Dip your hand into the
             frozen sea
It won't come back the same
clinging consuming warming
              The roots are deep and old
This is a different form of life
              Existing outside of
                             (nature)
               It is adieu to us
abnormal                        supernatural
             You feel it not in
              heart    or   mind
but  in                 your soul
Tainted Corrupted
                            Eternally a new
              and fragile sea
Rage becomes you
                 you welcome it

Imagine a cream coloured sky
(is actually quite frightening)

When pale, deep, and sky blue vanish
we are forced to question the stability of our world.

Now imagine a friend who has vanished,
or a lover has lost interest,
and isn't that kind of the same thing?

Or what about the temperature climbing higher,
or the oceans getting bigger.

The number of bees getting smaller,
and all the trees that we're harvesting.

Why does change need to be dramatic before we take interest?
Why can't it be small. Incremental.

Reaction these days is necessitated by crisis,
and not an everyday shift towards disaster.

We are comfortable with the everyday.
It is predictable. And comfortable.

But a cream coloured sky...
Now that would scare us into action.

the Coyote laughed at my joke
and said he had not heard it before

Whither wander you, Traveller
He asked with a grin full of rue,
baring sharp angled teeth
he teased the chill in my bones;
the numbing dread I was succumbing to

"to the End," I said, brazen tone lauded in ill-advised curiosity

Which End
retorts the Coyote,
my small fire dancing mischievously
in his timeless eyes

"Of my days,"
the river 'side my camp, sneaking by, made no move to intervene

Then I shall show you the way
He suggested
without much room for question

For I have been, and will be again
the soft fur shimmered with the stars reflected in the sky above

*and you are just beginning.

All I have to remember what we had
Is this faded and scratched photograph
Time has taken its toll on us
And now a cursed stain veils you
Leaving only a me who looks ahead
At all the memories we would make

Prickles of needles and drops of love
              veins cascade memories of light
Where the noble heart beats in love
with a ****** universe that knows no betrayal.

       Silver leaflets do not wither
               and no passing season kills the youth
Roots like fingers in sand
basking in the rich warmth of a fire more distant than death

        These trees touch the roof of the sky
to tempt infinity with a definition as tangible as the wind on your face.

Today this day will last until it needs not
the fire will shrink and a festival
                                                      (of tiny illumination)
will spark the imagination of a generation
                                                      (before it is born)

Revels and stories are odes to a gift so precious
we celebrate on lungs full of sweet scents,
the nectar of flowers feeding, nourishing,
sustaining a population of children-not-children.

A darkness not frightening
            but                 Joyful
                 wrapping our eager minds in insulation
to breed seeds of eternity recorded in minds untroubled by
unanswerable
questions

Tonight this night will last an age that requires no dawn,
only sacred appreciation of what mysteries tomorrow will bring
tucked in pockets of night's cloak

                                                        (But Today is not over
the sun still beats and eyes stare
                                     in wonder
                         at colours vibrant and ripe with innocence

Today I will know you and you will know me
So that tonight we will be written ever as one)

A tussle, a rustle
a broken wind rushes
              through dead grass
              withered trees
              scatters crackling leaves
Pictures painted in blown dirt
across scarred rock walls
             etch the wind's memory
             in reds and browns
Transient figures and nascent dreams
             depict a young history
of Fate and all his friends
             They dance
Fire flickers stoked by wind
              battered and fractured
From world's end
                           to world's beginning

There once was a river,
that flowed two ways.
It broke all of the rules,
and achieved the impossible.
It grew and grew, then shrunk
and dipped into darkness.

Upriver it flourished,
downriver it forgot.
Never was there ever
something quite like it.

It left no tracks.
Appeared in a whisper and left in a rush.
The breath came from the wind and
the course was where ever.

We vary, We deliver, words are words.
I've only ever won in thirds.

Fight, Die, Lose, Revive, and all we
ever see are dreams in disguise.

Whatever was done in anger can be fixed in Love.
Whatever is done in Love lives in History.

A trail blazed is a path created.
A trail forged is pure creation.

