Stalked into listening.
A teacher preaches patience.
Will the message stick?

Sitting as strangers do,
squishing closer to one’s self,
refusing contact.

He slid closer to me and tucked me to his side.
There he held me.
I wish I had a picture of the way we looked.
I believed it then - that this was the hardest thing either of us had done or would do in our lives.
I saw it in the way he refused to look at me.
I felt it in the tears that rolled from his eyes to the hair on my head.
I knew then, at the very end of it all, I had found love.
One so great it that it did and forever would rival all others.

I've looked for it since and found with disappointment and drawn out pain. There would be no replacement.

Since then I have learned to invest all that untapped love into something else. I don't know where it's going but every night I send it out into the world hoping that it finds it's way to something greater than myself.

Without the photo I'm not sure some days. My mind often crosses what I so desperately want with what little I can recall. Preserved is either an embellished or blemished memory. One that I treasure and fall asleep thinking of every night.

I think he loved me as much as I loved him.

The lessons that I have learned from that boy created an unstoppable strength inside me. Completely bullheaded and delusional I continue to reach blindly for that spot beyond the moon itself. Back beyond the stars, to what ever it is that is waiting for me.

Yea,
before i graduated,
before we broke up,
before kansas,
before italy,
before number five,
before you joined up under the **** commander.

You want to make me smile?
shrug off your clothes, stay awhile.
You see,
its only you and me
locked up inside our wild minds
running
free.
Catch me off guard,
i dare you.
Lead me
to compare you
to my wildest dreams.
Let them mean something again.

Perhaps
if
life
change
came
with
a
similar
jingle
such
as
coin
change,
perhaps
then
we
wouldn’t
oppose
it
with
such
fierce
opposition.

Valid lines; knowing their potential for inspiration
replace a growing lack of education,
befuddled into breeding violence.
The beginning sings and the ignorant march on.

Elicit passion from little thought,
entertaining the toils our country has brought
before the world to see.
Following blindly, the ignorant march on.

Ye of little faith let me condemn you,
for I sit upon a throne of a hundred shoes.
Miles and miles I have walked - with blisters to prove
That hand in hand, the ignorant march on.

Obsessed with the pursuit of pain we entertain,
ridiculous ideas lacking any notion to gain
anything but wasted time.
And at the end of the day the ignorant march on.

Out of practice and lacking poise,
fumbling blindly through our boisterous ways,
we seek change without commitment,
leading others to join, the ignorant as they march on.

Could heavens tears fall as beautifully?
                       Could clouds form with more haste?
                                             Could what I look upon steal more than my heart?

                                                         ­                                                                 ­ Mind,
                                                                ­                                                           body -
                                                               ­                                               the soul itself.

                                                        ­         So that you may feel anything, but this.


My – kind stranger whose words have inspired
the weakest of grins.
I refuse your offer.
Leave me to my moods.
For as the sea they change
and I care not to drown another.

Let me sit and feel
all that this moment has to offer
for it to shall pass.

Children in lust.
Riding rhythms with their stilt limbs
throwing their bodies
in a manner belonging to the young.

Youth clouds the mind
it rains out its brilliance
in the form of something
opposed from both ends.

They attach blinders to their offspring
narrowing the vision.
They pluck dreams
like nourishment from a tree.

Composted into “usefulness”
the children remain,
stubbornly concealed within
hiding  in shadows.

We changed the date the calendars marked.
All of them in bold font.

Two weeks early and a day.
Some came with babies and swollen tummies.
The men all had shaved.

We ate, exchanged, and went our separate ways.
The day left on the calendar remained the same.
That day left open.

Nothing would be open,
except
maybe
Chinese.

