~

I sat staring at the haze
Floating above the quiet field
Shrouding the distance
Falling slowly on
Blades of grass
Intertwined with the earth
Rooted depths of
Criss cross meanings
Seeking moisture
Between cracks in the soil
Reaching deeper
Not really knowing
Where they are or caring
Satisfied with just being
A part of something larger

I felt the sun on my jeans
Warm fabric clinging
Woven threads
Frayed edges and tattered hems
In patterns of durable days
Faded knees
And flapping back pockets
Stained of endless memories
Collected while walking
Following a path
Leading nowhere
And not really caring
Just happy to be
A part of something larger

I smiled and so did you
And you and you
And before I knew it
Everyone was smiling
Happily going about their day
It seems contagious
Drifting from here to there
Finding frowns flipped
Dancing across faces
Changing the mood
Of all that I could see
And now I know what it means to be
A part of something larger

priest nor sinner
just me alone on this stool,

24 oz of drool left
one pen and a full
notebook.

scribbled full by nicotine
stained fingertips
digging through an ashtray
for one last ****.

three days of ***** dishes
awaiting my attention,
(i have more spoons, so)
I peer into this CRT
looking back at me
with only one page
remaining, available, left,
to explain to the world,
how I felt.

more than we can write. erase
and unpick the seams. words tarry,
waver and leave this place, this room,

scuttle back into corners. sweep the house clean,
cross the words and know that when the time is right,
they will come again, dripping from fingers,
folded , torn, photographed in plenty.

wondered about misspelling, maybe
missed the point?

sbm.

I hate to learn that
For sure I jam your mind
But I love you
Your respect is paramount
For my case
You took all my feelings
And even if this night is long
It will end
In a crack of dawn.

As I look up, as I do every night. My thoughts,my heart are...where. I know.  Looking up to the sky. As I do. I can't help but to...think, wonder. Are they there, looking back at me ? I SO hope so

I keep losing a piece of myself every time I feel unworthy of your time,
          then I realized it’s not you, it’s me wasting my time in pleasing you.
      So I stop and pick-up the pieces of what’s left,
                  for me to move on and start caring for myself.

Your space is in the sky where there is no ground, angel.

You are the reason why earth revolves around sun.
You are the reason why all  stars flicker delicately.
You are the reason why magnolia blooms.
You are the reason why my heart opens up like confessing  man.
You are the reason why I'm standing repentant before God.
You are the reason why I paint reality with celestial watercolours.
You are the reason why breath makes port in my mouth.
You are the reason why vision of love is alive in my heart.
You are the reason why I open curious eyes in the morning.
You are the reason why flowers near extinction are worth saving.
You are the reason why my thoughts become crystalline.
You are the reason why torrential rain falls after airless weather.
You are the reason why I hear quietly sneaking answers to nagging questions.
You are the reason why opus of birth of love plays in my head.

Your sinister indifference cauterizes sore wounds in my heart.
I would give you my soul with everything I possess.
I have never even touched your fragile hands, your impatient lips.

Will you open like rose petals together with sun wandering horizon?

Everyone is in a mood
Happier when unhappy
At home in wistful, lamenting desire
Everyone is emotional
Though we truly are emotion
Everyone has a reason
To feel what they feel
And some of us
Feel what we feel
Feel what they feel
Feel what we would feel
Feel what they should feel
Feel what we want them to feel
It is those of us who can feel to the extreme
Who can fill up a universe with tears, bleeding hearts, and love
Yes, it is the few who can find the beauty in pain
The joy in sadness
The comfort in the last wistful breeze of the season
The rare few who are gifted with depth of emotion
It is those who we call poets