The innocent are dying
  and everyone is crying
  how its all so **** tragic
  and everyone screams for vengeance
And we're all so distracted
  that no one seems  to notice
  the gun with the missing bullets
  is gripped by our own hand
Monsters hiding in plain sight
Uncles, neighbors, aunts, fathers,
  mothers
Chopping children into little bits
  or drowning them one by one
Discarded with the trash
Treated like a festering rash
Lives lost and childhoods destroyed
Taken away by those we trusted
  to love and protect them
In a dark room filled with lonely
  toys
In the silence I can still hear the
  laughter and lullabies

Free from fears
Of life and death
Tearful flowers
Weep in joy
An oasis springs
Within every essence
Of my soul
And peacful waters flow
As these words
Travel from within
My deepest depths
And sooth throat
And burn as they
Pass my lips
*I Love You

I never thought that I would find myself
  here...
I never imagined I could feel this way
  again...
I was thinking as the years have past me by
That the only love I had left to share
Was for my one and only little guy
I had convinced myself
No one could compete or get near
  or take a residence in my heart
No time for crushes or falling and I would
  certainly never be lost and in love
No...
I love my little one
So completely
So fully
Theres no room for anyone else...
That's what I had been thinking my life
  had become
A beautiful life with a beautiful son
Nothing else needed
Nothing left to find
...
And then a single picture
Caused a domino effect
And somehow I'm...
I'm falling and dreaming
  and weightless and lost
And madly and impossibly
  and blindly and completely
And I'm over my head and
  I'm all out of breath  
And my skin, my blood, my bones
  my monster
Their all dancing and singing and
  shouting and dreaming
And dreaming and dreaming
  of you
And I'm lost in this place and this feeling
  I thought I could never find again

I walked outside
And the moon was
Smiling in the sky
And I think
I know why
It must have seen you
And those
Endless ocean eyes

Let me tell you a story about the last time my ex (my sons mother) was in my house... she saw some shot glasses on my counter and made a snide remark about how she was glad I replaced her as my drinking partner... now I use to drink and drink hard and heavy and I drank many of nights as it was going to be my last on gods green earth, but that was a lifetime (of good times and good friends) ago.  I still drink on rare occasions and maybe a little much on the right occasion even... but its rare and infrequent.  Those days and nights have been replaced by something much more valuable and enjoyable and thats time being a father and it is a blessed and beautiful privilege to be one.  But back to the snide remark... I didn't bother to mention that I used the shoot glasses to clean my brushes as I paint now, it was childish I admit, to enjoy the fact that for whatever reason the idea bothered her.  That even though she choose to leave, that she choose putting someone elses **** in her mouth over keeping our family together, that she choose cheating and lying and betrayal over keeping her promises... that the idea I might have moved on was upsetting to her... And let me mention this was about after the 6th or 7th chance I gave her and forgave her for everything she had done and repeated time and time again.  And years later... maybe its still childish but I smile a little every time I paint.

I know I should keep
these feeling buried
until I am in my grave
I know there are some things
I just shouldn’t say
but I can’t help but wonder
what it would be like
to hold you through out the night
until the morning bird has come out
and sung his song
after the moon has watched me
strip you one by one
of all your clothes
and dropped them
as we stumble down the hall
on the way to your bedroom door
count each step sin by sin

and I know...

and I know...

these are things I just shouldn’t say
but these are the things
burning in my blood
that are going to haunt me
long after I am in my grave
a regret of either what I did
or what  I didn’t say
it’s going to burn me either way
so what should I do here
should I not be here at all
either night or day

and i know...

and I know...

this is a thirst for what I cannot drink
a first kiss that will never be
this hunger for what you cannot give
a warm body of comfort
throughout this long cold life
that gets shorter
the longer I hold my breath
and I’m drowning in my heart
as it is turning blue

and I know...

and I know...

I am just wishing on a distant star
from another life
when I was younger
when if you had been there
it wouldn’t be impossible
for you to be
the only thing my heart
would need to breath
you could have been
all the blood in my lungs
you could have been my one
and only love
but fate wasn’t a star I could reach
and pluck from the sky
in my life from another time

and I know...

and I know...

I know I should keep
these feeling buried
until I am in my grave
I know these are things
I just shouldn’t say
I know I am going
to regret them either way
stuck in my throat
or falling from my mouth
you can’t be the only thing
my heart needs to breath
you can’t be all the blood
filling up my lungs

and I know...

and I know...