There are many like me here-
sitting
well
spaced.
Our prayers fill the air
like hymns filling silence.

elders scoff while the young do worse
leaving the leaders cause to curse
looking for signs in a wrong place
seeking familiarity in a stranger's face
hope lost once
results in
hope lost twice
turning squares
rounding off corners
recreating the circle

Looking over the edge of a cliff
is comparable to fat fingers threading a needle.
The voice in my head mocks my fears.
Licking black berries in the fall with my mother
reminds me that all that glitters isn’t gold.
I look to the clouds and jump,
whirring the whole way down.
My audience cries shake it off.
I’m dripping wet.
Tic tac?
No.
Towel.

Always wanting more,
I find myself needing
To be inexhaustible
With exhaustion comes death
Sleep will search on
I am no where to be found
Counterpart making sure of that
I lie here wanting –
Nothing more than to coexist

Conclusions.

Many words will I write.
Few will be noted as “worthy”.
Yet shall I stop?
No.
All words noted will rarely be the same.
So I will write all words that lead my fingers to twitch and my heart to soar.

I think we grow crazy when the regrets of our past and the guilt of our conscience linger too long in the company of time and silence.

oh the world.

It will drill you
leaving little time for emotional distilment
caring nothing for a futures fulfillment

next

more than once you will seek
something already sought
there at the edge of your thought

next

out, clinging to a limb
where others slowly join you
time like the wind, blew

next.

You break and fall
because you lacked the courage
to leap and fly

Altruistic mannerisms,
developed from skewed senses
outlined by a greater power,
gives me anger, and greed first.

So that I might know
that I arrived on my own.

Base it on my ability
to develop self
and not my ability to obtain as I have been directed.

"I don’t think you will be able to cope" they say
"I don’t think you will be happy" they say
"I don’t think you will…" the say

they say many things

To them I say…"lets us find out"

What should we question if not ourselves?  
The coming of days?
The renewal of thirst?
No. Such things are certain.
Send your thoughts elsewhere
Let them keep company among
the troubles of tomorrow.
Inclined to such foolish lives,
we breath for our fashions.
I beg you to remind me of a time,
when I might have lived for more.

Homes today;
many appear replaced, similar and programmed.
Charitable giving;
rushed to keep up with cuts and shifts in government.
Nonprofits;
work for other narrow organizations.
Groups are asking.
They are looking
for a broader change.
Systems;
aimed to convince employees
not to ask about history.
And history…
that’s completely irrelevant
unless subpoenaed to witness.

Don’t enjoy space.
I wanna feel.
And if everything moves on.
The less you stop.

They hosted a candlelight walk,
for those willing to say farewell.
The cold was just plain cold, to some unfeeling.

Fires warmed a pair of twin sisters.
The girls laughed and ran on ahead.

Parked and waiting, I hid in my car.
I crouched low and silently shivered.
No one saw me.

You can hide from people.
They are easy to see and quick to dodge.
They are clumsy,
dragging their feet loudly
and complaining.

But people change.

And when they change,
they lose their shape.

They’re not saggy or gray,
they’re not anything,
but they must be something.

We are all something.
Something we don’t understand.

When people change,
they are much harder to hide from.
I couldn't hide and I knew she knew I was trying.

I got out of my car,
and ran to catch the twins that were already gone.

Find me the conditions conducive to life,
and I will be unable to find any fulfilled.
It is in our nature always
to want, mass, more, supplementary.
Without quench will be need.
Possibly more?
Will one brave; lonely and just, be enough?
Life only prolonging a barmy parody
until confronted with one of seven?
Found guilty on all accounts,
failing even, to screen their future.

remember
when you were little
and you thought silly things
like hawaii was the only island in the world....
I miss that.
not the ignorance
but the mind blowing
when you learned
there were more islands.

I wonder...
will there always be more islands?

It was supposed to be the start of the day.
When he had a heart, as fate would have it.
Standing next to his hero; eyes open and fixed,
distinctive of someone who’s dying.
He checked for a pulse
and found none.
A moment later they arrived,
shocked his heart back into action
and he was taken
to determine what happened and why.

immortal my soul
ever changing my shell
dark skies be our time
lacking the ability to witness
what will forever be a secret
rather special
if only brief
i will not with certainty
let you see me weep once more
in a place created from love
enough to mark it holy
will i yearn for you or
will i mourn for me

Be wary of what you create- for it may take on a life of its own.

