My incoherent rantings upon this white,
tainted by my virulent thoughts expelling out.
I leap at echoes of what may have been cognitively
expelled but never given true form.

"I just lingered my mind in the air like a net catching
stray speculations that were never musing,

I never understood why infuriated wording
was not given form, why I lingered outside my
window like a peeping tom. Waiting for those
Drifting inconsolable lost thoughts never given form.

Some were so sullen a tear would edge closer to
my yearning of falling but then I'd catch and devour
it. Swallowing that sorrow to feel that pain needed
to ink better vocabulary then I had penned before.

"I hear things in the night, feverish dreams of inscribing,

I understand my conclusion of what I am spilling in
irrational contemplations, that wield meaning of
what should lucidly be realized within my words.
But my ink is waved upon as to complex in thought.

"I am a man with no water yet I am drowning,

Can I be enthusiastic in my wonderings of captured words,
expelled but never used. I hoard them within me, so others
may not take what I thought what I took from the breeze.
I think I'm cognitive, but others think I'm rabid in inducing.

I try to keep things simple
In my simple day to day
Simple in the way I walk
Simple in the things I say

I always try to think good
Good in everything I see
Good in everything I hear
The good in everybody

If I can keep this standard
Hold tight this philosophy
I am hoping all in life
Will go well for them and me

I try to love with all my heart
To keep rooted to the ground
I try my best to play every part
In what comes around goes around

As I try and keep it simple
Makes it all much easier to figure out
In what I go through, everything that I do
A complicated life doesn't go over so well

I've spent centuries
in this agony
My body changes
but time stays still

All this time I've passed
waiting to be found
like a bird inside a cage,
my feet chained to this ground

I can't keep my monsters at bay
but I can't run away

In the eye of each soul
all I see is fear
and my own still whispers
"I'm not from here"

By now I thought
I'd have more power
But at the end of each day
"it" still devours

Even though there's love in my heart
I still feel like falling apart

Each fight feels like
dark mirrors inside a maze
and all I see in this reflection
is my own empty gaze

My mind is light years
away from this place
Still the only thing that saves me
is your warm embrace

And when it feels like I have no choice
I recognize your voice

I'm so tired of this fight
But your love still keeps me warm
Together, we'll win this battle
Together, we'll breathe through the storm.

As I sit here all alone,
admiring the view of an early sunrise
I tilt my head back and close my eyes.
A soft gentle breeze crosses my face
I look around and enjoy the quietness of
God's peace and the soft gentle pace
The trees are in full bloom, the leaves ready to fall
God's beauty of earth, I admire it all.

( Sonnet )*

I look for Leo, his tawny dress,
His noble pride.  I see him ever,
In silent days his warmth his stride.  
Our friendship moved, grew a lease
With eyes sleepy, tempered, so wise,
Always serene.  How his waif voice
Would purrmurr, did chide and lift
Me from my human daze, my king
This spring is full of remembrances
And mornings that linger with mute
Vibrations and greetings.  How, now
I fear the carpets pressed unmoving
And times caress unsoothing.  I look
For you, with loving pause, and I cry.

Away from hills and away from mills,
Comes a child with no two eyes.
With its tiny hands blue and small mouth bled,
"There really can be no hope," they said.

It cries out loud, pulling at its rags
Carrying naught but stones and bones.
Throwing them with vigour (aiming at none!),
With its two eye sockets blind and dull.

But no people are there.

Naught but ghosts from antique towns
Resonating through the echoes of sand and crowns,
Shouting and laughing
Feeling not the stones,
Pretend to fall dead
As they chirp, chant, and dance.

~

As the memories distort,
A presence emanates from dust of broken mauls
Burying the ghosts in golden holes:
On beds of hard, cold, and mouldy bones
Whilst bestowing the child with eyes of ghost desert rose.