How can you medicate me
                     if you barely know me?

I don’t want to live by the sea
For where others see
Possible possibilities
I see
Impossibilities
  I want to live
By the tree
The tree outside my window
With the sky always
Perfectly
Molded behind it
And moving
Silently
  It is a possibility
For being still

It's cold.
Everything's distorted,
And I can't breathe.
I'm fighting,
Struggling to move,
Then it's freezing.
My eyes sting,
I gasp for breath,
But everything becomes crisp and clear.
The waterfall is pulling me in
As I drift around the pool of blue.
I'm moving closer and closer
Then I'm suddenly under.
It's all white and everything's moving so fast
I'm being crushed
And I'm so scared
I'm never going to escape
I can't breathe
I don't know what to do
Then it all stops.
I'm floating again.
Drifting along a cool cushion.
I can see,
I can breathe.
Everything's okay.

~~~
Not far it was from Heaven
'twas the very month of June
and the sweetest birds were singing
when first
she stole my tune ...

As if from out the bluest sky
an angel came to call

Quintessence of Irish memory
with braids as I recall

The golden sun's shine o'er the dew
reflected
through her eyes

Like flowers
from a woodland path
her smile just mesmerized

With dancer's wings she stepped along
my song held in her arms

My blue eyes dreaming
hypnotized
now locked within her charms

"Good day kind sir"
sweet melody
embraced my very soul

With butterflies and rubber thighs
my tongue
I swear it swoll

My heart stood tall
to brace my jaw
an lock the molars tight

The best I managed
was a smile
my voice had taken flight

Pausing
she locked her gaze to mine
reached out to my lapel

Placed a fragrant flower there
bent close
to share its smell

The moment
stole my breath from me

I gazed in pure delight

Enchanted with her beauty rare
awoke
to silent night
~~~

poetry isn't poetry anymore
it didn't always used to be about artifical ink on a screen
it was about the paper stained ink
the paper that makes you think
the blank page seen as a challenge to those who knew about storms
a blanket on the cold nights you thought you'd freeze to death
ink was a super power
now turned into a machine
automatic
artifical
when it used to be just art
memories that started with a pen
a treasure hunt
all through time square
times there were ink stains in the bathroom on the floor
bike riding in your mind leving a trail behind
but screens go treasure hunting for you
ink staind
be sane
report button when you don't filter who you are
i don't need to filter my blood stains
machins don't poetry for you