We all vibrate at different frequencies of speed
Exerting different energies which cause a difference in needs
Necessities that matter like atoms hidden beneath
Range from molecule to Saturn on an infinite degree

Waves collide with others causing ripples in between
Blending fusion with illusion, then division in our genes
Editing a code that's impossible to delete
We evolve the grand scheme with every thought to be unique

Crispy paper
Brittle pen
Where to start
Where to begin
Grain of gold
On blue ink bend
Sell for mold
A shackled stench.
Taking racks
Of ruby trays
Alas of now
Good coming day
Shortened phase
Scratched in dye
The color crimson
Of poesys side.

Ever had love taken away from you?
Ever had breath but could not breathe?
Ever had fools take away something valuable to you?
Ever had something so big that was swiped away from you in an hour?
Ever felt so lonely that you felt like you didn't have anyone?
Ever miss the kisses and the warm embrace you've felt?
Ever miss the sunshine and you wake up to not see your love?

~~
Away A Spring comes
Through the windows of the old
Where yet I see the past times of gold
Though I could mention
Still takes some times to
Get out of detention
Of all those values of drowning dreams
Though everything passing with trims

Either Come back again
As any other forms
In the horizon of the Wren Drongo, Myna
In the Sparkling bright days
As if red flamboyant of lost Spring
That only Says a beautiful String

But yet the dried leaves are floating
In the water of Calm Lake
Where yet I'm passing a fake
Within the game of light and shadow
While Love wearing a mystic mask
That confesses me too many tasks
Bright and dark moving with cradle

Forbidden to go near
That I Couldn't bear
Flood tide in the river
Full moon broken with eight pieces
In the silver light her silhouette stands on the shore
Behind I see the closed door
In the known Seasons of moon
Century's sigh as if an elusive tune

If slowly lost all
Put those dreams here again
Even I couldn't leave any pain
But the rainy season can be washed
Saltwater of eyes
I try to feel the bliss
Away, will return the golden
Days of Summer  
Off course there will be
Something on the bottom
Love will come on the
Cloud's raft of Autumn
Away, A Spring being a call of beckoning
~~

Rance is eating in a restaurant when he sees a girl ,obviously hitchhiking, get out of the car, carrying a guitar case and then coming to the restaurant. As he's leaving he tells the waitress to buy her  a hamburger because all she asked for was water . Then he goes out to his van
            ---------      ++ -------- ++     ----------    
The guy with the large helium balloon floating over his head was saying something as he closed the distance between us on this crowded bustling Street. The people, for some reason, kept raising their faces to stare at me with lonely ,beseeching  eyes as they scurried by ,then instantly dropping their gaze back to the ground as they quickly continued on.
    " State of my..... state of my ....state of my head....".said the balloon man as he drew near me and I couldn't help wondering why the words weren't appearing in the balloon that bounded along ,dancing chaotically, in lock-step to the dance-like movement of his pace "state of my head ."  
    Unlike the other people who passed by, he never looked at me -in fact- he didn't seem to notice anything except the zone right in front of his next step .  
       "You're legs on fire!"
     "I could still hear the echo of his chant as it, and him, bebopped into the obscurity of the distance, suddenly becoming aware of the barren and empty street , and the fire that was burning my right thigh.
    "Your leg's on fire"  now these words did appear in symbolic cartoon measure across the face of the balloon. "Hey!"I  cried out and then heard the echo of the words as they came sailing back.
   "Hey!"
    "Finally waking up I see" continued the echo as it became a soft laughter-filled sound to my ears.
     Slowly I was  becoming aware that my vision was filling in with the world outside the windshield of my van. The last stanza of Shinedowns state of my head was just fading from the radio as.....
    "Thanks for the burger"
My leg WAS on fire. Okay , it wasnt really,but it was burning above the knee of my right leg from the sunlight streaming through the windshield.      
  I was busy patting out the fire and rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I heard the voice again "Hello?"
     Now though, it was a real voice ,as it came sailing through the window of my van. A female voice.
     A bit slow maybe, but I was finally beginning to catch up, so I knew before I even looked, that it was the girl with the guitar case.
    It was. As I peered over the door frame I saw that she was sitting three feet from the van, on a patch of grass and leaning back against the big oak that grew at the edge of the parking lot and had provided a nice shade for storm ....okay and for my nap.        
     Surely the crooked -and haltingly, embarrassment driven - smile that I managed to conjure up ,as I looked out the window and down at her, was totally inadequate.  I was attempting to move past it , so with great confidence ,and sua da vi I heard my words as I said.
   "Huh? "  oh god !My brain said to my inner voice "really smooth" --- my inner voice took the fifth.  
     "That's a heck of a watch dog you've  got " she said.  Somehow breaking the ice  and allowing me space and time to regroup. " He told me he was there , aware and in charge as I approached your window,but he did it by just raising his eyes and the slightest rumbling growl. It was obvious he was serious but he was so cool about it"      
   I reached ,almost ,unconsciously, to stroke Storms muzzle and the furrow between his ears. "Yeah, " I said " He's got style alright." as more than a bit of pride tinged my words.
    Her laughter was sudden and as free as a wild bird being released from the confines of a cage as it rose up into the air.It was one of those beautiful,,natural
voices of those rare people who are not embarrassed by their own spontaneity.
   "Style " she managed to exclaim among the peals of joy " I love that"
     " Hi" I told her " I'm Rance and my stylin friend is Stormy"
      Her movements were quick, agile and graceful as she bounded to her feet , quickly wiping any perceived dust from her right palm across the hip area of her jeans before reaching out to shake hands.  "I'm Penelope Woods , but everyone back home just called me Piney"
     Now it was my time to laugh. A slight chuckle accompanied my hand as  I reached out to collect hers . " Piney Woods ...now that funny. "
    " Why ,thank you kind sir " she exclaimed with the exaggerated imitation of southern gentellity " I've always thought so"  then that freebird laughter , again came rising up ,to float over and then slide all the way down into the hollow,unused places of my heart . Settling there as though it were home......Maybe it was.

