We used to paint oceans of sorio lillies, across the sky pouring tears of life.
Merging memories of sore pasts and saw paths that revamped lost plants.
Without a seed, groomed roses and blossomed fields of dying daisies daily decaying dim.

Her kiss embellished wrathful storms,with red feathers of white birds drifting to the shore, of fine sand born from light zones in dark ends.

Now she's a ghost, a spirit of a wild mild mind in an abyss of enraged beasts. She's alive and breaths still,but her breath passes by the trees as though another leaf carried by the wind.
Is she in a coffin inside a casket buried beneath the garden of joy but only ripping despair, gloriously singing by herself?

Lefty , I can't imagine how he got his name
Always did things backwards . . . so . . . . .
I was not surprised when he up and went away

Never said why , when , or where he had to go
Now he is growing old where as they say
"Only God Knows"

What are clouds anyway ?
Water vapor in the sky ?
I think it is so much more

I think they are recycled tears
Of every broken heart that ever be
Falling to a desert below

My cactus flower
Blooming in the night
So none will see

She keeps her love close
Protected by her needles

I sit and watch her bloom
And before the sun has begun
I leave looking for lefty

And the reasons I quit
Are the excuses I choose

Between the desert and the sea
Where the cause will be
Clouds keep winking at me

The circle is broken into pieces
I speak in deserts of sand
Drown in seas of lingering waves of pain

And I have no clue where lefty went
Only remember a cactus flower blooming
Without the thorns between the two

Troublesome love . . .

will not let you sleep . . .

Sort of like a basketball game . . .

Questions are bounced mad and furiously
against the hard wood floor with only
more questions bouncing back .

Meanwhile someone is trying to steal
your dreams causing you to twist and turn distorting your image .

And you fight your way down
the court of life and toss your hopes and
dreams into the air and pray to God . . .
go in.

is drug use, obsession with chemicals to
make you feel alive, depending
on a hit to feel better, wrapping
every waking minute around obtaining them

Dangerous is this, desire with metrical
counts internet hits, surrounding
yourself with those who feel likewise,
every finger typing non-stop hymns

Realizing your audience waned one night,
goodness is getting more  plusses or hearts,
forgetting to eat anything but words
making me us them unintentionally

victims of the same chemical imbalances
I have noticed in Crack heads, **** heads
speed freaks , addicts of all kinds.

So if you see anything worthy or
turned an eye inward, don't plus this
get outside now to fresh air
share a walk with a friend,
or pet a dog.

Or find your local
chapter of Poets Anonymous.

and I strive unsuccessfully , as you will see,
to write a romantic love poem,
you know the one , the kind that rhymes with the
moon and stars

hearts and tugging strings all those metaphors
for love safe and warm like a kitten
purr, all done up in honey, dripping
from my tongue

as words come more  true from experience
sadly,
tonight I must refrain

put my pen down my earmuffs on
my short pants  on
and once again

snuggle up to
my Labrador.

Momma said I was strange growing up.
She said I ran before I could even crawl
She said I'd run, drawing on walls in the halls
She said it was a bit odd.
Then again she said she raised me alone
Single parent, emphasis on the single
So obviously I was going to be odd.

I guess that stuck with me
Because I learned love before hatred
I learned to love before I questioned trust
So deep down in my core, way in the crust
There must be something wrong with me.

I wonder on things of my past
Wondering had it lasted
Where would my life be blasted.
The shadows of the past casted
And I always long to hide back
In the shade.

I guess I'm conflicted
Between finding the shade
And finding the light
Unsure which one I've been depraved
Or whether there was one I had craved
Maybe in the light is where I belong
But what if it's a hot day
...

I guess the past
Is a flag flown at half mast,
And the shadow is illuminated
Into complete exhile.

...

Maybe the light will reveal
What I never knew about myself.
Or maybe
I'm a creature of the shadows

...