After
reaching my destination,
I get bored easily,
  all the new wears off my high,
and the people are all the same
   Flintstones
I dream of a place of
   Jeanie,
I am an astronaut,
  I get creative,
rub a bottle or a
    pipe,
think a magic vision
    will smoke up
resolve all.
    Wish me,
luck!

measured in
correlations
as four
cubits makes him
to me is equated with
the length of outspread arms
of a woman awaiting
him.

calm the beautiful blue mornings, green calm growing pastures
I meditate passionately viewing, white visions floating on
until some afternoons, on a horizon unexpectantly, out of the prettiest
cyan grows grey storms.
Heat builds, rises rapidly condensing moisture,  particles charge,
cyan dims to black; the world arises angrily.
Me and the sun hide hidden, the dark horizon growls. Flashes,
and thunder roils on awakening fears.
When she calms down, I meekly peek again, see a peaceful cloud and cyan
calmness.
Summer calm   blue green.
Red blonde clouds blowing free.
Again.

could I ever explain
will any words you transpire
will any alphabet portray
to you rose bush why
why I must take the flower from your stem

what beauty what wish
could make me **** one
to honor another?
Yet, ways of love what
may I give in forgiveness, thorns?

Dear, oh dearness growing
an honorary a remembrance,
may I return  her here,
for you to understand her glory,
prettier than growing alone,
is your flower
adorned her golden hair,

and all the baby crickets chirp
I got the daisies planted and then appeared
numerous
red black bugs
swarming the daises the elderberry bushes
the crickets just watched all the festivity
like who are they they are not me
that is cricket talk  
especially when young
and the boxelder bugs in
swarms respond
in red black harmony of numbers
it is we the red black bugs of sap suckering
I chuckled
the crickets responded
by rubbing their back legs together
almost like
applause

Autumn changes
    into the cold of Winter
melts around
   April winds
as long

      longer than the Summer days
endless heat
           melts the green leaves
into redder orange
  
there I am
all variety

glowing

Hues of violet
As the azure meets the reddened sun
Sparse deflated clouds
Floated quiet as into each other, the colours run

Lavender streaks
Trail far into the horizon
Tracking the sunset
As the hour struck seven

Purple gladioluses
Bowed to the evening sea breeze
As if mourning the departure
Of the day's warmth with silent pleas

The orb finally sank
Beyond my sight could reach
Disappeared from here
But rising over someone else's beach

Last dregs of light
Slowly swallowed, giving birth to indigo
This night would last long
Before the first rays of tomorrow...

I am surrounded
by silent bamboo.

There is no growl
coming from tiger's toothy grin.

A neon blue butterfly
is not at all startled
by the flying red dragon
descending from gray.

Mister Samurai and Miss Geisha
smile affectionately,
while muted love birds tweet
near  
the angry
crab-warrior.

I listen,
I listen
and I hear
the petals falling off
the chain of flowers
blaring.

I find magic in things,
in things
here.

The final blue hours of day
the falling to your sway
the mad of reason slipping away
under the pale moon, of night's dawn
with stars all strung, you'll come
so soon to taste, to kiss me
a crushing fire, to quench
to melt, to take me

When gentle breezes turn into gale,
     remember that you will prevail.

       You may tear at these pages daily,
in search of peace and tranquillity.
   Planting hope and scattering wishes,
    Spilling blood in smears and blemishes...
       Flying out of the dark on
     wings of birds.
       Bridging the rippling void through
           severed words.

                Seeking...
             Reaching...
               Imploring...
            Writing...

     Be not wary of eyes that speak.
  Be not afraid of mouths that leak.

Know that our scribbles are only
   sacred to us.
       Emotions and thoughts we
           bind and truss.

  What we put forth, we owe it to ourselves...
     Bits of us we've kept hidden in the
darkest rooms; atop the highest shelves.

You...
      are wielder of your mighty pen.
You...
      determine how far or long your
         words would span.

   Your words... They're precious gold.
Many or little; be them new or old.

So let drip your ink with little reservation...
  Let us grow from strength to strength
     as life teaches its lessons.

   Rise up and live on in these here pages,
     For here exist only
         freedom;
               not cages.

as the trees sway shedding all their leaves
a cat hides under the dark shadow of garbage
left for whoever
away goes through the black ditch
the water
carrying the fallen limbs
while
in the background golden
out of focus
glows a blue moon
just above the dark
horizon