I said nudging him

We passed a guy selling vinyl on the street
"How much for the Charlie Parker record?" I asked
He took the record out and inspected it
"Five bucks" he said
"How long you gonna be here, like till what time?" I asked
"Oh I don't live by time or numbers" he answered
"Time ain't your mast huh?" I laughed
"Nope, you cant spell T-I-M-E without M-E" he said
Quincy and I looked at eachother with a grin
"I'll be back, if I'm not here before you leave good luck in your ventures" I said as we walked away
"Thanks brother enjoy the day" he said smiling and waving

We ate to Papaya Hot dogs
Best in the city
Then to the pool hall

Now folks, it is common knowledge where I'm from the Quincy Valero is the local pool shark
He can break and sink three *****
He can jump over your ball and get his in
He can shoot behind his back with one hand

Playing with him is a guaranteed loss
But I never cared, I just like playing
We talked and laughed about all the stupid nonsense back at home
And planned our next move

We went to The Blue Note, the best jazz club in the city
The Dizzy Gillespie All Star Band was playing that night
But it was too expensive for both of us so we went on to St. Mark's place

More head shops
More *** shops
And book stores, clothing stores
Punk things in Search and Destroy, record stores
All that good stuff

It was getting late
Back to Bleaker to start drinking
First stop, a little pub
The bartender was a gorgeous blonde, sweet as could be
We ordered two beers
She seemed to be having trouble with the tap
"Sorry guys it's a little foamy, next rounds on me"
We were amazed by that because back home all the bartenders couldn't care less if we got a whole mug of foam
We clinked glasses and took that first cool icy sip
So nice on such a hot day

"Ya know dude, this is it this is perfect" Quincy said
"What you mean?" I asked
"Well this is a great time, I'm on vacation right now and were here exploring and relaxing and enjoying the moment, this moment" he said with his beer hovering over his mouth

Quincy always talked about "This"
This moment
This time
This feeling
This thing

"This" is that time when you're in the moment
That moment of complete and total encumbrance
When you're wrapped up in what you'r doing because you love it and you're happy
The moment you live for
The moment you want to last forever
This moment
This right here
Not then, not before or after
But right now, this
We lived our lives trying to to make this happen every second of everyday
Living it up

Quincy took me to Artichoke Pizza
And my God, it was immaculate
A nine in wide, nine inch long and half inch thick slice of heaven
It was a mixture of crunchy, gooey, savory goodness
I highly recommend it

Then back to the bars
Wicked *****'s
Triona's
Off The Wagon
The Bitter End
GMT
The Red Lion
Cafe Wha?
1849

Beer
Wine
***
Whiskey
Scotch on the rocks
Bourbon

Smoking electronic cigarettes down cobble stone roads
Passing hipsters, college students and tweakers
Locals and tourists
"Out of my way you tourist *******" I yelled frantically pushing my way passed them with Quincy trudging behind

You can always spot a tourist because they got their cameras, their ***** packs and their head looking up saying "ooo look at the building and that one!" taking snap shots in awe

We walked to The V-club
As we walked up to the entrance a little old lady in a wheel chair called out to us, "Are you two brothers?"
We laughed and said "no, were best friends and next door neighbors"
"Oh, well you too look very similar, very young" she said
"Yeah we're both twenty one" Quincy said
"You live around here?" I asked
"Right over there" she said pointing to the building across the street
She told us about how the building was falling apart and how all the law students got booted out leaving the little old lady and one other person living in the nine floor heap
"Back in the day there were river rats in their the sized of cats, but now we only have mice" she said
"I'm being moved though, whenever the land lords and the officials decided where" she added
She had some sort old senior citizen perk that allowed her to be taken care of
She then started to spit some of her poetry from thirty years ago, perfectly from memory
It was full of truth, insight and hope
We were floored by this wheelchair bound geriatric
She was a a retired barmaid, a poet, and an ex-lounge singer
Her name was Tracy Warren