I am haunted by
all of these feelings
that will follow me to my grave
no matter what I do or say
what should I do here
should I not be here at all
either night or day
what should I do here

The sun wept marigold tears
  and we were too busy
   in the toil of our own grief

     to notice

     to pause

     to ask her why

nor did we bother
  to pay attention
   to the splitting seam
    in the sky
or how all the colors
  bleed that day

but Death in all her gentleness

   paused

sat quietly with the sun
  gently wiped the tears
   from her cheek
    held her hand
and waited while the sun
  mourned what needed
    to be mourned

then Death pulled a thread
  from the fabric of her robe
   and stitched the tearing seam
    in the sky

and then with all
  the bleeding colors
    painted a long overdue sunset
     on the never ending horizon

Indulge in love
Relish in lust
As one gives
Flame
The other gives
Fire
Be gentle
Be strong
Be kind
Be passion
Inhale
Exhale
Hold your breath
Give into your death
Lust after love
Love after lust
Kiss the heart
Of your lover
Love the skin
Of their kiss
Know the secrets
Of sin below
Stars and sheets
Whisper them between
Ear and thigh
Come to the bottom
Only after
Climbing over the top
Give always more
Than you take
Backs should arche
But never break
Share the music
Of your pulse
And the shadows
Of your marrow
Swim in the dark
Be blinded by light
Sin for love
Pray for lust

Violence waits in the cold barrel of a gun
foaming at the mouth
waiting to erupt in a flash of anger
to pierce the unexpecting rhythm
of a heartbeat

too young to know
any of the languages of death
that will soon be spelled out
in the blood flowing from the holes
that bullets will bite out of its flesh

someone’s child smile will fade
as a mothers tears
will water a garden of grief
whose flowers will never go out of bloom

and in the silence of our complicity
we will pretend there is nothing we can do
but wait for the metal of the barrel to cool
as the violence continues to grow
as we quietly wait for the next eruption

Why burn to ashes
  if not to raise up
Stronger in the
  Heartbeat of love
Why be consumed
  by the flame
If not to spread
  the purity
Of the perfection
  of desire
Why find perfection
  of beauty
If not to fix
  the faults of
Our hearts

January rolls in over the mountain side
bringing cold brisk air and frost
to scatter among the morning dew
no dragons can be found
among the empty trees
gone away
with no leaves to hide behind
there is no trace of scale
or tooth or tail

some crawl underground
to hibernate among the molten rocks
until the coming spring

others fly away
behind the stretched out clouds
in search of warmer breeze

those that like to swim
join the tortoise and the whale
and sink into the ocean and the sea

those in need of greater heat
and wide and open land
slink off in search of dessert sands

and perhaps there are a few
that fly off to recharge their breath
with the flame and fire of the sun

and there is a rumor among the stars
that a few sneak off to the moon
to run about and play
where it is midnight
every hour and minute of the day

there is a secret here
a story known to ever leaf
to every bloom
from the youngest sapling
to the oldest branch

there is a dragon for every tree
and every tree a dragon

and no better place for them
to live and hide
than where no matter
how hard we may try
we will find no trace of scale
or tooth or tail
beneath the camouflage
of spring to autumns leaves

If you want me
Just tell me that you
Love me
No need for complications
No poisoned cupid arrow
Heavens promise
Glistens on your lips
You can steal my heart
Without a single kiss
Just a gentle smile
And little whisper
In my ear
Dancing on earth
With hell and heaven
Caught between us
No need for prayer
Or redemption
Hand in hand
Waltz below the moon
Write our names
On every star
You can have all the dreams
Flowing  in my blood
If you want
My mouth to tremble
While yearning for your kiss
Just show me
That you need me
By softly spoken words
That will forever
Blaze in the
Center of my heart
Leave your name
Tattooed to
My souls flame
Then my servitude
Will be yours
When you tell me that
You love me

how do we become so alone

so distant

that we only appreciate love
as a tragedy in a play
a death in a poem
the ghost of a lover

who stole

then betrayed our heart

and even through the pain
of their crimes against us
we still miss their lips
and their breath
and their lies of love

what is so warm
about the comfort of solitude
that we forget
how to feel lonely

in our bones
in our blood
in our hearts

that we no longer lust
for companions
for friends
for any kind of desperation

were has the misery gone
were did we misplace
the fire and the rage
the want of need
the need to be needed

how far can we go
how much distance will it take
until we remember
that love is more

than tragedy and death
more than a tool
of the playwright
and metaphor for the poet

that it is not only the memory
of ghosts who no longer
need our needing

that we need not be so alone

so distance from love
that we forgot to feel lonely

in our bones
in our blood
in our hearts

and if nothing else
we can always be
alone together
so we never forget
to appreciate
the beauty of love