The name that I give you,
it will become you.
It will
embody your spirit
within its syllables.
Echoes
of its shouting
will teach your feet,
the meaning
of quick.

It's funny how we use our lives to search for what we've always had.

Teach me to make beautiful.
No beauty can I find.
Search me whole.
Tell only what thoughts appear to be mine.
First comings need an exit of least disgrace.
No one wants to be kept waiting.
For then their time might never come.
Trimmed antiques in dusty lace.

Never will I do all that life wants of me.
My children – keeping up their own bargains.
Never will they know of mine.
I am irreplaceable.

Prices paid sum up regrets, lessons, changes, ugly things.
Little souls carry vengeance.
Old minds treasure memories.
Never will I do all that life wants of me.

I watch you,
in my open hand,
touched are your eyes.
First one,
then the other.
Like someone,
feeling her way,
with no way of knowing;
like me.

Perhaps for you there is no flight,
startled, you walk away.
Sometimes, I cannot bear the world,
but we are different,
you a humble soul.
Forgive me,
I, monster that I am,
bow down before you,
finally,
speechless.

oh little tree you are my favorite
skinny in the most unwanting way
one season? two? to know for certain
would be the end of you,
my inanimate love

feelings you cannot have
joys you will never feel
but nourishment and growth
breathe life into you
like the wind through your lost leaves

do not change please
never before have i seen leaves such as yours
i walk by twice a day sometimes six
always in even numbers,
for one can only go so long as one comes back.

you will outlive us all

Sisters are comparison,
trying to add…
anything.
Expecting moot stature
in vestiges of past days.
On Earth- be curious.
False medicine-
the difference between honesty and belief.
A better person is waiting
in the reflection of yourself
through those who know you.

Known for leading charges in to debauchery.
Fearsomely handsome burning blue eyes that long outlived his passing.
“Didn’t leave life unlived, did he?”

Reformed, unrepentant; grown wraithlike, diminished.
“If you give up, don’t moan about it; go back.”
The scholar who led a rebellion against performance.

The Lion in Winter.
The Ruling Class.
My Favorite Year.

Born August- the son of Constance, he grew up.
He gave up drinking- he did not give up smoking.
Cigarettes in an ebony holder, green socks, overcoats and trailing scarfs.

Good parts few and far between.
Waiting…you could wait forever.
Together with fine people, good companions with whom I've shared my belief.

My belief,
that one should decide for oneself,
when it is time to end ones stay.
I bid a dry eyed grateful farewell.

Audiences, critics, curiosity seekers
“My Favorite Year”
unlikely to win awards,
he clutched his statuette.

Explosions rocketed themselves skyward.
They polka doted the worlds tapestry; purposeful stains.
The sun hadn’t fully set yet.
To the west the sky was warm.
And skeletons could be seen floating,
long after the sparkle and the boom had dissipated.
Like dandelions gone to seed.
The sky celebrates with us

I'm growing up; not growing stronger.
In between the time when 3 men loved me I forgot how to love myself.        
I feel isolated, alone.
I am dependent on a boy who does not see me.
I signed a lease, so I stay.

But my soul...it wanders.
It wakes each morning and stretches its limbs to the ceiling and walls.
It pushes on the windows and bangs on my door.
Quickly I reel it in.
Before the neighbors hears its screams or see the chains that hold it back.
I bury it into me.
I make it lay straight, flat and neat under my skin.
But it battles me.
From my eyes I can see it taunt me in the mirror. 
It weaves my hair into knots.
It whispers pretty things to pull my gaze upward.
But I look down. I watch my feet.
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                     
I am tired.
We are tired, this has to end.
Maybe tomorrow I'll let my soul win.
Maybe tomorrow we will both take flight and instead of whispering we will sing.
I will look at the sky.
I will loose myself in the stars and I fly with the birds.
I will skip on clouds and pluck trees like flowers.