Once you reach the end of the world
the only way to go is back.

one evening while i sat alone,
i asked myself why.

what followed was a long explanation
of why i chose to avoid another

but still i did not understand
and bore a grave dissatisfied smile

the answer for one is also
the question for a second

but surely at the heart of the matter
there is a truth, a reason

but i did not understand

we are not all of us
in this together

but rather in all of us
are the pieces of a journey

it did not matter; the colour
of the stone beneath my foot

if it was still part of the path

Blue powder keg
          and green matchbooks
alight to make yellow red and gold
         a benediction                   in a nightmare sky
all shouts and howls
         blood moons and shrieking winds
a resistance
                  at
                  the
                  centre
of               an                     oppression
proof of concept
                   lets    you    sleep
          keeps your dreams
                               safe
                                      &fre;;
                                               &clean;
No monsters here
Let the morning saunter
                                in
Settle your restless                             doubts
and give you one more day
                     Peace, sweet one
                                Peace

I'm still just as crazy
as when words still made sense
and birdsong was our heritage
Now the time between what is
real
and all the things I've made
up
exists only in the time when
my eyes are closed
So I sleep away the days.
all of them

Bare branches bend
To scratch and pull
While cold frost clings
In grass and breath
Footfalls crunch and shatter
Except in that patch of late fall sun

Carried away by the ocean
To sights far from shore, on
The swells of sweet-blue brine
And waves like skyscrapers
Help, o' rescuer mine

Carried away by the ocean
Like a flea on a dog
On an elephant sea
A small life, determined
By whim, fate or fancy

Carried away by the ocean
Or drowned, a ship scuttled
Car'ed away, or Taken?
I fear this no nightmare,
no green world to wake in

Carried away by the ocean
Me, a thought, Me afloat
A salt breath in, rhythm
Eyes up, not ocean blue
A floater, white phantom

Carried away by the ocean
Sudden, tumultuous
roar, crash, repeat, closer
Closer! hum, whine, mouth sounds
Pull, no Wet. warm. Answer.

Clouds pass and reveal
Distant stars and inky void
We write constellations
Upon the very heavens
While terrestrial worries
Take root in weary hearts

sweet little nothings in my deaf ear
why do you try so hard for me?
affection, persuasion, tiny kisses on my cheek
you're trying to warm the heart of a corpse.
Pack up, move on, leave the dead things behind

Days like revolutions
Return to their origin
The wheel can travel
But the point remains
Fixed in structure
And spun in limbo

If you listen with thoughts undefined
the rain will begin to play a rhythm
a soft elegy for all we have forgot

I once spent a day listening to the past
and was rewarded with a glimpse of the future

bright strobes of energy etched in the fabric touched by the vast the mind

faltered

desire set in
and the soul searched for more
I touched the universe
and
burned

mind and soul
fought and argued
and went their separate ways
now we wander
broke and destined

time is consuming us

most is now scattered like dust

but then

we'll hear a whisper in the rain and
I'll remember what it means to be Whole

here i am
(and here i'll stay)
close to your heart

for ever and a day

I want a guarantee that you'll mean something to me
more than a misplaced memory in a garden I can't see
take me away and bury my dreams
i'm plagued by an immediate uncertainty that you're less than a reflection
Words echo in velvet valleys, broken promises, unhinged truths.
Whatever happened to an honest sense of virtue?
misbegotten, vicarious, vivacious
a snow fall of black ash buries whatever light you shine
i am more than my shadow, less than my soul
a cruel parallel of dreams unfulfilled
potential discovered and never unearthed
struck in a museum to be admired but not touched.
Feed me my horizion
swallow my direction
the forest floor yields at my touch
but hides my footsteps
hides me away in dead foliage and new sprouts
Forgive me my abused love, my fears derive admission of guilt
in all your gifts of love.
I've wrought stricken truth in statues of vanity
paid more heed to pride than sense
beauty lies in the mouth of the poet
while breath dies in the lungs of the politician
evermore lost in the eyes of eternal youth mixed gruesome spirituality
universal lies and singular realities teach me
I would never admit actual defeat
if I can pretend success exists in affection
Forevermore, notwithstanding you
I'll see you on the other side
just don't forget to bring the wine.

sea-drowned dreams bubble to the surface
lost and broken fragments diluted with the horrors of the abyss
Once sweet melancholy and pleasant conflicts
now distorted monstrosities fused with thoughts we hold dead

suns set and stars align
this is the end for this love of mine
troubled hours and weary eyes
we stumble through our last goodbyes

our hearts have burned
our minds have turned
and all we have learned
has been well and truly earned

we have built a family out of
friends, strangers, and lovers
a bond we share at the heart of our souls.
Now I leave behind it all.

Passions and fears blend into courage
to push me over the edge
allows me to spread my wings and join the flock
I gazed into the abyss and the abyss gazed into me.