The three of us walked into the V-club
I ordered a glass of Pinot Noir
And Quincy got a draft Brooklyn Lager
While pulling out a stool a spilled my wine all over the wooden table
"****" I said as everyone in the bar watched me put my face in my palms
I got paper towels and cleaned up my mess while the bartender leaned over to Quincy and said "If you don't tip me that will be your last drink ever in here"
"Okay" Quincy said as he walked over to me laughing at my expense
"If it was Burgundy I'd be in tears" I said with a half serious frown

I went to the bartender and apologized and asked sheepishly if I could possibly get a refill

"You spilled your wine?" he asked with sarcasm
"Yeah" I said
"And you want me to give you another?" he asked
"Well, I mean I don't know if that's okay or not that's why I'm asking" I said
"We don't, it isn't okay, you have to buy another one" he said with the most insulting tone I've ever heard
"Okay" I said with disdain

"**** this guy" Quincy and I both said
I left the remaining wine dripping off the table
Quincy ****** all over the bathroom
He finished his beer and we left without tipping that bearded-high and mighty- *******
We said goodbye to Tracy and she told us to enjoy every moment and to get home safely

We went to one more bar, had one more drink and headed home
But on the way to the train we got stopped by a ***
"Hey you give me money I know you got it" he yelled at Quincy
"Na man, hes broke trust me" I said to end the oncoming confrontation
"No yous lying i know it" he said
"Na, see those shoes? I got him those shoes, fifty five bucks" I told him
"Stop putting me on" he yelled
Then some white knight hipster wearing thick rimmed glasses and a green flannel stepped in and said "What's going on here? You picking on my friend?" While putting his arm around the *** mocking him and making trouble for us
"This ******* won't give me any money for my troubles" he told the hipster
"Come on man, give 'em something" he said to Quincy
"Dude, he has no money he spent all he had today" I said to the hipster and the ***
"He's a trust fund kid, he gets it from mommy and daddy" I said winking to Quincy
"Trust fund kid?!" the hipster said
"Trust fund kid!" said the ***
"TRUST FUND KID, TRUST FUND KID" screamed the hipster, the *** and myself laughing at Quincy making a scene
Then me and Quincy just walked away throwing our heads back howling at the full moon, drunk and exhausted heading for the subway  

The subway to Port Authority
Our legs, our feet and our ***** were killing us
We just wanted to sit

We could not for the life of us find our gate
We got misdirections from officers, other public transportation patrons
Thank God for this one janitor for pointing us in the right direction out of our wild goose chase
And ***** the guy who I asked "Hey man do you know where I can find the gate for the 177 express?"
And all I got was a blank indifferent stare
"WELL **** ME RIGHT?!" I yelled in his face

Finally we got on the line for our bus
We saw some weaselly looking guy cutting the line until he got booted to the back of the line
As he passed us we both looked at his and said "Weet, get meerkatted scumbag"
He had to wait for the next bus, whenever that was

The bus ride home felt like an eternity
But we made it
We had to walk down the unpaved dirt road to our street

We did it
We took on The Village
Sailed through the bars
Walked the streets
Met cool, hip people
Made memories
And now we have stories to tell

sometimes my parents will ask me
"are you really going down that road again"
with such disdain and bitterness
and it just makes me so angry
because they do not realize that depression
is not a road one chooses to go down
and it is not a road one can easily exit
it is an unpaved road riddled with cracks and potholes
with no street signs or stoplights to guide us safely home
and to accuse someone of willingly taking that road?
well, that is how some of us end up there in the first place
-

What scares me through this dark forest?

