I'm floating in the clouds
i am that i am
There's nothing or no one only the space i breathe in.
i'm feeding good-byes
i am that i am
not purposely of course but a clouds a cloud i stay the course.
i'm believing in blue
i am that i am
I've seen the darkest nights, yet blue always shines through.
you want a kiss good-bye
i won't that i won't
to torture the world without your presence as if i stole the stars from the sky.
you belong with me
you do that you do
feel free to fly with me, un-grounded by me, loved by me, driven by me, enough about me. I'm on one knee, i question thee "come float with me"; a clouds only as good as the sky it bleeds.
you can be the sun, I'll be the clouds
the sky can be the motive, lets make our world smile.

Watching her sit with her crossed legs
And her gaze upwards
Like the world is too petty
For her eyes to surrender.
She was magnificent, yes
But her looks feigned a lie
Her eyes could **** with intense fire
Her scent was amicable
For her preying hands
And if a being so unfortunate
Crosses her path
Or meets her eyes
She springs like a cheetah
And rips them apart,
Metaphorically, of course.

.......

My eyes wander off

.......

His frenzied looks
And unshaved face
Ruffled up clothes
Looks like he has had his worst day
Wonder what's got him so worked up
Must be a hangover
Must have had a drink too much
Last night
Yes, I can see a wife
Beaten up in an alcohol-fueled mania.
But those petunias in his hands
Beautiful
What a contrast to the man himself
A mistress?
Or an attempt to gain forgiveness
From his wife?

.......

Sipping the best local tea
Sit back
And let my mind have its spree

.......

Pick pocket
Such an adorable face
Blue-eyed, her tiny hands
Slipping in and out
Procuring knick knacks and wallets.
Life was never fair
Mother's sick and in a tarpaulin roofed
Shack off the main street.
Dad's a drunk
And she's had enough with that nonsense.
Her timed precision  and skilled fingers
Workings its way for a loaf and
The extra change for her mother
Curled up like a ball
In pain.

.....

Change for the tea
And morning paper.
Picking up a stride
Take a left from the plaza
Into a throng of living bodies,
And to be one among
The many lives
Toiling,
Living,
**Breathing.

having the low down blues and going
into a restraunt to eat.
you sit at a table.
the waitress smiles at you.
she's dumpy. her *** is too big.
she radiates kindess and symphaty.
live with her 3 months and a man would no real agony.
o.k., you'll tip her 15 percent.
you order a turkey sandwich and a
beer.
the man at the table across from you
has watery blue eyes and
a head like an elephant.
at a table further down are 3 men
with very tiny heads
and long necks
like ostiches.
they talk loudly of land development.
why, you think, did I ever come
in here when I have the low-down
blues?
then the the waitress comes back eith the sandwich
and she asks you if there will be anything
else?
snd you tell her, no no, this will be
fine.
then somebody behind you laughs.
it's a cork laugh filled with sand and
broken glass.

you begin eating the sandwhich.

it's something.
it's a minor, difficult,
sensible action
like composing a popular song
to make a 14-year old
weep.
you order another beer.
jesus,look at that guy
his hands hang down almost to his knees and he's
whistling.
well, time to get out.
pivk up the bill.
tip.
go to the register.
pay.
pick up a toothpick.
go out the door.
your car is still there.
and there are 3 men with heads
and necks
like ostriches all getting into one
car.
they each have a toothpick and now
they are talking about women.
they drive away first
they drive away fast.
they're best i guess.
it's an unberably hot day.
there's a first-stage smog alert.
all the birds and plants are dead
or dying.

you start the engine.

None of you have guessed that
No one has ever told me that
I will grow up to be an alcoholic.
I have told myself that because
I just want some kind of something
That is mine and no one
Will be able to steal it from me.
And addictions seem like a good way
To go about that.

"A genuine anteater,"
The pet man told me dad.
Turned out, it was an aunt eater,
And now my uncle's mad!

Brother, you're broken inside
I see your heart isn't worn on your sleeve
But your emotions are
You're a tough one

Brother, I see your pain
I can feel it
I can hear it...it hurts
I wish I could take the pain away

Brother, I've gone through it
I'm [We're] going through it
People hurt us, even those closest to us
Even those we thought we could trust

Brother, some people never change
We can choose to live with it, change it, or leave it
Each option will trigger pain
We're doing this together

I understand their frustration
deal with it every day
sighs and exasperation on lips and faces
as I try to read their meaning
wish eyes could look into the glass and see
frustration mirrors
I try not to show it and keep my cool
there's just no point in getting mad...
can't blame anyone else
it's me
and the world I belong to
blessed be the copers
for patience facilitates understanding
blessed be those who won't try harder
...the ones who don't want to talk louder
...or don't want to write things down for me
for they have lives of their own
I understand their frustration
I experience the like everyday
but what's the point in going on with them
willingness is such a nice coat hook
a place for friendships to hang in there
but it's neither right nor realistic
to expect the world to conform to me
instead...I walk away and keep to my place

I saw him soon after he died
on a shelf in the clouds
standing side by side
with at least four others
humanoid beings of soft white light
each emanating a moving wavy luminescence
distinct physical features indiscernible
but no introductions necessary
I knew it was him
he stepped slightly forward to address me
offering a greeting, accommodating hand gesture
although he spoke in an other tongue
the understanding was clear
seeping like osmosis from his mind to mine
he was reaching out from heaven to console us
to let us know he was all right
and at peace
was it a dream?
or a vision?
wishful thinking?
or truth?