In time death will come
to reap the life
you have sown
and when you see
the harvest she lays
at your feet
will you rejoice to see
an abundance of fruit
or will you be forced
to see a garden
that long ago
rotted on the vine

My heart overflows with pain and wonder and the beauty of remorse and the remorse of beauty and wouldn't it be nice if we could just as easily rearrange our memories so that the lives we have lived could be the lives we want to live and I've fallen in love over and over again and it seems maybe unfair to have experienced so much in one life that hasn't seen its end and I worry less about the next time or if there will ever be another such time as much as I worry that there maybe a time that won't be better than the last and whose mouth will haunt my dreams as the kiss I can't forget  and I can only hope that it will be the same pair of lips that gave me my last first kiss right after I fell off the edge of eternity and plummeted madly into love for the last time that felt like the first time I found myself in the pain and wonder of the beauty of a forever without the fear of remorse of a life a had only dreamt I could live

He turned the idea over
and then turned it over again
examining it from odd angles
twisting it this way
stretching it that way
and came to the conclusion
that the only way out
the only thing he could do
was to lie

Not a clever lie
nothing that would be believable
no, it had to be
obvious
obnoxious
and obscenely so

He imagined her reading it
and smiling
and laughing
and knowing the truth
he had meant to hide inside of it
but had somehow
accidentally made perfectly clear

She would then
touch his shoulder gently
her smile still warm on her lips
and she would whisper
her own lie into his ear
and her own truth
would playful dance in her eyes

They would sit through
an awkward moment of silence
and then suddenly burst
out into a spontaneous gush
of embarrassing laughter

He would snort
and run out of breath
and she would cover her mouth
trying not to laugh harder
but fail miserably
and fall over laughing louder
and more rabidly than before

The laughter would turn to giggles
then turn to smiles
then turn to shy looks
and then small sighs

This moment would
be stolen by eternity
and crafted into a small jewel
and then broken in half
and then each half
would be embedded
into each of their hearts

He wouldn’t remember
how it had happened
but he would be holding her hand
while all this happened
and she would be looking
at all the past
and pain
and loss
and love
he kept hidden between the colors
and the pupils of his eyes

He would try to look away
try to keep some
of those secrets to himself
but he would be frozen there
trapped by the stopping of time
as helpless as a fresh born infant
and as giddy as a school boys first crush

She would read it all
she would understand it all
she would be grateful
for the intimacy
of knowing these things
and she would treat
this knowledge with grace and respect

The silent moment would return
but the awkwardness would not be there
they would both hear
the cracking of a fireplace
that was not there
but still
somehow warmed the room

A greater truth would be
waiting patiently on her lips
inviting him to taste
its sweetness with his own

They would both lean in
at the same time...

Then

“****!”

she disappeared
and he suddenly remembered
that she wasn’t real
that she didn’t exist
that she was the imagined creation
of his wandering heart
someone for him to write
fictional love poems to
A distraction from any real person
who he might grow affectionate towards

He wrote down the lie
and crossed it out
and then wrote down another lie

He read it
and re-read it
tried to imagine her laughter again
but she didn’t laugh
so he crossed it out
and tried again

Another lie
and then another
scribbled and scratched
typed and edited
rewrote and deleted
then rearranged in his head
and written down one more time

She laughed so hard this time
he was afraid she might be taken away
mistaken for a madwoman
and he almost crossed it out again

But her laughter was perfect
with a pinch of a cackle
a douse of innocence
a shake of honesty
and for good measure

a sprinkle of love

He dotted the “i’s”
and crossed the “‘t’s”
and smiled

It was a good lie
maybe not his best
but his own heart was fooled
and it was happy
and that seemed good enough