It is not the dark,
Nor the wet socks,
Nor the treacherous rocks in the way
Nor the rustling of grass unpaved
Nor the occasional shriek of an owl
Nor the cold, nor the starvation
Nor the bats and insects and crawling creatures
Nor the unknown beyond horrid imagination
Nor the screams of sorrow's victims
Nor the silence, or the sheer loneliness

The only fear is existing
Painfully drifting
Having nowhere to go
No journey to bleed for,
Having to watch the forest burn
As hollers of delight emerge from monstrous look-alikes,
Siblings turned beasts of false pretenses and heavy machinery

And the more it burns, the more colorful it gets,
The more join in, the louder it grows, they're having a blast!
Till the smoke touches every molecule in the air,
Till we all suffocate in a carbon monoxide high
Forever frozen in a grin of painful ecstasy,
And the forest turns to ashes, awaiting a kinder generation,
A kinder species, perhaps.

The car is speeding.
We can make it in three -
no, two and a half.

She’s laughing and swerving the car,
left and right,
our tires humming warning.

The passenger is holding the door handle,
not quite used to her driving
but already broken in that strange way.

She turns to me, a contorted comfort
glad to be along for the ride
and her neck strains as she thinks,
not wanting to lose sight of my eyes.

I tell her that i’m sad, and that nothing is right,
and her reply would linger in my head like the smell
sitting flatly on my thumb and index,
fixed in a gun.

*We’re artists, you know?
And maybe, on some absolute level,
we don’t want to be happy.

Unpaved

Think...Think...Think...
What can these hands do?
What can your eyes see from this view?

Planning won't do any good,
How long will you stay glued?
When the time is right?
How long...
How long...
How long will we have to wait?
When we have enough time?

Time is gold, many fail to apply
that today may be your last breath and die.

There is A LOT to regret,
There is also a lot of mistake to make.
But we can never hit reset,
Fade those thoughts that ache.

Stuck and wondering...
Who.. or What am I?
an Artist, whose passion will be its fuel
a Developer, whose purpose is to entertain

or will I be stuck wondering who am I..
Be distracted from these jobs as I find myself still
waiting...
thinking...
on this unpaved path

uneven, steps,
Smack against the unpaved road way,
Leaving the screaming house,
On that empty hill behind,
I sit down beside the dead deer,
We have so much incommon,
No family or friends,
We were left for dead,
We'll never open our eyes again and see the world,
As beautiful,
My finger tips carress the roughly fine fur against his jaw,
My lips meet his forehead,
A gentle goodnight kiss,
Dandelions & Black-eyed Susans,
I wrap and tangle evenly,
Madly, through his antlers,
My cheeks still flush with the escape,
My eye still bruised,
Wasn't a quick enough get away,
My emotions vast and empty,
Like this graveyard of a fields,
My hands grab the last flower,
Plucking it from the earth,
From its home,
No one was there to speak up for it,
Just like me,
I fell in love with nature,
I realized how cruel it really can be,
Just like them,
Just like me,
Just like you,

I will follow you
whereto you roam
I will follow you
all the way home
down the road
up the hill
along the river
by the mill
past the tin shed
that old shoe store
till I follow you
and go no more
to an open field
where a path unpaved
with stones unsealed
leads to your grave

I’m driving laps around
Urique’s unpaved streets
with Arnulfo, the world’s fastest
ultra-runner up front
Chugging tesguino disregarding
Young son, Mateas in the back
Handing us the 2 liter Coca-
Cola bottles, full of the mashy
corn brew.
The cholos are drinking
Tecate, mumbling under the palms
stalking the river, watching us
break down at ever lap.
Arnuflo heaves the truck
from behind, alone,
screaming and pushing.

I snap it into second gear
Mateas trembling,
and off we go. Arnulfo hopping in
smoking more cigarettes
passing the tesguino around shouting
Rapido! Poco a poco! Andale!

Rancherra bumps full blast, the
Eternal bumping,
beem, boom, up and down
Beem, boom, beem, boom
Tubas and brass echoing through all the adobe walls
meandering all the way
down the arroyo
to God know’s where.

