skipping stones across the water
walking beside the ocean's daughter
listening to nature as she sings
taking in the rapture that living brings
                  
Thoughts that she
cannot unthink;
a life that she
cannot unlive.
                
Dreams she has yet to live
and a soul full of fire
looking under every stone
seeking her heart's desire
                
Afraid to see whats underneath.
We stay to the surface
afraid of the ghostly deep,
for there are shipwrecks
              
What lurks beneath at fathoms deep
will not disturb a good nights sleep
for as long as we can stay afloat
courage shall be our own lifeboat
                      
But skipping stones eventually fall
To depths they haven't ventured yet
but, that's when life begins to be lived
when we reach deeper depth
                  
Skipping stones across my mind
like those lucid dreams we hope to find
but in the end we are not alone
having reached the shore with that lucky stone*
                          
Happiness is a skipping stone

Life isn't a fairytale
but we can pretend like it is
you're never to old for fairy tales

I make smiles from shattered eyes

cry December's distracting frost

move my soul with hopeful sighs

and pray our devotion is not lost



It is the eve of renewal's glee

gave sad promises to spoon the moon

but in the haste of glass we freeze

pose with strangers who fill our room



sweat bemoans my reaching hand

your eyes are vacant with his lust

he bids the hours by your command

we smoke our feelings into dust



this boy is weak yet worships you

opens darkest gates to breed

now enter light that stirs, confused

my screaming tears unheard,unseen...



i am a wish of hearts refused,

the sound of fallen poetry...

A BOAT, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July--

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Pleased a simple tale to hear--

Long has paled that sunny sky;
Echoes fade and memories die;
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise,
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die;

Ever drifting down the stream--
Lingering in the golden gleam--
Life, what is it but a dream