Hope visits at every hour
Quietly perched at your window
And take flight with your ambitions
Only when you open your heart
Hope infused with trust, gives wings
And takes off beyond the boundaries
Reach heights of success and happiness
Open the window of your soul
And pray for hope to visit every time

Let me know when your at the sea ,
And we will hold hands together
When the waves try to get to you
I'll absorb them into my chest
While you protect yourself behind me .

Let our lips whisper underwater
The ripples our messengers
Take our stories to the other ends
Sweetheart there's a world beneath
Where the sun sleeps in the oceans' cradle

At sea there is a calmness I tell you
Where the haziness of the heart
Will flow away
When we leave our footprints on the sands
The sea carries them away
And frames them for the creatures to see
That yes !there are some stories written on her ***** forever to be

As days blur,
I see the pattern...
Grazing, sealing, purifying.
All that is hideous.
To make it seem beautiful.

I hide,
Behind a mask,
A shell..
A force field.

What seems beautiful,
Isn't true for the beast.

The Beast,
That is hideous.
When she's angry.

So as the pattern lays flat,
These days turn into weeks,
Weeks turn to months.
Months turn to years..

Not a lifeline goes by,
When a monster is involved.

And when it's involved,
It seems the sands of time,
Are frozen still.
Even in the wasteland,
Of Hell..

Rolling over with desire
Lay neath the fuchsia petals

Morning sun sets ablaze
Your cinnamon hair let down

He wonders how ? that ,
That perfect porcelain face caged  him ?
When he has painted it

The fragrance he can't sense
Becomes his captor .

He stroked those almond eyes
With the dark of the night

She lay in his picture , his muse
Like aphrodite herself came alive on his canvas

Wishing he could just lay there
He curses saying ....
He's just an artist and he'll find another muse !

I promised myself I wouldn't drink
This morning, but
Ring of Fire was playing on the
Radio as I showered.

I guess we shared some demons, J.
Well, here's to us. To how
My father played your songs
For me when only my mother's

Skin and bones were between us.
Here's to you and me, John.
How I cried when June passed, but
Drank to your joining her. To

How you boom-chika-boomed to
The taste of the ice cold beer on her
Warm lips in New Orleans
As we stopped among the piles of

Katrina rubble just to take it all in
(Including each other);
That we were there. Together.
Here's to you, John. To how Rick

Rubin was a prophet sharing your light
One last time with the humble masses
Before it went out. As it should be. As it
**** well should be. To

How my father loved you his whole life
And never got to shake your hand
(But I brought him to meet Willie,
Which was almost as intense to the old man.)

No rest for the wicked, John. So I'll
Never pray that you rest in peace.
I pray that you rock on -June at your
Side- Going to Jackson, when it's

Springtime in Alaska. Remembering
Forks wedged in the walls of San Quentin
And gritty glasses of water served.
I'm putting on my black shirt after

This drink. Then guitar, boots that could
Kick out the foot lights at the Grand Ole,
And an attitude I've adopted with honor.
Here's to us, John.

Walking the
God-
******
Line.