The cholos challenge Arnulfo
to a race in their harsh stares
under flashy hats and shiny mustaches,
Ed Hardy models with sharp pointed
snake-skinned boots
Ayyeee, Arnulfo says, He won’t race
gainst Oscarine who they say
is the fastest young Chabochi
better than the elders
who used to chase down deer,
gently twisting their necks
after  tracking them to
an ending exhaustion.

Arnulfo tells them I can win
as Oscarine snorts more from the bag
they pass around from his pocket

Off we go twenty yards
Around the farthest tree
And I win because of
Arnulfo's ancient
assurance

Cabin in the wild wood

Along mossy unpaved paths of pine

Birds call from the canopies

Over the cobblestone fireplace

Stag head and moon faced clock

Harken toward the dawn’s heraldry.

Eventual hours chime for the lime light.

Dog waits by the door for the next hunt.

Peace at first,
Seems like hurt,
When you let go of thought you find out what your worth,

It could be through teaching,
It could be through preaching,
As long as to the sky you're continously reaching,

The allegory of the cave,
For those who are saved,
Could be a road well traveled or one unpaved,

If you choose to pray,
Or with conscious you play,
We can go and grow together to start a new day,

Once separation can cease,
And on common ground we meet,
The sun will shine brighter and we shall all know new peace.

The Road; it’s a *****, unpaved, rocky road indicating little life to where it leads. Some would say good, some would say ****. The Road; it scares some. It scares them so much they veer off into the blistering concrete jungles that bring dreary, useless cubicles that trap human life like the barbed wire fences of the concentration camps. This Road leads to adventure. It leads to reverberation, to new life, to energy that will run through your veins like the ***** fluids from a used needle of a ******. The Road is gray, even dead in some areas. The death, dark-like colors do not indicate what the Road leads to though. It leads to color. It leads to the organic. It leads to knowledge. It leads to forgiveness. The Road, as ***** as it may be, as rough as the ridges of the great Rockies, as old as the life of an underused Supreme Court Justice; despite these unending failures, there is hope, the hope of an ending. This hope brings us joy. It brings us happiness, clarity, peace, tranquility. The Road takes us to anew. It makes us anew. It breaks us from the old. The Road is where we belong. The Road is for us, by us, with us, but never against us.

Departures and Arrivals.
The dust hasn't yet settled on the torn up trail behind me.
Particles still linger in my hair, my teeth and in the air
around me like they own me.
I wonder, even though it seems like I've dearly departed, if it
will ever settle and  I don't necessarily expect it to because
maybe it has to sock it to me
so no sweet amnesia can shew away the memories of what it was
that got me here to this place of growing respect for all the
potholes and all the unpaved roads.

Driving in the dark tree monsters slide bye one after the other,
their silent dialogue giving me the shivers like so many other
things in the world do,
cold sweat running down my face as the  car rattles and  the
music stops and there's only the sound of dripping rain. Tears,
like rain aren't separate  from  sweat.
They're constanly recycling  and bleeding into one another like
night bleeds into day. I get that and I even love that because where
does hardship go if  not to tears?

Stuffing grief into the cracks of the bodymind is a recipe for sick. I get
that too. People may tell ya to take a pill, have a swig, do anything to
bully your discomfort away but you sense
and you know that you sense and only you can sense what it is you
have to do. So you keep on going because what has drinking  the
sweet numbing  Koolaide ever done for ya anyway?

And it's a relief to come out of the comatose to watch the rose-gold
sunrise coming up over your landscape as your gears shift on the
broken hill of this awakening;
laser sharp beams of light gutting the nonsense out of ya, your feet
touching down onto solid  ground  and you feeling shaky but all
aglow in your skin
and this departure is telling every cell in your body that you have arrived.
There will be other departures and other arrivals, other days and other
nights but for now,
in this moment you have arrived and you don't give a **** about and
you're almost grateful for the dust and the  particles and the freaky
and the the not so freaky  fallout hovering over ya like a halo

1/2020

That early morning ****** air tasted pure
birds began to rise singing.
The veil of the night lifted for a new dawn
a cockerel then crowed.
Fields still green trees standing unscathed
land yet unpaved!