We are one going different directions
reaching new heights
and forging new trails
forever tied together.

We saw ourselves in each other's eyes,
opened ourselves wide
and embraced those outside,
felt the change in shuddering sighs.

I will miss and love you all
as this too fades into memory
our hearts full and warm
I wish you well and depart, adieu.

once upon a time I commited a sin
only it wasn't one you'd ever heard of
my sin was so great
they invented a name for it
and it became my heirloom
passed generation
to generation
a curse for all to recognize
it burned my soul away
and cleansed me of any good
left me to wander unconcerned
with whether I could be absolved
now I'm a jealous wraith
hellbent on serving justice

the season's young
not yet bittersweet        
and i sit and enjoy      
the promise it sings                  
with bated breath
and an impatience
etched in my finger
here comes my rain
to wash away a sin
as old as my soul
yet still in infancy
with much to learn
so it I will nourish
while I sit and wait
here on this bench
just short of home
yet too far to walk      
here is where i stay
and here i will die

cloud capped mountains don't
really have a head
        And the roots of trees
we can only guess
        We can never get closer to
the horizon
        Forever trapped at the centre
of my own little universe
        Dreams are just hallucinations we
have when our body can't function
        But at least in my dreams
I can escape an inevitable centre
        I am everything
        Looking at something
And I think this is where I'll stay

if i knew that whichever way i travelled
i would still come back to this crossroads
would the journey matter at all? No,

unless i was not the same, carrying
the new disease of experience,
wisdom, and enlightened by perspective

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass on
this illness, to infect someone else?

if i knew that no matter where i journeyed
i would still return to this crossroads
would my travels matter at all? Perhaps

if i were changed, mutated
by the infection, with imagination,
creativity, and enlightened by relationships

then would this crossroads be the same,
if i were different? would i not pass
this blessing, to better someone else?

at a crossroads i sat, and pondered a syllogism

It repeats
It repeats
It repeats
Stay away
Take me home
Don't forget me

I carve my love
In broken and decaying bone
Promises scratched in red sand
On worlds distant
And lacking atmosphere

To the night wind I give
the embers of old love,
from letters on this pyre,
and cast off this burden
into bright, cleansing fire.

To the night wind I give,
full of fond memory,
a drawn and heavy sigh
of the man I once was,
to rise into the sky.

To the night wind I give
the last stalwart bastion
of the dream I cling to,
my old and worried dream,
that I could still love you.

To the night wind I give,
beneath starry witness,
and born in amber light
promise to discover
a true love warm and bright.

I walk the halls
Of the youth I recall
But all the paintings
Are memories of yesterday
And many other yesterdays
And the halls take turns
That I cannot recall

I used to think
That I could be alone
Cool and aloof
The outside observer
But it is just missing out
In fancier clothes

I cannot fathom
The distance your message
Had to travel through space
Only to be discarded
Out of the basic fear
Of being alone

I tread light (with a heavy heart)
footsteps brushed aside beneath my
laboured breath
now shines the sun 'cross my vagrant heart
(puts rest to idle flights of fancy)

shafts of brilliance decorate a face
(weary with a tear or two)
years ahead and years behind
scratch definitions of beautiful regret

I travel from there
to overwhere
and find my travels shy of fortune
(redemption, and sly contempt)

so soon enough I will smile
and you will smile
('cause home isn't far off now)
just another chore 'til forever more

Safety

                     is just where we go when life comes

a knockin'

The Big Lie behind clouded eyes

               (a great betrayal of the little truth)
               (that It's Okay)
          
                                       only we'll never believe ourselves
we'd rather trust the strangers who do not know

how could they? we've never shown them who we are

because we're safe and afraid

and all alone

                     but somewhere
                                                (inside)
                                                             fear is champion over hope

             love
             life
(all a prisoner)

Until we learn to say that It's Okay.

I only have until
This flame dies
The wax is old
Flame sputters weak
There is a breeze
Yet still it burns

I write because
This sorrow wells
To overflow the chambers
Of a heart already
Sectioned and cold
By loss upon loss

I wake up
Unsure of the where
Yet driven with why
The path is clear
This is not the first
3000 times I've tried

I am but a sad little lamb
lost in a myriad of dreams
I wander among streams of clouds
and fields of storms
trying to find a crumb of joy
the grass doesn't taste so green
and the wind ****** at my coat
leaving a clinging chill
to freeze my little heart
but I will persevere
and wander my hills alone
looking for the sunset
that marks my way back home

It's exciting in a time when

                            DULL
is in.
           and the most creative thing is to march along

Little secret whispers in posh scarves, sleek dresses, angled suits
              Strive for imagination in prison.
It is rife with discontent.
                           Influence chained.
                           Desire subdued.


