Seaside skies
Rich hues of blue,
Turned skies to seas
On which sea birds duel.

I move in soft swirls
and sharp currents,
Blanketing landscapes in
Silent torrents.
I am a burden and a beauty,
As pure as I am deadly.
I am blinding, captivating, demanding.
Demanding on all;
On tired backs that shovel my fall.

Failure as a wave;
It comes and it goes
Crashing upon oars
Of those brave souls
Who meet each turn with the struggle of before,
Growing ever closer to their goal

When the oars cease,
The waves do not heed
And still they fall with equal speed
Swelling beyond what can be imagined,
If the oarsman shies and dares not look at them
For Failure is a wave; a churn That must be met
with eyes uncluttered and heart full stretch.

I don't know what's to become of me,
I don't know if I'll have a people to call my own,
Or a place to call my home.
I don't know if I'll encounter success as it's agreed;
A definition by you or by me,
though I know I'll have my smile;
A peace of serenity,
Bordering on ecstasy,
That will make life worth its misery,
For self security,
Is surely the best remedy.

To sit on a porch is a wonderful thing,
An act of peace, wrapped in serenity.

The will-o-wisps past, rustling turning leaves,
A cadence of crickets, soothing melodies.

Good for the heart, even better for the soul,
Embracing that place, this moment as a whole.

The vow is mine,
Contingent upon our lifetime,
It is of me
Done for thee,
We;
Its soul link,
its sole hope for amity.

If we expect,
We aspire,
For that which expires,
Accomplishing little,
Save our desires.

Waiting for life
When is it due!?
Waiting for death,
Oh, how I've waited for you.

A virtual shift, into another reality,
One, of honest brutality,
Form, of raw actuality;

Nature and absurdity,
Cultivated, Insanity.

Shame arises, when shame is due.
It's conception formed, in me and you.
Without its check, you'll come to see,
that you probably lack,
Humility.

Friends as leaves, they pass one by.
Green to yellow, red to rye.
Hurt as it may, they'll pass you too.
Stuck not to your stem,
But only to their Why.

To sin is to be;
A simple fact,
of humanity,

But if we choose,
to ignore it's moral;
Engrossed by things, simply temporal,

We'll be without humility,
and all things found,
internally.

Eyes intercepted,
Linger some more.
Reveal the heart,
Of that one's whole.
Enchanting the viewer,
All the more.

David David wiggle about!
His only wish: to play and shout!
But little David must do his rounds,
And eat his apples by the pound!
For if he is to hop with glee;
He must keep up his therapy!

A glance; a chance
To see something more,
Dependent on eyes
Of I's that soar.
Free in flight, telling of soul,
Though most seem cast,
Upon sullen floors.