I can't say I love you
  except when you're not near
I can't say I love you
  except when I'm far away
I can't say I love you
  until I close my eyes
I can't say I love you
  because I waited too long
And I can't say I love you
  even though it will always be true

The poetry section is small
and somewhat hidden
Bukowski still floods the shelves
Baudelaire’s flowers still in bloom
eternity lives here
pressed between the pages
taken into our lungs
and released in every word

lucky for us
the dead write remarkably well
considering the are either ash
or dry bones
names long ago engraved into stone
printed along the spine of new books
and why should death
stop anyone from writing
it makes life more bearable for the living
and more hopeful for the dying

at least
sometimes it does

books, poems, fairy songs
somewhere to escape
something to escape with

writers, poets, storytellers
hiding in plain sight
sipping coffee
drinking wine
shooting whiskey

a sketch pad or journal isn’t official
until it has a stain of some type
a ring left behind
from a cup or mug or bottle
a splash of this or that

we tend to admire the dead
more than the living
as if living is something
we just  need to survive
as we wait our turn in line
to grow old
to become useless
to reach the wastebasket
that we can dump our dreams into
to let go of the burden of hope
and just settle into our caskets
our coffins
and wait for sleep
to become death

and that wait is made easier
by the dead who still write
as most of the living
seem to have forgotten
the color of their dreams
and what they had to live for

I can barely remember
there was something though
some dream
that feels a lifetime ago
or a lifetime away

maybe I could remember
if I could just sleep
through waking up
and wake up
while still dreaming

maybe I could read
some more Bukowski
while walking through
Baudelaire’s flower
lost somewhere in a bookstore
found between the lines of eternity

With our feet we can learn to fly
And in flying we can dream
Dreams of dance
Dreams of life
Dreams of joy
Dreams of love

As the day drags on
My heart is always flying
Beating for your love

Home of the brave who are too soon forgotten
dressed in flags of false songs of freedom
to hide the past acts of human treason
built on soil stolen that is drenched in blood
of hands taken far away from their motherland
pride standing on top of purple mountains
full of lies and fools gold

no truth found in the bleeding gums
of the greed of politicians owned by corporations
humanity takes a backseat
to the trust we put in gods of cash and coin

children held hostage to the skies
of thunder raining down bullets of assault
from guns in the hands of lunatics
allowed easy access to the weapons of their deaths

and the puppet of a president
has a hand so far up his ***
his ego can’t distinguish the difference
between the very basics of right and wrong
and it’s all just for show
the crocodile tears paid for by the puppeteer

how much longer can we watch this horror show
how much longer before we stand up and overthrow
another day will be a day too late
and yesterday is already gone

if not now then when?
if not now all we will be able to do
is sleep with the regret
of what could have been

That's just how it is...
Because there has to be a winner
And there has to be a loser
Because for hero's to be made
Lives have to be lost
Slavery is the cost of freedom
War is the price of peace
Blood is cheaper than oil
  (and easier to replace)
Believing the lie is not the same
  as knowing the truth but
  we believe it anyway
We have to shed the blood of the innocent
  to keep the flowers of war in bloom
We have to break the backs and grind the bones
  of the poor to fertilize the crops of hate
We have to protect our lie, I mean our LIvEs from
  those who wish to **** it or I mean us
Death is not a profit we can afford to lose
The Machine has a hungry that can never
  be satisfied
And the teeth of the gears are stained with the
  colors of greed

Life is the reason
That we must ask the questions
Love is the answer

Why do we imagine beyond
the realms of possibilities
why do we dream of places unseen
why do we dare the stars to fall
so we may make wishes from their death

and yet do so little with our lifes

Why do we fear the things
of our hearts true desires
of love so beautifully blinding
of life so freely lived
that we make small wishes on the death
of stars falling from the sky

What is this life we live of work and toil
to wear away our years and flesh
to fade away in silent desolation
and grind our bones to dust and sand
and be less than memory of dying winds
wishing on stars that die
so they may come down from the sky

do we do too little or think too much
what significance are we
to the sun the moon the stars
when we believe ourselves confined
to the body of our flesh
and lock ourselves within our minds

that only in the breath of the hour
of our dreams that we can be more than
queens and kings of human misery
and take the shape of any bird
and fly beyond the realm of skies

and what is it to dream of places unseen
from what mind or eye did we dare
to steal away memories that were not ours
and from what imagination did we find
realms beyond the possible

were we nothing more
in what may have come before
lonely stars hanging quietly in the sky
waiting to be dreamt as something more
made out of flesh and bone
and be a home for a heart
that knew the truth
of living out loves true desires

imagine what could be
if we believed in the breath
of the hour of our dreams
and we lived a life
so beautifully blinding
that love was free to live
in its hearts true desire

His smile is golden
His heart is honest and pure
May he never change

Man needs redemption
Hell dreams of colors to sin
I pray to your heart

How lucky am I...

just to know you

to be touched by your kindness
to witness your grace
to be struck with awe
and wonder by your beauty

to feel love once again
beating wildly in my heart

I wish I was younger...
I wish I was braver...

