The green fields paint themselves over the brown roadside
and up the hills that meet the pale blue grey sky
as winter releases its last cold breath
and the ants march in triumphantly
from their tombs of slumber
to find a feast of crumbs fit for a queen
and it’s strange how royalty
is so often mistaken for nobility
as mankind claims to be both
but rarely shows signs of either
and isn’t it strange the things we see and hear in dreams
while our eyes are shut in a dark and silent room
and if we can hear without sound
and see without seeing
what is the point in believing in anything
that we see as real or true
and why give so much time and opportunity
to things born for nothing more than human misery
and so little time for matters of love and hope

if reality is the only thing at all
why do we bother to dream
why do we bother to love
what does cold hard concrete have to offer
the stars of heaven or the fires of hell
what is it that burns in the furnace of our blood
that makes the heart beat so fierce
through the good and the bad with or without our consent
what is it that makes the heart
feel heavy inside our chest in times of trouble and ache
and why does it seem so light when we feel our lives
are boundless and endlessly filled with love
is it simpler than we choice to believe
is it something as simple as acts of kindness
is the heart heavy only when it has nothing to offer its love to
nothing to care for
have we been living backwards towards the meaning of life
have we been so overly desperate to be loved
that we forgot or failed to realize
that the hearts true function is to give and give and give
is love too heavy to hold
is the heart only light when it flows like a river
uninterrupted by dams of human misconceptions
why do we breath under blue skies and sleep under pale moons
as the seasons pass and the ants march
mistaking  what it is to live by simple means
as water bends and curves over sharp rocks
and smooths the rough edges
forgiving what cuts its path to rivers and streams
and on and on the water flows
as should the love inside our hearts
endlessly and effortlessly by acts of kindness
to fill our lives with love and hope

I wanted to write you a poem... but at the same time I didn't... I wanted to talk to you... I rehearsed possible things to say and I got as far as "hello"... I tried one day and all I got out was a quite and low "hi"... I think thats what I said, I don't really remember...I was nervous and maybe didn't say anything at all... I'm really bad at this.... I don't know how I ended up so shy or why I am...

true story... my first girlfriend came into my work... all dressed up... walked up to me and said, "So, when are you going to ask me out?"... I was 21 at the time... I haven't gotten much braver since... I finally did ask someone out once... I was 43 at the time... it was a rush... she said no, had a boyfriend... but still... I did it... finally...but... old habits... I wanted to write you a poem. ..  the same way I wanted to talk to you... but I didn't...

His face was heavy and craked
with a lifetime of broken bedtime stories
between the painted brushstroke colors
trapped in the tears his eyes cradled
and sang to sleep everytime the moon
showed its thin silver crescent smile
she quoted Bob Ross before
she sat a barstool away from him
and a snort of a laugh escaped his mouth
and the minutes passed into hours
and the shots became doubles
and the empty barstool now swayed
and creaked under the weight of them both
and they laughed
until twelve minutes until three
when the bartender kicked them out
and they  got lost between the dim light
of a crescent moon
and a tangle of bed sheets
and soft pillows filled with flowers
that smelled like orchids dreaming
and she guided his hand between her ribs
and placed it over her heart and whisperd
its cold in here....
and he traced the outline of her pulse
with his fingertips
and left a trail of fire
beneath her bones
and he could hear voodoo beating
its drums in her blood
and he felt her smile split his ribs open
and her hands fondling his withered heart
and she spoke in foreign languages
of old tounges tied and knotted
in the arts of love
and the room grew dark
as the moon was swallowed
by clouds and witchcraft  
and his eyes bleed out their colors and tears
and he broke down sobbing
and she took him into her arms
and beneath the ocean of her eyes
where their tears swam together
with the salt of the sea
and the night was swallowed
by the sun breaking the horizon
and they both disappeared
into a song known only to mermaids

she is a dream wearing a black dress
with glints of starlight
escaping the surface of her skin
and her hair flows long
into the river of the night sky
and she carries the warmth of home
in the cool colors of her eyes

you’ll think off her every time
your favorite song comes on
all of them

she is the heart beat of every melody
the love whispered in every prayer
the name you will never know
and the name you will never forgot

a dream wearing a black dress
floating in the grace of starlight
along the river of night
the road to the flowers
that bloom in eternities hand
a warm heat beating
in a dream wearing a black dress

Tell me something worth knowing
tell me what does
your heart beat for
tell me stories of butterfly kisses
carrying love to the dark side
of the moon
tell me of oceans
that have no graveyards
of sunken ships or broken hearts
tell me of lips
that have spoken no lies
and kissed no truth
that tasted of poison
tell me the secrets hidden
in your blood and your bones
tell me how to find the road
that leads to the forever
my heart can call home