He put his pen down
and closed his sketch pad
he stood up and stretched
the smile was still there
and he could still hear her laughter

but in the corner of his lips
there was an almost
unnoticeable sadness
a lingering loneliness

Something he would
never admit to tasting
to knowing was there

He walked into the bathroom
ready to shower away
the aches and pains
of his slowly aging bones

he paused in front
of his reflection in the mirror
and for a brief moment
thought he saw himself
flicker in and out of existence

A brief moment of both
panic and joy swept over him
as he wondered if
he was possibly
the character that didn’t exist

that he was nothing more
than a fevered dream
of a lonely and desperate heart

Wouldn’t that be funny he thought
as he stripped himself bare
and then stepped into the bath
and pulled the curtain close

He laughed a good laugh
an honest laugh
a laugh laced
with the magic of snow
and the innocence of children
and then melted
under the steam and hot water
and slipped down the drain
and was never seen
or heard from again

she walked into the coffee bar
and was greeted
by the usual smiles
from the usual faces
and the usual hands
crafted her usual drink
to its usual perfection

casual warm smiles
were exchanged
along with the payment
for for the beverage
and service provided
both sweet and friendly

she walked to the corner
in the back
her favorite spot  
not overly bright in the day
and not under lit in the evening

she slouched back
into the booth
and found the
comfortable crooked curve
she liked in her spine
sipped the swan
off the top of her latte
and opened her sketch pad

her pen slowly twirled
in her hand
dancing between her fingers
pausing to

  tap-pa

    tap-pa
    
      tap-pa

on the fresh blank page

she thought of what he would say
her lips scrunched up
and raised slightly
towards her right cheek
while her pen continued
to tap dance on the page
and pirouette perfectly
on the tippy tip of her fingers

maybe he would make a joke

no...

he would be too nervous
he was after all
shy and timid
her mirrored reflection
in almost all accounts

perhaps small talk
something about the recent
peculiar habits of the weather
or maybe the terrible new muffins
that with great deception
looked so wonderfully yummy
behind the glass counter display

no...

they were both
too fond of silence
to break it over things
that were so trivial

no matter what he said
he would be nervous
and would try and fail
to hide this fact
behind his ever present
awkward smile

she knew what he wanted to say
that she wanted to hear him say it
but that it couldn’t just be said

not straight out

they were words too big
to pass through his throat
words too loud for her ears

words that could wait
words that could be said
without being spoken aloud
and still be heard

he had to say something though
awkward silence
though a specialty
they both excelled at
had both its place
and limited charm
and this was not its time
or place to be charming

she clicked the back of the pen
and placed the ball on the page
and started to make
lines and curves
some smooth
some jagged
a rhythm of uncertainty
from her moving hand and wrist

she imagined the sound
of his voice
and started to sculpt
and mold it into words
they floated there in her mind
juggled themselves
between past and present
metaphors and prose
truth and...

she smiled as she figured it out

he would tell her a lie

a harmless mess
of obvious mischief
not meant to fool
or mislead

but to entertain
and to humor
to hide
the much heavier truth
in plain sight

a small but loud giggle
and snort escaped her
and she shrank down
a little in her corner

she composed herself
sat up just a little bit straighter  
and then she began to write....

repost apr 2016
I've never been good with
Women or girls
Never brave, never able to speak
Mumble was the best I could do
And I did that too quitely
And too often
No... never good
Lucky enough though I guess
With the wild ones
The ones that didn't play chase
Or damsel in distress
The ones that wandered the night
Hungry for life and pain
The ones able to see me hiding
And mumbling to myself
Being shy in the corner
The ones that weren't afraid to strike first
They bought me drinks until I was drunk enough to forgot who I was
Or that I was shy
They lite the matches and the cigarettes and the fires and the madness
Took me back to their homes smiling
I was always too innocent and naive to know why
Until I woke up naked beside them in the middle of the night
And we would do it again
And in the morning too
Sometimes I got lucky for months
Sometimes years
And sometimes I got lucky
And fell in love
Thank the gods for the crazy ones
The stark mad lunatics
Crazy for the beautiful pain of being alive
I never would have known love without them
Would never find it again if they weren't still out there
Dancing in their darkness with their demons and heartache
No I've never been good with women or girls
But I've been lucky more times than one man deserves in a lifetime...
Still, it would be nice to fall madly in love one last time
Just one last first kiss from lips burning with the madness of love
Just one last time...