I wish I felt I could give
as much back to you
as you have already given me

you...
you who are much more than beautiful
much more than inspiring
much more than I could wish for...

dream of...

so much more
than my heart dare imagine

yet here you are...

smile warmer than the sunrise
wider than the moon

eyes carved out of the dreams
of the stars dancing
in the milky way

what sweetness pours
from your soul
what promise and secrets
live in your lips

how many lifes would I give
how many times
would I play the role of Romeo
to just once touch
the soft skin of your cheek

to know your love
even at the price of death

that would be no tragedy
no tale of grim romance

for who other than you
could be as perfectly beautiful
as every definition
known and unknown
for the word love

Time gives no refunds
Spend it freely and wisely
Add the moments up

Most people are blissfully unaware
of just how much we are all alone
one by one by ourself
drifting though the day to day
   just another night

            life

letting the world turn
into something disturbingly ******
as everything spins out of control
bullets fall from the sky
and we brush off the deaths they cause
as if it is just a light drizzle
no need for an umbrella or panic or change
everyone is breathing in and out

   in and out

      in and out

         in and out

******* without rhythm or reason
other than to pass the time
and pretend that we’re still human on some level
but no one stops to notice if there alive
or if their heart is still beating

as long as we make the right noises
it’s close enough to love
the abuse that is
anything to keep ourselves
from the appearance of being lonely

     life

our numbers keep growing
as the population only knows how to expand
death cannot keep pace
with the rate we procreate
and we will devour this earth
down to its core with our ignorance and greed
and then where will
  
        life

go without us....


                           it will go on and on and on

and it is hard to argue against
that it will most likely be better off without us

She stirred through his dreams
that danced between the hours
of lust and loneliness
and his heart beat chanted
the syllables of her name
setting his dead blood in motion
she spread like wild orchids
with vines tying him to a bed
made of tropical warmth
and human moisture
in the darkness of his room
under the sheets
of his empty bed
he could feel the heat
of her breath sliding
over his seeping skin
her image was painted
in the wet colors
of his desires dreaming
where she slithered
over his twisting body
that writhed in a restless sleep
lost in prayers of wanted sin
and the death for the hours
of his lust and loneliness

Between brush and pen
And paint and ink
I cannot remember
I cannot think
Did I forget
To get some sleep?
I should be tired
But my eyes
Say no
They say I'll be fine
Just paint and
Write some more
But I need some new supplies
And now I wonder
Is it safe to drive
But no matter how hard
I try
I simple really do not know
If I took a nap or a wink
It really isn't very far
Let me hope
I do not crash the car

Music is the heart
Of the universal beat
When we all feel love

Rejoice in pleasure
And give into temptation
Dance with the devil

There's a strange beauty in death
how peaceful a lifeless
body lays still
the calm expression on
the face of the departed
unknown secrets dancing
behind their closed eyes

Knowing that they are free
of human misery
no longer subjected
to suffering
and yet still connected
to our hearts
still remembered by love
still loved

And let us hope
they are welcomed
by whatever God
they prayed to
may they be reunited
with old friends
and family gone before
may their life
their beautiful life
be celebrated
and may they
be remembered
and loved
and loved
and loved

She was beautiful
  and it took no effort
  of her own
She was simply born to beauty
And the way she carried
  herself
And the way she walked
  suggested a kindness rare
  To this world
But hiding just beneath the
  skin that laid gently on
  her face
Was the burden of sadness
  that only a delicate heart
  could be strong enough
  to hold

I know it’s not love
but you can rise the ghost
of my dead heart
and set fire to the dormant blood
below my skin
and though I will never feel
the warmth of your breath
along my neck
I will hear your name
in the echo of things unspoken
in languages only heard
in forbidden realms
where sin and love
have no shame
and pleasure is the only prayer
for fools who dare get lost
in the dark pools
of the pupils of your eyes
and find themselves carved
and inlaid into the eternal beauty
that can only be found in you

Its just one of those nights
Where I just want to listen to the Pouges
And cry for an hour or two
Or the rest of my life
But hey
P.S.
*I love you

At one time we were
The fastest little swimmer
That's why we were born

I am paralyzed with grief
sinking into unknown
depths of despair
trying to remember
how to breath

knowing the worst
is yet to come

cruelty smiles on
the nearby horizon
hatred is sharpening its nails
ready to crucify
anything in its path

history set to repeat itself
our haunted past
being dragged into
the present and future days

heavy is the heart that
must hold onto hope
throughout this darkness

that must love
in the face of hatred

that has to uphold peace
against the pounding
fists of violence  

so with heavy hearts
we must move on

and remember
how to breath

and breath

and move

on

and

on

The hangman's noose
  dances in the wind
and the blood of the past
  is printed below
   the white washed pages
     of our history books
Hatred repeats itself
  as it bares it's rotted
    yellow teeth
and spills it putrid
  green bile
     and shouts
   it's hollow anger
Any chance of sensibility
  or kindness corrode
    on the branches
      of the family tree
as poison is passed down
    in the blood
     festering in the heart
      generation after generation
Nothing changes as the history
  of hatred is stuck on repeat
and the burden of hope
  grows heavier still
but we must carry on
  for without hope
    love cannot survive
and without love
  there is no hope
    at all

