this is for the lost and found

this is for the star gazer who connects the dots,
but the dots just don't conform...and he stares infinitely
this is for the mailman who braves a snowstorm to deliver teenage puppy love letters
with ***** induced rhymes to ignite a lust
and his wife hasn't loved him in twenty years...yet he still believes

What are you waiting for?

this is for the couple on the edge of divorce
but the veins leading up to their hearts are still twined like an intricate array of grape vines
a cartographer could probably still design the road map of their love
and yet they still fight

What are they waiting for?

this is for the matchmaker who manifests love from the tip of her fingers
and can put one and one together to make magic
but she can't seem to find the right one
so she lives vicariously through the successes

What are you waiting for?

this is for the girl or boy wishing they could be the hand that was held
through the maze of ten thousand footsteps they walked alone
because they cannot have this dance tonight
and their palms remained unclasped
...still they wish

What are you waiting for?

this is for you, struggling with the wait the plagues
trapped in the limbo to move forward or continue to let life happen

Stop waiting.

Be unsatisfied.
The moments we settle  are moments wasted
wasted on waiting,
I want you to have caffeinated jitters
instead...
we wait
and we wait
we wait.
and some more
wait enough and life will pass you by
so make a change
step out into the daylight that only occurs twelve hours of the day

Be a shot out of a cannon, or the confetti of victory
a firework that illuminates the entire midnight heavens
don't search for the brightest star in the sky, be it
don't wait. don't make an excuse
because, i may not alwys be looking, but you're transparent enough i can see right through you

and if you need it
I'll be your push, like a swing
but its up to you to sprout wings

be unstoppable when you terrorize the sky
be a force of nature
be a gust of wind so strong that it knocks God on his backside
and  his laughter shakes the universe
and for one brief and fleeting moment he shines light upon your rainy day

when you finally stop waiting for life to happen
don't bother telling me because i will see
because the wreckage you left behind tearin up that robin egg sky
will last longer than rainbows

that stargazer who stares infinitely will see your supernova soul
burst through the darkness, fleeting beautiful and damaged
forever shall you be etched in the stars
may be you forever...capable

a conscious thought stated:
don't write another love poem
but his words are vanilla to my ears
the smoothest silk texture
spun from his consonants and vowels
running from his lips and melting over my flesh
you can see where i get distracted...

because infatuation and intimacy intertwine
spinning a tangled web
woven from the strongest thread
and your fingers are musicians magic
strumming on my heartstrings
playing chords on my heart
carrying a tune that would make Celine Dion quiver.
it made me quiver
but there aren't six degrees of separation
from lust to love
there's one degree
but a thousand steps in between

the chemists couldn't explain
why our chemistry combined
in such an intricate way
and all the experiments were inconclusive
because only we are the mad scientists behind our insanity

and while the scientists tinkered
the mathematicians drew up an equation
insert me and you
into x and y
but x and y don't define hidden variables
that even we had to search to find
the eraser's been rubbed raw
against the paper with a hole in the center
they'll never solve their invented equation
because mathematics aren't involved

just a finely designed road map
tracing your veins and mine
from fingertip to fingertip
eye to eye
an artists divine sight
i'll be the paint to your brush
your lily pads to Monet
if your words are paint
my body's a blank canvas

i'm a writer
but even i'm struggling to find the words
that may as well be hidden in catacombs
but we don't need Edgar Allen Poe
to quoth the raven "nevermore"
nevermore shall i search for this unicorn of words
mythical in that they don't exist and yet somehow you do

we'll resurrect Charles Dickens
because he's the only man who would even make an attempt
but even his hands are trembling
with the pressure mounting of a lost word and a quivering pen

thunk

as we watched him dissolve into the pen and ink that created him

this conscious thought beckoned forward in my head
do not write another love poem just yet
for who will scribe the words to fit our facets
when the skins withered, wrinkled and dry
but our hands still twine like grape vines

maybe by then they'll have written another edition of the dictionary