God, I want to be real with you, but sometimes its really hard.
Help me to let go of what I think what I know about You, my spiritual journey, and who I am.

I open myself up to you, so I may experience You in my life.

Help me cut through my own *******, so I am honest with myself.

I give thanks for my life.  Please help me to breathe deeply today, so I may be present to people that I think are "*******."  Help me to get to know them as people, and connect to them beyond what's hard about them.  I don't expect this to happen overnight, so help me to have patience as You teach me to love.

Oh yeah, and help me to love the greatest pain in the *** in my life. Me.  Help me to be compassionate and loving to myself, so I may embody Your love to others.  Thanks. Amen.

He was just an arrangement of 1s and 0s
which manifested itself into a body
on the other side of the planet

There were a three times
that he was right beside me
despite him not being there at all

First, he sat on the side of my bed
struck by a drunken haze
when he told me he loved me

Second, he came out of my closet
to keep me from crying
when I thought I lost him

And third, appeared right beside me
when I was walking back home
while the sun was wiping my tears.

I touched him on his shoulder
then he whispered
"I don't know who you are
We have never known each other."

We are taken back
We are taken back into the dreams of mortal man
We are taken back drunken and confused

Step on the broken land mine
No explosion or sound
Just wait........you heard the faint click
Oh ****!!
BOOM!!!
Distorted body and bandaged limbs

How life changes with just one step
Step over the madness of the world
Open your eyes
Then cry for what you have missed

She was young and slim and beautiful,
my first love,
with skin like licked caramel, and
always smelling, always tasting
like peach candy.  But still,
I sort of envy Bukowski his
300lb *****, the painted leviathan that
swallowed whole his virginity and
broke his bed, before falling snoring asleep
on her wide, sea-creature back, because he
probably learned more from that ugliness
than I ever learned from
beauty.

That said, I envy him more the night
the old dog buried his bone
in six separate gardens,
the dark-haired woman who
sent him a photo of  her
self
reading his book
in the  bath, and the two perfect
blonde Dutch girls his editor found on the great man's lawn
when he called by one evening,
the both of them waiting for Hank to
come home from the track
so they could **** him.

I swear I tried to keep these thoughts of you
From creeping in, but what was I to do?
Was I to **** the thoughts I can’t forget?
I’m sorry love, I can’t forget you yet.
I can’t forget the things you’ve done to me
And everything you’ve helped me learn to be.
And as you fill my thoughts and change my soul,
I start to feel a little bit more whole.
And when the clock strikes twelve, though I’m asleep,
And when I pray the Lord my soul to keep,
I swear I cannot curb these thoughts of mine
Which stray, and stray to you, but I don’t mind.
In waking hours, I feel as though I dream.
For thoughts of you are all sweet dreams to me.
And you should know I think of you always
And try as though I might, these feelings stay.

I don't want to call you, you.
I want to say your name.

You're not just a you to me.
Even though we can't be together,
I can't complain.

Even though each time we meet,
I think it rips us both apart.
You for being disloyal.
Me for my fragile heart.

Your face...
It's pure beauty.
Your jawline, smile, grace.

Your hair...
It melts through my fingers,
Whenever I'm in your embrace.

Your lips...
They seem to know me.
How they pull me closer in.

With you, being bad never felt so good.
For you, I'd always sin.

Your touch sends sparks right through me.
I wish I could have you any time.

But just like I can't force this poem...
I can't force you to be mine.

Robins scurry, heads askew
listening to an underground frequency
smooth rasp of worm skin slipping
through subterranean mazes.

The ever-changing pond
mirrors varied green and clouds
mythical beasts reflect and rest
weary from endless migration.

Eagles ride the wind
fingered wings minutely adjusting
as the current rockets them aloft
on a thermal through the blue.

The heron balanced on a spine of rock
cares only if the tiny fish
silver under the surface skin
will soon belong to him.

Each in tune effortlessly
on earth, in air
never regretting being here
or there.

While earthbound creature, I
am reconciled to a grounded fate
as winter rain lashes the edges
of my ragged, useless wings.

--------------------

When red ran from the sand.

From the depths, rose a creature quite old.
Solemn and slow, not a care to be bold
It anchored itself, and gave no expression
The strength of its shell, shook in depressions
Tall extensions: its lifeblood, its protection.
Found scattered, on its shell, in cert’n sections.

The pride of Madagascar—the creature by name—
Are Rosewood and Ebony now mangled and maimed.

--------------------

When red ran from his hand.

Trees are felled, and the humans displace:
Lemurs are losing, they can’t find their space.
Hear the creature wail, its shell echoes with grief—
The sounds of its guests, find little relief.
For its pride is valued, and cut for a price
Hard decisions made—it is life’s device.

Wooden splinters bite back trading flesh to save flesh.
Living masses are caught in our culture’s great mesh.

---------------------

When red in hand and land.

Oceans to flood, new depths to behold
Our desires to fill, balk: “Don’t let them fold!”
She tires of our, meandering session;             
Beating-out paths, to varied oppressions.
Laugh at the onslaught, of one great convection!
As humans propel, in that direction…

In all this, Gaia shrugs, naked-apes are to blame.
Fruiting, of hand and land, need-be one and the same!

---------------------

over the years,
i've collected images
of various escapades
all thrown away
when they thought
no one was looking.

i've listened to cries
hiding beneath their
ringing laughters
and tucked those tears
away in clear bottles
for safekeeping.

i've helped mend
battered hearts
& fractured souls,
then whispered comforts
about dreams & hopes.


i have done all those and more.


and now,

i want to know
if a song can rise from
the ashes of a broken life.