I couldn't love you anymore
  than I already do
and it's killing me
  but what a lovely way
    what a lovely way
      to go
to die like this
  to have lived a life
where in the end
   it was love
     that murdered me
to know as I took
  my final breath
   that the thing
     making my heart
       beat inside of me
would escape
  the graveyard
    of my chest
and live among the stars
  where eternity dances
    with the love
      that was killing me
  and what a lovely way
     what a lovely way
        to go

I am lucky enough
  to be able to
    sit here today
   and write down
     that I've watched
    more than fifty years go by
        in what has mostly
          been a blur  
and in that time
I have laughed
   and I have danced
    and I have loved
   and been loved
    and I have cried...
I have really, really cried...
and painfully and truthfully
I must admit that
   I honestly don't know
    how I survived
  the nights that I cried
   until there was
    nothing left of me
that there was only
  the heavy
    and the hollow
     in my chest
  that continued to cry...
there were tears
  and snot
   and heaving
but I was gone...
no longer really there
but somehow
I made it through
I came back somehow
I woke up the next day...
and today I am grateful
  beyond words
   to still be here today
I know with fifty
plus years gone
  there will soon
    be a tomorrow
     that I will not see
and that it will
  come in a flash
but that does not trouble me
  as I have said before
Death will make lier's
  of us all in the end
we all must one day walk
  into the shadows
   of the unknown
but I know in the time
  I've seen pass
my heart has been
  blessed and filled
   with the light of love
and I know in whatever time
  I have left
   that light
    will not dim
    but grow brighter
and when the shadows come
  how lucky I will be
   to have such
    a beautiful life
  to say goodbye to...

she walked through his dream
  and played the violin
   he sat shyly on the corner
    of her bed and listened
   to the rhythm of music
  that pulsed from the strings
he knew it was only a dream
  as she sat down next to him
    and smiled her gentle smile

they would never met
  in the waking world
they would always be strangers
  in different places
   at different times

yet somehow she would
  always be with him
    a small piece of
      golden thread
    stitched into the fabric
      of his soul

she whispered something
  of poetry to him
   and pointed to
    the clock on the wall
     of her room
    the second hand marched
   in its circle
  and the minute
stepped into place
while the hour stood still

he looked at her
  with a hint of sadness
   in the corner of his eye
knowing he would wake soon
  knowing he did not know
   when she would be here again

he went to speak to her
  but before his lips could move
    he woke up
      in his dark room
     alone in his bed
   his eyes still lazy
  stumbled around
  hoping to catch
one last glimpse of her

there was nothing there
  but the silence of morning
   his eyes closed again
    as he sat up
   and moved to the corner
  of his bed

he sat still for a moment
  knowing the hour
   was in no rush
    and he listened
   to the quite of the morning

and he smiled his worn
  but happy smile
    and from within his chest
  he could hear
  her violin playing
the harmony of her heart

There is something haunting
  in the leaves
in the colors of autumn
  and in the birth of spring
a ghost of longing
  floating in the warmth
    and comfort of a breeze

love felt but never spoken
  
how I trembled
  just to be near
   how I tremble
    now to remember
what might have been
  such a foolish dream
and the monster still sleeps
  
     still sleeps

      still dreams

and just like that you were gone
  the good light dimming
    as it sank below
     the horizon of life
   and slowly slipped
    to the secret places
      only known to moonlight
        and butterflies
and its true... our hearts
  are heavy with grief
   but we are fortunate
    that you gave us
     so much to love
       that you gave us
         so much love
that even though our hearts
   are heavy with the news today
we can take comfort in knowing
   that your memory
    and everything
you gave to us in your life
   will one day soon
    make our hearts smile again
that even from wherever
  you may be hiding now
   that we will laugh and sob
    and grieve and find joy
     with you again
      and again
       and again
  and I know when
   we need it most
    we will find you in
      the good light again

I imagine one day soon
  I will feel deaths hand
    placed softly on my shoulder
her touch will be warm and tender
  and I won’t have to turn around
   to know she’s there
I’ll feel the weight of the grief
  swimming in the tears
   of the family I leave behind
I’ll hear the whisper of future laughter
  from all of those I loved
    when pain and grief
     trade places with found memories
as my life flashes before my eyes
  I’ll invite death to sit beside me
    and I will slow down the replay
      and I will pause and point
       and laugh and pause
        and shake and cry
       and pause again
      and point again
     and laugh until I cry
    one last time
   one last time

as we begin my walk through valleys
  unknown to me
    I imagine death will smile
     to have witnessed
      all I had to share