I throw a coin in a wishing fountain
I did
And this is what I wished for
To die, just die in this moment
This beautiful moment
Madly in love with you
Never more perfect could
Any moment be
Never
So let me die here
Looking into the endless ocean
Into those iridescent eyes
Mad with wonder and magic
My soul wildly on fire
Dancing with your heart
And your words
And your kindness
And your dark
And demons
Loving it all madly
No choice in the matter
Fate or chance
Or dumb luck
Meeting you was all it took
I fell hard and quick
And it had never
Been so ****** terrifying
Or so horribly exhilarating
Just hearing your voice
Reading your words
Your pains
Your hopes
Your fears
Your darkness
Your dreams
Wilted on the vine
Or raising from their grave
Day by day
Laughing or crying
No one is safe
From the clouds
But you shine through it all
You don't always see that
If for any reason though
It is because beauty reflects
Off of you
And mirrors rarely get the chance
To stand in front of themselves
That's what you are
The mirror of everything
Beautiful in this miserable world
Without you
None of us would have any beauty
I wanted to fall madly in love
One last miserable time
In this life
And I have
Oh I have...
So incredibly so
So beautifully so
Such mad mad crazy beautiful love
Just let me die in this dream
Let me die in your arms
Love was never supposed to
Be this perfect
This lovely
Not for me
So **** me
Right in this moment
Before I mess it all up
And say something foolish
Like....
i love...


https://youtu.be/n-cD4oLk_D0

I never met him so I was never fortunate enough to call him a friend. I never got to shake his hand or tell him thank you. He was one of my childhood favorites on TV and in my teens he's stand up comedy made me laugh so much it hurt and from my young adult life until now his talent and spirit have greatly improved the quality of my life... And now he is gone. It doesn't make sense. He was bigger than life in so many different ways, it's hard to believe he wasn't immortal, that he was only human, that he had a human heart, a heart that was as fragile and breakable as any other heart in the world. And now this world is a little darker now that his spark is gone. We shake our heads in disbelief asking ourselves how and why and what kind of world can this happen in? What kind of world?... Take a honest look at the world, pull back to the bigger picture of what our world is and it all makes sense... Our world is falling apart, we are falling apart and it is madly insane to live and survive through this life without walking around with blinders on. He refused to wear blinders, he was always taking it all in and turning it all around into something we could laugh at, into something that made our lives not only bearable but joyful and wonderful. He cared a little too much, loved the world and all of us a little too much, and in doing so looked a little too closely at the world, saw all the cracks widening, saw all the seams ripping apart, saw us at our worst and saw everything we're doing to destroy ourselves. And it must have broke his heart, and I think and I hope somewhere in that darkness, somewhere in that last moment, he found himself lost in the sea of love he had for this world and he found himself aware, awake, and enlightened. And though he didn't set his body ablaze, I see his last act as the latest burning monk to give his own life, his own heart and his own love to warn us, to shake us and to try and wake us before it's too late and we have nothing left to wake to. So I now wish him a safe journey to whatever happens next and hope he doesn't have to endure another life in this world as it falls apart.

Some children will feel
There’s too many days in the school year
Some will think there isn’t enough
Some will be bored of the repetition and ease
Some will still be eager to learn
It is school
They are just kids
Learning slowly the mysteries of the day to day
Young people with little experience in life
As we once were
And in some way or another
Still are
We don’t have all the answers
In truth it’s all still a mystery
Despite our years of experience
And our piles of the day to day
And kids are just kids
As children have always been
As children should always
Be allowed to be
So let a few feel there’s too many days
Of study hall and home room and homework
Encourage them all to learn
And just as importantly
Encourage them just as much to laugh
Let them be bored of things that bore kids
Let them be children
Let them be kids
It is our privilege
It is our responsibility
To look after them
To keep them safe
To make sure they know
They are loved
But let no child at school
Have to think
Have to feel
Have to see
That there were too many guns
That there were too many bullets
That too much innocence blood was spilled
That the school year
Had too many deaths
Of too many friends
That lived too little
That were taken too soon
Because we failed to be responsible
That we took our privilege
As a community
As a world
For granted by turning a blind eye
And giving nothing but a moment of silence
And our thoughts and prayers
Without any action or resolve or steps
To make this last tragedy
The LAST tragedy
Any child had to live through
Had to survive
To witness bullets bought by greed
Bury the bodies of their classmates
If we watch this scene of tragedy
Play over and over again
And do nothing
NOTHING
To even try to stop the death of innocence
We ourselves in our complicity
Are just as much to blame
And just as guilty
As the hand that carried the gun
As the finger that pulled the trigger
As the politicians that took their bribes
The days of thinking it will never happen here
The days of the unthinkable being unthinkable
They are gone
They have been buried
With the bodies and the names
Of the children we have failed to save
The ones already gone today
And the ones that will be gone tomorrow
In the next senseless tragedy
Today is not soon enough
And tomorrow is always too late
Now is the time
And if not now
There will never be a day
We’re children are allowed to be kids
That don’t have to think
Don’t have to feel
Don’t have to see
That the school year
Had too many deaths