Untouched by developers or planners curse
a tranquil reminder.
How the countryside was before the building
took natures beauty away
I remember that unblemished infinity gaze
through the natural haze!

With a clear surveillance of the distant landscape
creatures in their habitats.
Still undisturbed of man's advances in evidence
without his blundering hand.
When machines came to carve up hills and dales
lost forever lands and trails!

Lose respect of the environment sacrifice the future!

The Foureyed Poet.

The memory of you still exists in my mind,
three years, two girlfriends, and a thousand bottles later.
The way i look for your eyes in a crowd is unsettling,
searching each face as they walk by in their own quiet parallel universe,
unaware of the longing for the comfort of your soft voice and gentle touch.
I look for you because you still are the one,
the one who suffered with me without question and saved me when i was in need.
Salvation was in large supply.
Redemption was a certainly familiar entity.
The road to your heart was a unpaved trail through the wilderness of time and space.
Let it be the one i stay on till the end.

The road unpaved, waved winding red
high pines, unfettered buried feet, under needles strawed

Fragrance, piney, warmth of sap, bark bled
Lithia springs ring clear, a tumbled water song

Owl tree softly spoke
lily fawn so slept, caressed by mourning cloak

Sun begins to edge the hills
wings rise, flies the morning fog
Fritillaria bends the light, leaning into
daybreak's mantra song

our clothes are perfumed
in the after effects
of the cigarettes
you and he share
as we drive down
unpaved paths in Iowa

bits of ash
slip past your seatbelt
to build new nests
tangled gray birds
in my beard's brambles

the wind splutters its dying breaths
as a Jeep Cherokee kicks up
specters of dust
and i sit in the backseat
forgotten
while second-hand smoke
leaks out half-cracked windows
fleeing your presence

i envy the particles
liberated from the confines
of your cancerous lungs
slipping free and disappearing
into the mourning light
rising with a ruddy sun
behind anguished hillocks

Beauty decomposing,
Like Mozart unraveling;
A symphony from his grave,
She no longer would behave;
Slowly she rotted,
Her I's no longer dotted;
No more makeup,
Hair tied in a knot was her dressed up;
She stunk like a corpse,
Driven to the end of her ropes;
Because not even an overdose,
Would make her come alive a dead rose;
She'd been mistreated,
Her will to survive depleted;
She no longer held her composure,
Her life needed no closure;
She was broken down,
Wore on her face a constant frown;
No more a bright light,
This beauty caused fright;
From the inside out,
She was barren a drought;
No longer could she be saved,
All roads that led to her had been unpaved;
Beauty she was no more,
Just a long ago told fairy tale lore...
© okpoet

Hooded hitchhiker of haunted hours!

(Or haunted houses, as the mainstream would have me believe)
Somewhere between New Mexico and New York the tables must have turned - see, it's not you that's seeking a ride, but me

(If a ride is what the kids are calling such a sweet and final relief these days)

Life is indeed "a highway" but I missed the EXIT HERE when overcome with the sight of your dusty bone-dry thumb creeping out from underneath a solemn black bell
(And they said I slow down for nothing!)

My curiosity intensified when: I glimpsed you behind a hydroplaning semi, just north of the Missouri River: I was going left from the right lane and I shouted to you: "hop in!"

Your blatant denial leaves me wondering...
(do you feel as though you are above me?)
(are there Escalades in the underworld?)
(does a '98 Volvo wagon not convey the utmost message of doom and despair?)

