She just bought a new black cadillac coup de ville
to accessorize her residence atop the hill.
She always said she would climb to the top
because her dream was latex-coated and
would never pop.
Her eyes were always fixated on the prize.
Now her success comes as no surprise.

From abject poverty she arose
into a luscious garden that only grows
the most rare and exotic flowers in town
whose aromas draw everyone around.
Her flair and magical style
can charm and beguile
the most rebellious
causing them to be oh so jealous.

Never trample the little flower
because someday its presence
will wield great power.
The one you least expect to succeed
will be the one chosen to lead.

Sometimes when we are in love,
we give things we didn't know
we possessed.

He was an adept, blasé thief,
who never thought twice
about stealing my heart.

He held it tightly in his
hand, then threw it to the
bottom of the deep blue sea.

Now I'm a treasure for
someone else to find.

We are not what we wear or what we own;
we are life experiences.
Life is what happens--what comes and goes.

Our perceptions are limited.
Appearances are oftentimes just illusions.
It doesn't matter the color or size,
we are all gifts in disguise.

Breathing in the dignified silence of nature
captures that perfect moment; that explosive
split second in time when one realizes
that love has no form.

Happiness is the easiest thing in the world
to shatter if you filter your life through
someone else's dreams.

Wear your own perfume of life
like a warm embrace.
Allow your dreams to rescue your imagination
as you blossom in the glow of your own aura
of self-awareness.

In a deep pink evening,
he watched with his dark eyes
as I danced in the rain.
My breast shown through my
clinging dress as water ran
down my face racing towards
my thighs.

The night was soft with
infinite possibilities.
Slowly I slid my fingers down
the side of my face as I tapped
against my top lip.
His eyes fixed on my hips,
insouciant in the evening's glow.

It takes a careful, patient,
searching eye to see the subtlety
of my quiet smoldering passion.
I smiled and he followed me.
He carried me over the threshold
through the hallway and lay me down
on our bed where we first
lay together thirty years ago.

I'm freestyling with my words,
remembering daydreams, sounds I've heard.

Hope rises from deep inside my soul
enabling me to release the stories I hold.

There beyond my wildest imagination
I can see it's possible to meet my expectation.

Notes are playing, power is flowing.
All around me the darkness is glowing.

Stardust is falling from above
gift wrapping me in a sea of  love.

What an awesome sight to behold
watching my expressions formulate in gold.

Someone I loved has gone away
taking half my existence.
Her imprints remain all over my heart.
Tiny museums of personal randomness
are all that's left.

Her chiseled beauty was made of
silky clouds, stardust, moonlight
and sonatas powered by the sun.
Memories of her rise up like
a sweet grape arbor.

I wear the perfume of her life
like a welcoming embrace.
Flowers wither, but her
perfume lasts forever.
I'm blossoming in the glow
of my mother's aura.

Death is no enemy, but rather the
foundation of gratitude, sympathy,
and art of all life's pleasures.
Only love owes no debt to death.
My mother's love will linger long after
the wind has erased her footprints
from the universe.

The simplicity of first love
hangs suspended
n an enclosed world
purse and unencumbered.

It is a gift freely offered,
freely taken, in mutual respect.
Sunrise is unblemished like
the translucent white of a
butterfly's wings and wears the
freshness of a spring morning.

We do not need to hold on tightly.
There is no place for the
possessive clutch because we
are moving in the same rhythm.
Our lack of fear makes for the
perfect dance.
It is our pure vision before we
discipline it into form.

Hopelessness is swallowing me.
For all my life I've been it's prey.
Sometimes strong, sometimes weak,
I've always managed to hold on,
but my grip is loosening.

My dreams have been squelched
and my imagination is fading.
I'm tired of pushing boulders uphill
only to watch them roll back down.
My shiny glaze of compassion has dulled.

Flaccid are my heartstrings,
flying ramdomly like torn ribbons
on a misguided kite.
Where can I escape and become
someone else somewhere else?

Most of us are lost in thought,
masked by the anonymity
of our life's commute,
unaware of the camera so
directly upon us.
We unknowingly allow our
inner selves to be seen.

Once life becomes rocky,
our carefully crafted personas
begin to slip away as our super-egos
dissolve and our minds begin
to wander aimlessly over our
cares and dreams.
It drifts into an ambient hypnosis
where the silence of the cosmos pervades.

If you're lucky, those few minutes
with your guard let down and your
gaze inexact, will allow you to
find the true solace that
human isolation allows.

Listen to my whispers deep down inside.
Be still, stop trying to hide.

Begin at this moment to stand up straight,
believing that it's never too late.

Hopes and dreams abound
even when it seems the world is falling down.

Make an effort, attempt to try
and watch as angels bend to lift you high.

That mountain will become an invisible force
once you set sail on a different course.

This is your time to shine.
Peel off the fear, open your mind.

Heaven is here by your side
so buckle up for an adventurous ride.

Dare to fly my beautiful one.
It's time you had some fun.

White silk cascading
a bedrock of black pearls
descending into a turquoise
pool of equanimity
in a yawning valley,
a picture album of beauty.

I was a naked dandelion
standing alone.
You picked me up
then blew me away.
All that's left are footprints
of a master manipulator.

This time was designed
just for us to wear.
Soft puffy clouds
skittering across the sky,
bursting red geraniums
bordering the cobbled
pathways as we stroll
arm in arm watching
the world go by.

Breathe in the beauty,
allowing the electric charge
of exhilaration to
pulse through your body.
We are surrounded by
birdsong and intoxicating
smells of mimosa and jasmine.
We are composing a symphony
with scents instead of notes.