              All we care about now is blending in
like it's the newest way to

                           STAND OUT.

My world is painted
By myraid dreams
Wry and stolen memories
A picture created
By someone who forgot
How it all went together

My dream is hers
Her memories come too
She calls herself me
The stranger stares back
Our worries feedback
She cries to sleep

My hand your shoulder
Your hand in mine
Green eyes lock blue
I push you move we step
A scratch a falter
We giggle and sigh

New Day, New Dawn for all the pretty things the sun shines upon
Today, Tomorrow comes for all the creatures living in sorrow
Wither, Wander with all the questions I have to ponder
Blue sky, Blue sea for all the wishes that could ever be

Now I only see you
When eyes blink
And light is censored
So now I pray
For final rest
In dreamless sleep

soft and lustrous, these colours decorate
like stars of a feather, all wrapped together
if i close my eyes, they begin to swim
tight in a spiral, they spin and spin
each colour a story, vivid and rich
amber - a cobbler, poor and overworked
blue - a priest, with sermons of doubt
and that green, and this red
a tapestry woven in luminosity

night falls on hushed conversation
drifts of laughter, peals of attraction
a comparison of souls blush soft exhaled breaths
near touches, averted glances, reflections in eyes
we two together discover newness in difference
the evening becomes young and old,
lives flow on winds of exchange and openess
wax and wan a brilliant fascination
growth finds route in minds flickering between paths
oft ignored in ignorance and incredulity
sought by courageous sparks of life unafraid of
the imperial void.
soft sands eager to crush hard rock struggle to gain purchase
invariably falter and confess inability
spirit prevails above desire, ignites a passion
and redefines the concept of humanity.
born on the whims and compassion of lightyears of volatility
eventually delivers miracles in frozen seeds.
nurtured imagination ripens, shoots for the sky
believe what can come from eye contact inside two panes of glass

An ever-flowing chalice
of thick red wine
You could choke before you drown
Damnation in excess
Devilry in revelry
Plenty; a curse
Revenge is in the tannins

What's a risk amidst safety?
Where's safety in a storm?
I see all your little lies, but
your lies see little light.

Even in a grove of weeds can beauty flourish.
Life can gather and swell, and overflow.
Chaos cares not its destination
Law makes its own. Life weaves in both.

The difference between light and darkness is perspective.

Hello my sacred youth
             blessed in eternal memory
muscles ache for loss
             minds slip in understanding

You were ever mine
             preserved in fond regard
Smiles wreathed in amusement
             tongues clicked in delight

You taught me mysteries
             I discovered darkness
I taught you trails
             you learned destiny

Whispers on the sea
            Speak words long lost
on decayed forgotten lips
The waves lap and swing with the
           passion of the revered dead
           Ancestors tell tales, scatter wisdom
and we need to take a swim
                             to listen
Chill to the bone the words invade
         Sink to the marrow, burn
                  and fade
A world of the inexorable
           and soon forgotten
                     Now breathes with my lungs
           sees with my eyes
                                and rhymes with my tongue

No welcome mat adorns the threshold of this house, whose stolen curtains leave gaping holes in the privacy of a building, stripped of laughter. The night peeks in through open doors, and rotted walls, where once soft incandescent light illuminated: a family portrait, childhood masterpieces, and a bookshelf once filled with books worn by the love of three souls who enjoyed nothing more than the peace and quiet of Saturday afternoons devoted to the exploration of their favourite author.

Along the North wall, where once the girl's bedroom sat proudly, gleaming with the banners of musicians and musicals, now rests rubble and ruin. Bereft of purpose, the house is weighed down, with the shame of being unable to shelter its family, with remorse from not withstanding, with guilt from the failure to hold together a family that deserved more than the inextricable truth that a life lived fully and completely in youth and virtue must come to a stop fully and completely.

No welcome mat adorns the threshold of this house, whose drawn curtains provide an honest glimpse into the life of a family, stripped of laughter. The day peeks in through an open door, across painted walls, where the soft morning light illuminates: a tough reminder, childhood innocence, and a bookshelf built with the  love and attention of now two souls who try valiantly to remember the peace and quiet of Saturday afternoons devoted to the exploration of their favourite author.