Dark green seeds plant
tall and sturdy trees
of greed and jealousy
within my heart.

Light blue warriors of
wisdom fight valiantly
for the health of my soul
and mind, but in time
the trees become the
caricature of what
I have become.  

All I wanted was
to be something small.
To plant my own trees
from yellow seeds
that breed happiness and love.

Roses, gray,
lay still by the trees of my heart.
And until I finally find
the truth behind the
loves which I have made,
then they shall not depart.

Blankets of blankness sit staring blankly into thine eyes,
while piercing wails of silence cradle in lobes of flesh.
Seal'ed doors of unframed bricks sit idly, occluding the sight of thy mind.
All the while, focus evades the perilous thoughts that thresh.

Still, well-knowing that of thy key to openness,
which lieth still within thy breast,
must, perhaps, be lost at best,
in cold, dark lying emptiness.

Cold, cold floors press
against the soles of my feet,
as I roll out of bed
still affined to my sleep.

While my eyes remain low
and quite dauntingly heavy,
my hands moving slow
part them ever so stiffly.

Then, before me a speech,
spoken only in vision,
brings tears to mine eyes
by its glorious image.

Alive yet again,
the sight gives me relief,
for the glorious sun
shan't deliver disbelief.

There is a veil,
with no eyes and no ears.
It sets like a stone,
between love and its fears.

Totally unfleeting,
no laughs and no jeers.
To be ever-present,
for all of man's years.

Truly diseased;
synaptic in nature.
Stumble the footwork
and words of thy taker.

Creates blindness,
no sense.
Through silky folds,
made too dense.

There is a veil,
with no eyes and no ears,
but somehow it hears
and it sees all its fears.

It tears all but once,
before, never again,
will it restitch its wounds,
only gasping as wind.

*Collaboration, William Connelly.

I crave adventure,
like the birds crave the breeze.
I seek excitement,
like rampant waters streaming beneath my feet.

I wish to run,
where men do not run,
but wild animals do.
I wish to see from the sky,
or from deep in the rushing blue.

I ponder the rocks beneath my feet,
and the sails that cross the sea
and the trees that sway so free
and the birds that always sing.

I love the excitement,
and grandeur of its flow.
This world's own spirit tells me
to go. So, I'll go,

And I'll swim,
And I'll run,
And I'll fly,
For the sake of adventure,
For the sake of life.

Sun shines brightly on
lightly coloured blue balloons
as they float gently to the sky.

Children run and slap
their feet on wet bricks
trailing to waving waters
in backyard pools.

Couples sit and picnic
on the soft green grass
of small fields filled with
dandelions.

Old men sit tall and stark
with open cans in hand
by tailgates, watching
games on blurry television screens.

Your windowed soul
speaks leagues of numbered
tears as your heart beats beats beats,
and the tint of your eyes
shows the truth of your lies,
every time your half-crooked smile
hides the words that you speak speak speak.