Why should peace come only
to those who are in His favor?
Surely all desire such a gift.

Perhaps we are still struggling
to earn such clemency.
Hush, your time will come.

Of all the truths
the blessing of birth brings,
let them bear witness.

It is, that time gives one all it has.
And if regret should lie in anything -
it will be in ceasing not that which is always present.

Such as a mother love.
Nothing is greater.

Old man sitting class front
Plucks his twanging banjo
Singing songs about rain
Songs about this kind of day

Imagine the tough skin
Hugging his picking thumb while he strums
The music rewinds and ages
Giving rhythm to his pulls and nods

Lines escaping from a dark wrinkled cave
Hidden behind whites and grays
Growing south like so many do
Just an old man sharing his love with you

Keeping it all the same
Hum drum going nowhere
Questioning progress
Did I go anywhere today?

Or have I just returned?

Stand before the world, for it is your stage.
Speak truth, for it is your conscience.
Stand tall, so you might be seen.
Speak slow, so others may take note.
And bow only when life itself ceases.

Repeating my idols selected words
for ears of the youth who haven’t heard.
Big minds have seldom thought
that worth thinking of.
Imagine instead what of the rest?
If only they could see their best.
Have a place to believe,
the world unraveling, to all it could be.

we stay within confines constructed of fear
why we do not leave is mysterious on its own
for we find ourselves stuck
reluctant to change
be it fear that things will be worse?
or be it fear that they will be far better than ever before?

Be the fall.
Begin on and continue through the night.
The author has given away,
without screening as I had.
Deep into your own roles we play.
Transfering next year,
I get to play mom.

my hands are cold and thin,
worn down by life and sin.
searching into my eyes,
to the life you find,
among things that lie lifeless and cast aside
are haunting words
i never had the courage to say.

Rest well my friend. It’s not the end,
and until then, we’ll just pretend.

That you and I will someday find,
our winding way backwards in time.

The other side, it’s kinda vague.
It kinda makes,me wanna wake.

From this dream I can’t have dreamt
because you see, I’m spent.  

Memories I have kept
have slowly crept
and caused the tears
that I had wept
to leave behind
their slack confines
and cloud the days just like my mind.

I fill our places with new faces
searching for small traces.

Like bits of you inside of them.
Rest well my friend. It’s not the end.

I seem to find myself entwined
and mesmerized by those

whose lives you've helped align.
It seems my love you still live on.

As seasons change, I rearrange
the thoughts I used to entertain.

They, like I have grown from pain.
Get lost with me and let us hide

amid the memories of my mind.
The other side shall call me too.

Starting with the morning dew
and through the setting sun,

someday my time here too,
will cease and be done.

I thought I knew what I was,
what I wanted,
who I’d be.

But time reminded me
of my mortality.

Accidents sculpted.
Limbs punctured.
Secrets spilled.

My foundation slipped out.
The mess was astounding.

Broken.
Bruised.
Battered.

Onlookers scoffed.
Kin took perimeter,
shielding me within.

It was there  
I remembered
who I’d been.

Small and painted
dripping color
stop to stare
you’ll start to smother.

Take a minute
then be on your way
every moment
bleeds into May.

For that single
blissful second
all the world
will fade away.

The pretty girl gets what the pretty girl wants
and the ugly chick goes where the lonely people go
and together they wait for the day
when the sun goes down and stays away
and we all
look
the
same...shadows.

Coy – if anything worth being;
could it be any sweet shorter of a word.
To collect all precious sounds and
sing them to the air.
Hoping few would reach you
where you sit.
Pretty things like yourself
deserve more than regretful confirmation
of dreaded truth.
Could not I will the world
to come true unto you… in a blink.
But quiet echoes loudly.
In the dark