To clarify things, please observe the billboard on your passenger side:

I AM RECKLESS, I AM LETHAL
I AM HALF-BLIND AND SPINNING OUT OF CONTROL
DOING 90 ON AN UNPAVED ROAD
FINGERS DUSTING STEERING WHEEL
TIRES DUSTING DITCHES

(Please keep all hands and feet inside the vehicle at all times - unless you'd rather not)

Oh, robed and rusty reaper!
My consensus is this:
- I will not seek you out, but
- I
- will
- not
- turn
- you
- down

(Our final joyride looms just outside my rearview mirrors and directly inside my stream of consciousness)

On these roads I walk,
unpaved and uneven,
I stumble on the pebbles at my feet.
Each one reminding me of my failures,
everything I’ve done wrong.
But You are the cane that holds me upright,
guiding me along the bumpy path.
You refuse to let my hand slip from the grip I struggle to maintain,
and help my legs reach where I’m supposed to be when they start feel heavier than stone,
I’m not a mistake when You are around,
and though I fall time and time again,
You let me lean on you,
and pull me back up again.
I can make it on this old and beat up road,
even if I’m bruised and worn.
Because You never abandon me.
Oh God, You never leave me stranded.
And Your love is overwhelming.

regional dissidence marked by ****** exchanges
tempered anger lends itself to psychotic episodes
and the children lay in gulley’s attempting to remain hidden –
shattered glass crashes onto unpaved streets
complete with ditches dug to expedite waste removal
as the filth of a nation runs freer than the citizenry –
enter technological gods bringing stories of prosperity
visions of democracy and unity begin to shape in the heart and minds
or so they tell themselves so sleep will find them –
battered emotions bubble to the surface of faces
pressed hard against stained glass doorways
fleeting images of food strewn tables and shoes un-holed
dance across impoverished and diseased brains
incapable of self-supporting, they line tourists spots
holding shabby signs and juggling rocks for pennies
brandished with the gentleman who claims slave freedom –
desert boarders separate families languishing for acknowledgement
true Americans generationally linked to the very soil
toil in agricultural hell as whites get fat
on the backs of today’s slave system  
immigrant workers bury loved ones on the edges of factory farms
saying Catholic prayers to a corporate god
most well known for being the root of child molestation –
cartel kingpins hire babies to mule ******
DEA agents load them into vans destined for the inner city
As the forever war against minorities takes yet another turn –

Walnut trees release spent leaves
Shower me in summertime past.
Miles of unpaved roads-
meandering.

Have you ever heard the silence of a tear
On an ocean’s restless wave
Or seen a soul steadily face his fears
To walk on roads unpaved

Did you ever feel the haze of someone’s pain
Inside your own heart too
Walked their path of dark and rain
Held it all inside of you

Could you ever dream another’s dream
Until that dream came true
Closed your eyes until it seemed
That dream belonged to you

If you can see, feel and know this fear
Hold inside all this and more
Then you can dream a silent tear
To rest on the ocean floor

Every night I think of things,
I see decisions made.
The paths unspoken and bridges burned,
futures laid to waste.

I stare at them and wonder,
where did things go wrong?
Still a lonely soul does wander,
as it walks its path alone.

I fear the path I see you walking,
because I see what could one day be.
The road you walk is unpaved and broken,
and all too familiar to me.

Things will begin to change,
small at first, but then it grows.
And your decisions now affect your world,
more than words can show.

Be careful of this road you walk,
be wary of each step you take.
Tread these waters carefully,
thin ice is inclined to break.

You’re stronger than you think you are,
but not as strong as you pretend to be.
But you don’t have to walk this path alone,
You can always look to me.

Know that if you should ever fall,
I will lift you to your feet.
And I will always care for you,
as long as this heart does beat.

I am not a superman,
or a hero by any means.
I’m may falter from time to time,
and sometimes tear at the seams.

But I will be there good or bad,
and I will always lend a hand.
If you need a shoulder to cry,
then, sweetheart, I’m your man.

But don’t be blind to this path you walk,
just open your eyes for me.
You’re never alone in these dark times,
on the blackened road I see.

Wandering on a road unpaved .
Alone and broken, against the wind I braved.
Lost was my passion for the journey ahead.
Heading I was to the land of the dead
Blind I was to color, as I was to love.
I prayed for someone to be sent from above.