She was a star a
long, long time ago
in one of those travelling
rodeos.

I remember her now and then
in the felt tip of an old blue pen
and scribble her name.

Rejection
is my
crucifixion.
too.

Echoes from within-
The constant ripples of these calming echoes have become my own kind of serenity.
I feel as if I am walking under water, the angel of death has struck me with his intoxicating arrow.
When these unknown echoes bounce off the invisible walls that surround me I am able to stop time.
I move to the rhythm of this darkness, sway to the tempo of the echoes that have invaded me for so long. Hell this isn’t a cold war no more. .  I reminisce over the day I made my choice. The day I was saved by these unknown echoes, the day I received this freedom that has me enslaved.

As I walked down the aisle, my shadow comforts me. I look back and smile. At least someone stayed behind.
I stood at the altar, my bare feet adorning the cold floor. Taking in all of what I deserved, nothing.
I stood at the cold altar, looking death in the face as I said my vows; I pledged my life, confessed my eternal love.  As I engraved death’s name across my chest, my empty hallow chest.

My long walk to freedom is an infinite road, a deadly labyrinth that has me going in circles.
These cold metals hold me in my right place, like gravity they hold me down, down where I belong.
As these chains cut deep into my skin, I feel a bit of relief. I still appreciate the pain that never left me.
I am filled with gratitude as this sharp razor blade embraces my flawless skin, as I receive the only love I’ve ever known.
This is the kind of love that fills me with uttermost joy, love that life could not give me.
As this sharp blade carves into my pale skin I drift into my happy place, my safe place.
The clinking sound of the cold metals sinking into my skin sends me on a rampage inside this comforting cage. If I don’t have these echoes I have nothing!

As the spotlight focuses on me, I can’t help but disappear into the background.
I am dead beat from chasing these shadows that deprecate me into nothing.
I see my pain bouncing off these walls like relentless echoes that end up in this empty space.
As this red liquid drips and dances to the rhythm of my empty beating chest I curse the darkness that gave birth to me.
This deep dark dripping liquid, matches the pulse of these echoes that surround me, these unknown echoes.
As I stand on top of this mountain that amounts to the sins against me: cases against my innocent tainted blood I can’t help but scream. I question the shadows that surround me I summon the death that gave birth to me, but what I hear are echoes of my own voice.

As this deep dark red liquid drips from my wrist I feel at ease. I feel as though I have paid the universe. I hope to lose myself in time, in space like the resonance that suffocates me.
I hope that this deep dark red pool that I lay in will help me float into the sunset. Award me the freedom I long begged for. I am tired of chipping bits of my dark soul in order to fit the picture, tired of the weight of the world on my shoulders, tired of chasing the fast spotlight. What I have, what I own, what I know are these echoes from within me, echoes unknown.

its the letting go
the space freedom needs
to work its magic in your soul