We are completely safe
and protected.
Let go of everything--of thought,
reason, time and simply flow
with your heartbeats.
Illusion is its own reality.

Night is falling and our
picnic in the courtyard
filled with whimsical topiary
and candlelit table is ready.
We have been transformed into
divine essence, into spirit and soul.
Just breathe.

Dimly lit, the room holds a flavor
of cigarette smoke.
It's an arena where unconnected
spirits imbibing in a pretense of
swaggering fantasies is
beginning to overflow.

This scene is not a menu for
the epicurean, but rather a
respite for lonely hearts to
dine on chance encounters.

Every weekend night, they
sway to the music, playing
musical chairs; and hoping they
are not left out of the game.

It's the last call for tonight
as the intoxicated souls
begin to fade out of sight.

Indignantly you threw me away
as if I were cracked paper-mache.

Inside my subtle creases
my self-esteem was torn into a million pieces.

Discarded items can come back into style.
They require mercy lead by a compassionate smile.

Someone new has mended my form
with a solder enabling me to join
an establishment of bliss,
So, Mr. Perfect, I no longer miss your kiss.

Silence is the new décor
of our home.
Empty chairs with broken bones.

Fading colors of dreams
now accent the
brokenhearted theme.

Windows once holding a
picturesque view are now
shaded with dingy colored hues.

A man and a woman walk
in polar directions
no long aware of their imperfections.

Silent are the voices
that used to sing love songs.
When did this marriage go wrong?

Softly she cries at their
bedroom door as she whispers,
"I don't love you anymore."

I've seen you hurt
and I know your pain.
Sorrow courses through
your veins like an ******
and yet you are
my sweetest refrain.

Someday you will take
off your cheap polyester
dress of corruption
and put on a glittery
incorruptible couture.

You are so fragile,
a bent sapling
with bruised shoots,
grazing the earth
trying to make
it in a society of redwoods,
oaks, and few weeping willows.

Your courage wraps
around me like a shawl.
You are my angel
with broken wings
and a tilted halo.

He pried gingerly
removing the petals
from my heart
without crushing
the bloom so long hidden.

He doesn't have to say a word.
His simmering gaze, his smile
like a diamond sparkling
tells me everything
I need to know.

But when he said
he liked me more than
hunting, fishing, football
and his power tools,
well, I knew it was love.

Upon entering the orchestra pit to take my
chair, I noticed someone else was sitting there.
My ressentiment was without notes;
therefore, I was unable to emote.
With my head hanging down,
I felt chagrined because no one
would allow me in.

Up the dark streets I began to walk,
pondering my dreary thoughts.
What had happened to cause this rift?
Perhaps I never possessed a gift.
The playing of the music was sublime
but maybe it was just imagined
in my mind.

It's very quiet and lonely on ths block
except for the ticking of a clock.
The time has come for me to step outside
the fray and determine if there is value
in what I have to say.

I'm living between nowhere,
years stolen from my life.
The world has capsized.
Where do I fit in?

I had so many things to say,
but words they eluded me
after I plunged into his eyes
which were a beckoning river
promising me dreams and adventure.

Silence is now drowning my fantasies.
Like a firefly, I take refuge where
no one can follow me.
Was his love real or just brief
moments of intoxication and delirium?

Seeing death at the end of life is like
seeing the horizon at the end
of the ocean; a heavenly way to die.

Why run around sprinkling holy water
when there is an ocean inside you.
When you are ready, you will drink it.

Aspire to be the diamond's glint upon the water.
When life's journey is too step, rise above
yourself and float upon your dreams.

Between the shores of pleasure and pain,
see the horizon at the end of the ocean;
it is a healthy way to live.

It's a slippery ***** between
infatuation and love.
So how do I know it's love,
not just a confusion of desire?

My breath catches whenever he's near.
A lovely ache navigates its way to my
soul whenever he smiles, emitting a
renewed surge of excitement.

He is the feel of old wool,
smooth and strong.
I'm the feel of velvet, soft and soothing.
Our contact is electrifying.

His arms are the softest place I've ever been,
like a luxurious dark cocoon
steeping me in a feeling of intimacy;
a delightful warm sanctuary.

His love, unyielding as a live oak,
is embedded deep within my heart.
I can never erase his touch which
balances elegance with comfort.

Love is a swooning feeling coursing
inside me, giving me an inherent sense
of worth as it wraps its mellifluous
tones all around me.

My life is perfect chaos.
I'm in love.

Memories of time past are
sauntering into view like sweet
fragrant breezes, bursting gently
against my cheek.

It is that old familiar feeling.
Drowsily my eyes close to drift
rapturouly into the extemporaneous
visits.

Gold crusted streets lined in cherry
blossoms filled with familiarities tickle
my whimsy as shiny pebbles wink at me
as if to say, welcome back.

Splinters of once hopeful desires are
forming to provide driftwood enabling
me to float like whispers of an awakening
sunrise, warmly rising upwards out of the cold.

I'm enjoying a sweet escape from a
heart burdened by ineffable lonliness.
I'm coasting on a barren plain of sweet
amnesia like the young girl at seventeen.

http://youtu.be/f52dVN-5cWU?list=RDf52dVN-5cWU

Squandering time chasing
snowflakes has resulted in
the melting of my dreams.
Ripened pears that hung
on tres like teardrop
earrings were never tasted.
Their delicious sweet liquid
evaporated into
shriveled up hopes.

Exquisite formulations of
fecundated seeds were
not harvested.
A garden of splendor
was left unattended.
Blankets were not dispensed
when the coldness crept in.

A cradle once filled with
monumental potential
has fallen from a
mighty redwood.
Consternatin now serenades
this withering prodigy.