Your shores lie within my clever reach

But still, my raft floats so far away

All the community in the world

Is never enough to patch a broken ship

Whose edges are lined in broken glass

And weeping of a festered wound

All that's left of me will be

A man who floats on indignant water

Held afloat on broken trees

With an off-key voice and wracking cough

Screaming old-fashioned melodies

Trouillot once said,
"We all serve as actors and narrators
That compose the truth of history"

Your 'now' is tomorrow's history,
Your decisions will echo and ripple,
Will you act a courageous scene?
And speak truth,
To cut through pools of lies?

Never let anyone silence you,
And that includes yourself

If I were to give,
But a single complimentary
Expression of appreciation,
To describe your rakish charm,
Crooked smile,
Thoughtful presence,
And belief in others,
It would be not of honeyed words,
Streaming forth to nurture
A supple vanity or growing ego,
I would not mention your dextrous
Use of complex lexicons,
Nor your stunning beauty,
As observed in glittering sunlight
Not even a mention
Of your soft kind eyes,
glowing with a gentle warmth

If I would be so inclined,
As to compliment you
As best I could,
I would have to lean upon
The 'G's of modern dictionary
And say you're pretty good

I wish, on days of blue, to dream of you, to dream of anything, as I am ****** into eternal sky, with jagged frost that nips, and winds that spiral, tumbling from endless, into a spiteful roar, and sounds of wicked winter, tearing clothes from aging flesh, to expose the beauty, the heartbreak, and the ageless tenacity, buried beneath our flesh, and burned into our souls.  I dream of falling into another...  To share and heal these scars.

16 axes sit along
A wall of stone and red
15 all had wooden handles,
But one had black instead
15 cut down wooden trees,
The other made wounds that bled
If only we could give respect,
We'd get to keep our heads.