How am I suppose to read the warning signs
when I am emotionally illiterate
what I'm trying to say is
that I have never learned
how to deal well with heartache  

I know how it feels to have a weightless heart
when ever thing is measured by gold
my ribcage has a collection of nothing
but rusted pennies
sitting at the end of a bottomless dread

wishes that come true
sometimes have a way
of exploding like a dandelion

days of good intentions
can tumble unexpectedly
no matter how well
they are stacked together

the future is never certain
everything has an expiration date
wether it is printed in black ink
or a secret only the wind
and the leaves know  
it could be something as warm as death
or as cold as betrayal
or something far simpler
than we make it out to be

our own stupidity comes to mind
our careless behavior motivated by ego
and the ego does as much damage
when under inflated
as it does when it burst from its own pride

months and years of silence and solitude
has turned loneliness
into a comfortable home
a safe haven
free from the fear of things going wrong
a place I have no need to regret
the things never said
the people I never said those things to

and somewhere between memory and fantasy
things that once may have been
and things that never were
there is a strange place
that feels happy enough
what is love other than a feeling
a feeling of comfort
of warmth
of dreams
what makes it more or less real
if the heart is fooled
why not play the fool

something real imagined
imagining something real
if I whisper a name
I do not know in my sleep
or dream of kissing a name
I fear to speak
what would be the difference
when I wake in an empty bed
surround by the cool comfort of silence
if the feeling remains the same

maybe if I had read the warning sign
I would have known that
I don’t deal well with heartache

I saw a girl and I thought she was pretty
  and I wondered if she could be beautiful
But I never found out because I failed
  to say hello
Its just not my way so I'll never know

Always and never forever and ever
And where will I be when eternity takes its final breath
And love gives itself completely to death
Will there be any of my hearts dream left
Will I still feel as if I could fall endlessly
Will it still be your hand I yearn to hold
Could I finally find the courage
Could I finally speak...
Could I...
Always and never a cowards forever and ever

Be prepared to lose
When the odds are against you
One day you will win

We all live to the same heart beat
we all dance step by step
we may have our own tempos and rhythms
and some may leap
while others may roll
some prefer hardwood beneath their feet
and others sand or grass beneath their soles
but the blood is all the same
no matter if the pulse is quick or slow
we all started with a breath
and we’ll all end the same
and it won’t matter to the ground or the fire
if we had not but a penny in our pockets
or crowns upon our heads
death will kiss us all
and spread her mighty wings
and it may be paradise
or it may be something worse
or it may be simple oblivion
lights out
bye bye
and what does it matter
to worry about the then
when all we have is the now
what a waste it would be
not to live this life as if it’s our last
as if it’s our only
because too late will be too late
and what a tragedy it would be
to throw it all away
without living it for love
to love openly and kindly and generously
to love endlessly and foolishly
and completely
and if it isn’t love we’re living for
why would we dance at all
why would our hearts beat
if not to live a life of love

