i stay drunk all the time
on sweet berry wine
from the fruit of sublime
on the trees and the vine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the haze

i get by all the time
with these ways of mine
all I need is a dime
and sweet berry wine

i get high every day
by the way of the blaze
that's just my way
to break through the maze

My security  blanket
Is full of anthrax
Not sure when
Or how that happened
Maybe it's always
Been killing me
I wish I hadn't noticed.

Here we dilute ourselves into many
Things to stop our world
In the middle of its course:

Your skies are caught in dreams,
You bloom only flowers you recognize.
It hides the truth between
Your ears,
It hides the selfishness of your poetry,
The sighs of life in your grey solitude,
Your tongues are thirsting for something,
And you have become a pop cultural
Verse of repetition,
And the world will catch you
From behind your skies,
You can no longer hide in your abyss.
  
   And to state what I mean unpoetical,
   I see the hate rising in a tide,
   The world I know ignored in this forum
   Of intelligence, hate gaining tide.
   Of people ignoring the bigger picture,
   Where are you?
   I see nothing of the tsunami that
   Has overtaken the country here
   In this place where poetry and political
   Topics mesh more than you know,
   This is your voice,
   I implore you to change your flow.
   We live beneath this destiny,
    Beautiful Earth,
    But if we stop our words,
    Are our words even of worth?

On the occasion that we kiss downy
silken, time diminishes
we petrify within our rapture
existance sails about
like snow in a globe, gentle
hushed

When we reduce
our eyes convene
courts of affection
and the world is unchained, free
to move again

At home within your purchase
a fox within its burrow, warm
at ease, a lovers sympathy

You give me life
I breathe.

Take all your emotions and throw them away,
try to keep your feelings at bay.
I know you never want to feel this way,
one day I promise you...I'll make him pay.
Please don't let your mind stray,
I know your emotions have gone down this dark alleyway.
You feel like that day was your doomsday,
I wish I could tie him to a ******* railway.
And maybe even push him down a stairway...
I'm sorry that he made you feel this way,
please just take the thought of him put it on a fishing line and castaway.
Darling don't pay attention to what people say,
because his time will come on judgement day.
So just wait because this rainy day
will pass and the sun will rise making it feel like Friday,
and all the feelings that you feel today
will be better than the ones you felt yesterday.

Love is bereft ---abandoned by the heartless
    cry not, nor lament--none is around to listen
     sorrows of the broken heart
    are never assuaged by reason
    
   ..ah ! when would love
  its splendour once more  glisten?
  my pillow I #bite this sombre night
  in tears--I never knew love was such a prison.

I want to be
                 your happy poem
    to write myself
                             into your eyes
your lips, your shoulder blades
to fall into your soul
                         and leap from there
into that heart within your heart
not known to you just yet

I want to be
                    the verse that rings as true
        as the promise of your gaze
late in the day, an uncontemplated
word
a whispered phrase which keeps
and holds and stays with you
                throughout the day

I want to be the sound
                        and smell of fresh felled rain
to stir your thoughts as you awake
                        a storm
relentless, unafraid
                       to bring your laughter
and retreat into the wants
                                      within your veins

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they say don't it's bad for you,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some crack-addled *****
frustration at every turn, as I see
the corridors of my mind; a dead end
every time, and maybe the migraines
are a true sign of recent times
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so

feeling sorry for myself again,
surprise surprise, I think a lot
they said don't it's bad for me,
surprise surprise, I wonder still
feeling sorry for myself again,
like some lonesome lowlife
I understand the kettle's whistle,
tormented and brought to boiling point,
tortured by the very talents that give it purpose
am I a kettle or a joke to you?
pain for days, a complete sense of contempt
seeing myself so low, I must mount my eyes
high up in the trees, stitched into leaves
to look down on everything so

Your words continue to bounce in my head
Everything you say,
Seems to have so much weight.
I can't help but think,
Analyze,
Over-analyze.
No matter if it was something said yesterday
or last year.
The words continue to bounce around.