You made me believe in past-lives..
because there's no way in heaven our connections this new...

The passion & the chemistry, &the; synchronicity of journeys, simply couldn't have been born out of the blue...


On such short notice you alleviated my grievances, believing in my flaws and accepting my thought patterns. .  .

I told her baby. I know you don't like rings. But if I had the power to give you the world,..i'd give you the whole, Saturn.


She said, "Silly, i don't want a world.. that isn't enough. I just a want a world with you in it, even if it comes with storms."

But the minutes turn to hours, the hours turn to minutes. Laws of physics say something started must finish, or transform."


Like the river, on a clear night when the moon tickles the surface, looking beautiful till somebody decides to skip rocks..

The universe itself on the tip of my lower lip was the exact sensation i felt when our lips locked..

Perhaps we were married in our past life.
Maybe we'll have children in the next one.
but in this time and space presently?...

She decided to call it quits,
Broken heart. But; I can never hate someone who makes me feel heavenly.

So, I'll await lifetimes...
For the day she comes back, and if she never returns I will never complain..

Because she was heaven sent, an angel, a blessing. I'm honored to have even known her by name.

Though she quit on us..
i must say if only she knew.

The realest words ill ever speak are,
I love you, too.



-afj.

Clouds flat as pancakes line the sky
hovering over rivers and lakes,
roaming across prairies and bluffs
Seasoned with a bitter sweetness.

Some trees less lively than others,
Some blaze with a unique aura.
Wild reeds and wild weeds ride the wind--
Brown and rusted like train track bolts.

Signs for a woodshop boutique lead
down a road prancing deer wander.
Sun rays hint shades of light through cracks
Revealing a scene to be seen.

The red, the orange, the yellow-green.
Brown, sleeping stalks of corn in rows
And the scare crow standing tall in
The middle, still in nights silence.

Lifeless leaves falling to the ground
Leave colored murals on footpaths
Soon to be covered with sheets of
Snow as nature prepares to sleep.

She was laid to rest in May
in a small cemetery in a small town.
She was ninety nine and a half.
She was my grandmother.

Looking back I remember.
I would stay at her house
in the summer.
It would take me away
from the pains of home.

We would play games
or go to the movies.
She would take me bowling
each night I stayed, it was our thing.

The next morning, I could hear
bacon sizzling from my room.
She made scrambled eggs, bacon,  fresh squeezed orange juice and pancakes.

She was my light away from the dark. She took my pain away. She eased my worries like no other. She was my grandmother.

If I could have one wish right now in the world.  It would be to have more pancakes with my grandmother.

Hit rock bottom.
My lungs burn.
Cold steel jungle.
Never did learn.

Ink on the arm.
Stories do tell.
Life behind bars.
Sure is hell.

Many empty nights.
Lost in my dream.
One last tear.
In silence do I scream.

Walking in somber.
Bitten by tragedy.
Finding the fault.
Death of the comedy

Leaving my print.
Sad words to say.
Film on the floor.
Gone another day.

I plucked a tiny flower from the verge at the side of the lane.
It was so delicate.
It looked so lonely, sitting there all alone.
I stuck it under the edge of my collar.
Attached alongside my remembrance day poppy.
I heard the hooves of the the day bays horses's shoes clicking and clacking into the morning.
I witnessed the lone rider, hair in a net ******* under her hat.
I smelled the exceptional air.
No vehicles passed through this place.
So very quiet.
The field laid upon the left hand side looked so inviting.
Maybe I'd walk over it on my way back home.

Got back into my house.
Reviewed my flowers.
The bright red memorial.
It poppy triggered more emotion than the tiny roadside treat.
I pressed my little roadside flower in the middle of a poetry book.
Between the pages laced with guilt,  I stole it's life away.
My tiny paper poppy will fall into the bin.
Next year, a  beautiful fresh one will be reborn of pure love.
Acknowledge the soldiers, acknowledge the flowers.
(C) Livvi

Halfway dead.
Awoken at the end of my week.
A day off sprinkled with many missing moments  sleep.
Feeling, yes I am.
Feeling just a little hazy.
I have a weekend of brain burning learning.
I can almost feel those cogs clicking and whirring.
It's  all very novel, but I'm not writing it as one just yet.
I think I like it, but it's such an endeavour.
Once upon a time I thought I was a little clever.
Now I realise little is the only truth I speak.
I will learn.
I have faith in me, but just a tiny doubt's outstanding.
(C) Livvi

The spirits of the dead.
They're fleeced as naked sheep.
They hang cold and desperate.
Howling over desolate isolated moorland.
Screaming on the gale.
The linger just a moment, where man nor beast exist.
This ethereal racket, caused by the sharp and biting gorse bush.
It's scratching wounds, deep into grey shadows,
Left overs of spoiled souls.
(C) Livvi

And she sank into your eyes.
A transfixed fixture captured in the dark.
A camera image.
Stored in an antiquated box camera.
Locked away.
Awaiting revelation.

A chimera, maybe a feature of a potent imagination.
She's prowling through the shadowy lands.
In the contorted universal time.

He knows she's there.
She haunts his heart and feeds his mind.
Almost feels it.
He feels her very being, she feels him without pain sensation.
She feeds him emotion from a dessert spoon.
Just because she's sweet.
He holds her tight in his darkest moments.
And yet she saw him crying.
A child without a handkerchief.
Wipe your eyes sweet heart, she smiles.
She is waiting.
(C) Livvi

I've made a deal with the devil
Signed in blood I gave him my soul
With each passing day my life unfolds
I wake to serve, to fulfill his deeds
My twisted words cut others with ease
What choice do I have when that's all that I know?
I play with your head until you grow old
With the devil on your shoulders
I stand blindly in a trance
Knowing those were my orders
I send you a glance
I Brighten your day
Am I a normal person?
Who's to say?

Is there anyone there anymore?
For I have gone blind with things once said
and I cannot pass myself to see
clearly into the mist
with eyes wide open.