The aroma of those Lilacs,
will be green...
Its buds...
Your buds...
Among the white dress
they move;
your eyes...
Dead summer cherries...
Among your ears
So they have voice;
your eyes...
And your hands,
 A moment;
suspended
in time....
And how burning they will be this year
the whiteness of your hands,
In the absence of
white orange blossoms
in the garden
In the absence....

happy birthday Darcy  this time you are two
how the year past by how it really flew
best daughter in the world you will always be
for the rest of life your birthdays i will see

your my everything.  your my world to me
always there for you i will always be
happy birthday Darcy  may your dreams come true
on this special day that belongs to you

Soft warm waves rocking slowly against my calfs.
Soothing my pale and cracked lips, sweet and cool.
And where were you when I offered off sips
Of this magical liquid-
Where were you?
Were you sleeping in your bed
or
Were you resting in her head?
Does it matter?
I suppose not.

Harsh, icy waves stabbing my thighs. Neck. Head.
Choking my lungs, salting my lips, pulling me lower and lower still.
And where were you?
No chance to pull you down with me,
But you do what you gotta do-
Lips blue, eyes red.

You did, you left me for dead.
Where were you?

if wishes did come true i would wish for this

to have a life of peace filled with love and bliss

filled with happiness for all the world to share

every human race each and everywhere.



no more feud or fighting violence in the past

just a world of joy. freedom now at last.

life would be so perfect and would be so free

just a world of love like it supposed to be



this would be my wish for each and everyone

just a world so free and we could live as one.

Stronger than steel is that web of love
that between two people is spun
more refreshing than the gentlest of rains
and more warming than the sun

Calm, clear, or stormy
Gray, green or blue
the sea reflects
the feelings that lie
deep within me and you

there was a little centipede he had a big mishap
he had lost a leg the poor little chap
everywhere he went he always had a bump
he was one leg short he only had a stump

he saw his friend the beetle who knew what to do
i will make a new leg then you will feel brand new
beetle made a leg from a twig upon the ground
now he had a wooden leg and could get around

with his leg now fixed no longer had a stump
he was back to normal and walked without a bump

Crying
Curbing
Braking
Dry branches

passing storm
leaving silent
bending branches  
hitting darkness
in your windows

I can sing
I can cry

I can sing like the mother’s lullaby
and howl like the wolf in the full moon
I can shake up dreamers in the dark

I am
the wind

the crying
the braking
the singing
the barking

I am the fright
of dry branches

A field of vibrant, tall sunflowers.
Subtle rays of light filtering through the Autumn leaves.
Stalks of fallen hay, freshly harvested.
Ice clinking in a glass of tea on a hot summer’s day.
The gentle thrumming of guitar strings to a song I’ve yet to learn.
Shaunie’s laugh at even the smallest things; So vibrant and bold.
The SpongeBob ice creams from the ice cream truck on boiling days.
Biting into a sugar-coated lemon, the sour burst paired with lemony sweetness.
The lasting taste of a Sprite on my lips as I trace those old back roads.
Settling into the warm grass; Florida sun beating down on my skin.
The cool night’s air whirling against me as I ran home.
My cat’s fur as she curled up in the crook of my spine, the sun creeping through the window.
Yellow rejuvenates our souls, stirring up the old.

They broke my legs, i learnt to run with my hands
They took my hands,i learnt to fly
They broke my trust
I learnt to believe
I gave them love they gave me pain
I discovered that pain,
Is the fuel passion demands
They blind my eyes,i learnt vision
They blocked my ears,i learnt to think
They took my body,i engaged my soul
They gave me scars,i saw the stars
They left me broken
I evolved molten
They left me for dead
I learnt to survive
And now i can roar
As i soar
I am a survivor
And this is my tale