It was then, with the east wind came eos.
A look at him, and I went in a state of chaos.
For he was a rose dearest to god.
At his gracefulness, the swans felt awed.
I looked at the land, barren and infertile,
There now blossomed an iris, unspoiled sterile.

Together, I knew, we would make a whole.
For in him I saw, a reflection of my soul.
And hence, He proposed to me to be my partner.
For the journey that lies ahead.
From there on our paths were one.
As we walked towards the rising sun.

the
secrets are happening over unpaved floors,
the summer goodbye, the lovers that were only fantasies in a leviathan envy -
that I pretended to be a melted oath
caught between thunder and rain,  but "I'm trying to get
myself together" because
I exist and you are a  
"outspoken
downtown whirlpool"
lost in the smoke from the hookah lounge next door,
being insightful about "our" butterfly effect
being better

- G

come take a walk with me
down the paved paths
where the flowers grow
show me that there is love
where two stick together
comradeship and friendship.

take my hand and lead me
through the unpaved paths
teach me to find a way
even when it isn't clear
and show me that it is right
to put your happiness first.

tell me you won't leave me
to face life on my own
i need you more than before
to teach me to love
I will hold on to you
and every lesson you bring
I love thee,I love you.

I am lion, hear me roar
I dare to be free of societal norms
I wish to travel the world and see myself in challenging situations
Unpredictable circumstances
Overwhelmed with obstacles and facing my fears by tackling them one at a time
Head on no hesitation no turning back no guide to lead me in the right direction
I wish to fall and pick myself back up again, even if it hurts sometimes
I yearn to learn from my mistakes, I dare to make big ones
I long to be uncomfortable
I want I need I must do and be and see what will become of me in the most uncomfortable surroundings
I wish to smell the air in different cities
To walk along new and old roads that my feet have never touched
Unpaved dirt paths cobble ****** streets grass at my feet
I want to soak in the soil and smell the earth as I pitch my tent in the wild
I am looking for something bigger than myself
Something outside the realm of comfort to test my ability to take risks
to be spontaneous to be resourceful to find myself again and again
to be free
to be wild
to live with no regrets and go and DO exactly what I want to
to listen to the song in my heart and the beat of my drum to
to really see people for the first time
not just look but really see them, see their souls, hear their stories, share our wanderlust in our togetherness, to feel the authenticity of sharing the same thoughts
share our experiences and our joys as we embark on new journeys every single day
to fall in love with strangers to jump off the cliffs to search out what it means to really be alone
aloneness – to find out what it takes to be fully happy being alone, not lonely, but alone
to give as much as I can give of myself, my creativity, my endurance, my pain, to let go
to try hard, to work hard, to make a difference
to be seen
to be heard, to be one with nature and to live with such lightness that I soar above all possibilities, to fly free as the birds
I want to be exactly who I am and more
I want to find out what I can do when I am out of my element
Out of my comfort zone
What will become of me when I no longer have the safety net of home around me?
I need this. For myself. To prove to myself I am bigger than a passive pawn in the twisted game of this American life
I will conquer
I will triumph
I will live up to my fullest potential
and I will surprise myself
I will never be fully happy until I do this.

I will take off my red shoes
dance through the streets
and unpaved avenues
of seduction and retreat

I will shake loose the wool
my skin bare to the frost
feel the rising swells
with the time that I've lost

I will feed my clothes to the fire
singe every fiber and strand
reduce the pictures and discs
to grains of polluted sand

I will unhinge the jewels
hanging dead on my skin
instead reaching deeper
to the one curled within

          I spill the bottle next to the bed
          pour capsulated white fortunes
          into the cup of my hand

          I open the bottle from last year in March
          fill a glass to the top and toast
          to the time that I've lost

I've flown through infinity
like wildfire through Hell
watched pieces of the past
sink as shattered shells

I've found peace and place
and forgot all the rest
held the soft hand of death
my final mortal test