Her touch was
A dangerous addiction
Soft like silk
Able to trace out
My lust and sin
In wild exhilaration
Forcing grateful
Moans of anticipation
From below my heart
And gut
Skin forced to turn
To throbbing rock
Boiling and seeping
Life like lava
Collecting at the mouth of
Serpentine shaped pleasure place
Smoothed by fingertips
And removed by
Dancing tounge
Eager to fall in place
Along this need
To gratify
My flesh and souls
Need of this obsession
To her touch
Able to turn from silk
To razor kiss
And carve and spell
Her name along my spine
And splice my chest
And cut through bone
To expose my heart
And poison blood
Right at the source
Causing my whole being
To tremble and ache
And want more
Of her beautiful temptation
I am without hope
Of shaking off
This gravitational pull
To be touched
By lip and flower
And fingertip
The anticipation
Of madness
And exhilaration
Has me gripped
Tightly to
This deathless lust
Of my addiction
To her
Every touch

we stumbled through the dark
not knowing who
or what we were
swimming towards a finish line
we didn’t know was there
winning a prize
we didn’t ask for
or know what to do with

then for nine months
we grew in the blessed soil
of our mothers body
completely unaware
of being completely unaware

until a pair of hands pulled us
form the days of then
into the days that staked
into these days of now

once so small
we were not visible
to the human eye
how oddly we formed
in the ocean of our mothers belly
what strange things we become
(do you ever miss your tail?  I do...)

time seems a mischievous trickster
a dishonest magician
one minute a nascar driver
the next hour a lost snail
circling the same path

it seems we would remember
more of our first breath
the first time we saw
our mothers face
felt our fathers hand

we are far too old
by the time we can appreciate
how beautiful it was
to be an age where
we knew so little
yet believed in so much

how horrible it is to look back
and witness the ****** of magic
we once carried
in such great abundance

we are tricked into
this idea of growing up
horse pickles to that ship
I wont be sailing
on that boat anytime soon

adults are tragically misinformed
what they have gained
is not worth
what they had to give up

and it’s not that I still believe
in Santa Claus
its that I know the truth
of how he really is

its unfortunate how many parents
are too busy trying
to teach their kids
the this and that
of the that and this
of the world
too few know
how to sit still long enough
to listen and realize
how much their children
have to teach them
to remind them
of how precious and wonderful
it is to believe in the things
that are worth believing in
to remind them that magic
is a gift of love
and love is in everything
that is magic

how carelessly we fail to notice
the magic all around us
how willfully we waste
this short life
how many unnecessary
burdens we carry
how shamefully
we pass them down

growing old is inevitable  
and that in itself is a good thing
time maybe mischievous
and dishonest
the cuckoo clock may always
speak in fibs of hours
and fairy tale minutes
for the only time we have
is the only time it ever is

a brief pause of eternity
as we unknowing stumble
through this now
hardly aware of who
or what we are
or what to do
mistaking life for something
less than magic
instead of feeling how much
of it is filled with love

Stop praying for help
Take the miracle of love
And spread it ourselves

Words can hurt as much
As stone or stick wether said
Or when left unsaid

Love sick
Mad mad
Sickening love
I  wake up
In the middle of
The night feeling
So ****** good
Everything hurts
And aches
And the pain
Is pulsating through
My entire body
Making everything
Hard
Hard to breath
Hard to think
Hard to just lay there
And life is sweating
And seeping
From the dark chasms
Of my soul
And every demon
And devil and monster
Screaming and howling
From the bottom
Of my depths
Chanting
Your name
Over and
Over agian
And my heart
Repeating
The same song
The same syllables
Your name
Again and
Again
And I'm helpless
Against the
Madness and illness
Of this infection
Of dreams and hopes
And fears and exhilaration
Just laying there
Strangled by the
Sheets and blankets
And wishes of
Your alluring scent
Haunted by fingers
That have yet
To be interlocked with mine
My mouth dry and parched
Longing for that sweet
Bite of eternity
Waiting on your lips
My neck eager to
Feel your teeth
Break its skin
Letting forevers blood flow free
My heart full
But taking in more still
Growing larger
The seams splitting
But refusing to break
Carving my insides out
To make more space
For this
Mad mad sickening
Love
And I twist and turn
And writhe and toss
In the middle of the night
And my mouth
Whispering
The chant  
And the song
Every syllable sweetly
Passing from my depths
Past my heart
And through my throat
And falling from my lips
Onto my empty pillow
Your name
In my every thought
My  every
Breath
Pushing
This pain
And ach
And infection
And illness
And madness
Through my blood
And heart
And soul with
This love sick
Mad mad
Sickening love

I wonder if you know
that it’s you dancing between
the space of the ink
and the words falling
onto the pages
of the book of poetry
being written in my heart