All I need
is to smoke a little ****
then climb out this window on my own
Cause when I fall far behind
the things in my mind
The length of my day day goes awry
As I bleed like a seed
from water thats freed
Can I call you to talk on the phone
So we can hunt like the lions
then dream with the bears
or I could hold you against me till dawn
I do blink when I think
bout how the river did shrink
And all the diamonds I've slipped through these hands
Though now I know that it's true
after stumbling near you
That the ice blue roses can grow
Nov 14, 2010
Nov 14, 2010 at 11:24 AM UTC
Let me find your lips
softly finding my way to your heart
Let me feel your pulse
still knowing tomorrow may not come
Let me internalize your scent
then drift inwards towards dream filled sleep
Let me go wanting more
more of you as you are in the light of day
Let me hope for more time here
to further understand who I am with you
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 5:50 PM UTC
I could love as the window sees the sun.
Open and Honest.
Simple and Pure.
Just open the door.
I could love as the hanging apple sees the moon.
Bright and Round.
Large and Swirling.
Just lift the curtain.
I could love as the angels sleep and dream.
Vast and Steady.
Hopeful and Engaged.
Just pour the wine.
I could love like the sail takes to wind.
Swift and Lean.
Powerful and Sharp.
Just share the time.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 2:22 PM UTC
In hope
of skies blue,
vast and undeterred
are drying tears-
collected by unseen smiles
In threats of frigid
but burning ground below
is repentance-
A repentance found both sooner and later
One heavy with pastures of green- but none ever greener
In ancient words
from gilded pages,
bound in leather
hope and need
Are no ripe answers for the raging revolution,
only variant notions
shifting from here to there- and back again
The method of the three,
is mystery
beyond compare-
Black like the dark hours
that hide
the light of the day
Now and then-
all that can be done,
is to follow-
on bloodied foot,
over barren land
The aim of the carpenter
and his dinner guests
is and always was
direction
Purpose from an old- but new compass
in which one chooses to follow, deny
or silently go in search of other lovers-
all of a lesser degree
At the table of offering-
is space for bended knee
and an odd but abstract desire
for service
Not to self-
but to those who surround,
and swim in the very sea
in which the struggle
it is to cross
At the heart of creation
are mountains
and sandy crystalline beaches,
then city roads
All leading to country lanes,
fields, rivers, lakes
and vague dreams
Alas though,
no discernible
or translucent choice prevails-
All that's left
is the true and meaningful will-
of the weary traveler
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
She evaluated,
assessed and condemned
the mind,
and slights of tongue
but never attempted
to glimpse
inside my heart
which always swelled and heaved.
Those early weekend mornings
spent alone
while they slept
and the sun climbed
broadly in the sky
were only safe because
of the proximity
of their souls,
her soul.
Maybe the outside
doesn't always reflect
what it can
or should
or doesn't show but feels
in vast measure
the way way a child feels
he's being carried.
Now idle winds blow
seething to be old
and free
of the minds own
burdensome choices
and rhetoric
about the ice
never again getting to melt.
Never being freed
to move from solid state
through flowability,
then wind its way
with out weight
down the road
toward yet another
chance at redemption.
Oct 9, 2010
Oct 9, 2010 at 3:45 AM UTC
That burn in the back of the throat isn't real.
It's an after effect. A side bar.
Psychosomatic. Problematic. Symptomatic.
Crippled in sentiment and misunderstanding.
Viscously bleeding from the mind in colors.
How lost to have gone and wandered there.
Clearly now in repose, there was no "them" to save at all.
Only him and his strangled mostly dying agreements with the sun.
That remain standing between the here and now in need of repair.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 8:05 PM UTC
To our mothers, sisters, fathers, brothers, cousins, friends and spouses that lost their lives that day, to those we didn't know at all who said goodbye to their people for the final time that day, to the hearts of those that mourned along side a grieving nation.
We have not forgotten you, we have not denied ourselves of you and your memory.
We love today because we once loved you, we live today because of the way we once lived with you, we sleep and dream at night hoping its of you.
After sleep, tomorrow, with the new but very old sun, we'll rise. We'll breathe and stretch and move forward- heads high and hearts full in your honor. May God watch over us all.
Sep 10, 2010
Sep 10, 2010 at 4:09 PM UTC
Good Lord I loved those old days.
They way that life it glowed.
West Virgina misty mountains-
a girl I used to know.
All the people I done roamed with.
oh the songs that we all sung.
In that subtle little accent-
the sunrise always young.
Thank you for your time Sir.
Pleasure to meetcha Ma'am.
Here's a kettle full of memories-
and a vessel to be manned.
As we ride across the channels.
All our demons strong in tow.
Its every tiny morsel-
that gives us strength to row.
Downward way past furthur.
Always fresh right on the mind.
Is the way the forest parted-
when we left it all behind.
Ah but never to be forsaken.
Somewhere on a shelf.
Is a little piece of all of you-
and a shadow of myself.
Holding a candle tightly.
Keeping up the pace.
An empty highway driving-
simply searching for some grace.
To keep up with ocean.
Then ride up with the wind.
Just to get up in the morning
find another place to swim.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 1:54 PM UTC
Swirling ledge
caught
Ebb and flow
must go
Wind waving
ride
here and there
true lie
Tune change
time
Live and die
unwind soft
Parody smile
luscious
Cut and paste
mortaly deep
Even style
portal
Laugh and cry
sleep wide
Long vail
absent
Push and pull
run left
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 5:36 AM UTC