Your eyes,

                      they're a sensational
            how                                     shade
  I love                                                        of hazel,
                                         i  r
With a mystic orange   c       c   outlining the pupil.
                                         e  l
Reminds                                                      sun­set.
                  me                         Caribbean
                              of      a

Not that I have the slightest idea, cause
I haven't been there, or anywhere near.
But, suppose anything's possible
in your Vanilla Dream Land ...

My parents' worst nightmare,
becoming my most enchanted dream...

       A
    (0_0)  
       B
    h O i
w    Y      te
      i  e  
   r       n
f             d

I asked him
                    the old one
how to  t-r-a-c-k and trap
find
      fine  
             l    i    n    e    s
                                      in fresh dirt
                                                          s ­  i   f   t    through the carrion
                                                         ­ they did not devour
                                                          ­                                  s   m   e   l   l    the droppings
                                                                ­                            to know even more
                                                            ­                                of their sacred work

even with his eyes closed
                                          he knew
                                                         but did not say
                                                         that I am among
                                                         the lazy learned
                                                         ­ who did not see
                                                                ­                    the p-r-i-n-t-s
                                                                ­                    I leave,
                                                                ­                    and the ones I read
                                                            ­                        are also
                                                                ­                    t-r-a-c-k-s
                                 ­                                                              that may lead
                                                                ­                                               to traps

Like a rag doll in the rain
Your love, hence, purpose is gone
Now your forced to endure the pain
As you realize you were just a pawn

In your story this was the great love
In his you were just a bit part
As insignificant as an old glove
He tears out your still beating heart

The
  ants
    came
       today
          Through
              the always
                  hiding crack
                    Lurking unknown till
                      already on her back
                         Marching steady towards her heart
                        their regular attempt to tear her apart
                       The unannounced guest
                      Here to steal leftover happiness
                    Happiness that would hold her over
                  Turned to crumbs eaten away till she was numb
               She could list them off by name
               Knowing exactly who to blame for the excruciating pain
               There was Rejection, Frustration, Unmet Expectations,
                Helplessness, Worthlessness, and her favorite Loneliness
                        They’re never quick to leave
                                  hiding underneath
                                           her sleeve
                                                For one last go
                                                        at her heart
                                                             before they
                                                                          truly
                                                           ­                    did
                                         ­                                            d e   p     a       r         t

life is like jazz
                 sometimes all you can do
                                                          is improvise
                                      based on                            the template you know
                                                 doing the best                               you can
                                                 going with the                              flow                          of life.

musical notes                         blending
                                                                                                         into one,
                       sometimes      blaring into                                    cacophony               of sound.

time  breaks
                                   down to a single moment
                         becomes                         infinite
                         free         of                     perception


                                                    ­             breathe   deep
                                                  
         ­                                                        breathe free of worries

                                                        ­                                                           in

                                                                ­                                                  and


                                                              ­                                                     out

                                                            ­                                                                
­                                            silence breaks into silence
                                            movement becomes stillness
                                                silence­ and stillness
                                                       ­     merge
                                                      ­        into
  
                                                                ­o
                                                               ­ n
                                                              ­  e

From the world
the list of things
                                                          ­                                I
want is endless
from our friendship
it is just as long
from both I learned the need to
                                                              ­                         love
from the world
the simple things
and from
                                                            ­                           you
all the complexities
both taught me
the list of things
                                                                ­                     I want
is much longer
than what I need
from the world
I learned I need
    water
    food
    shelter
and from
                                                            ­                          you
    patience
    kindness
    under­standing
I have come
                                                                ­                   to love
both for their simple ways
and complexities,
for their lessons taught,
and those I have yet to learn
I hope that both
can learn from
                                                            ­                      me too

Yea, thou needest nay at a loss to be.
That's the way of milk-and-honey people,
Whose flirting feet are set to flee
The instance one's riches out fizzle.

For many a friend ***** and even family
Will forsake, leaving thee alone to deal
With and wax fat in the deep bowl of poverty,
At the turn of rotary fortune's wheel.

just for today
                        i am happy,  joyous and free
                                                            ­            to
                                                  ­                          feel.
                                 ­                                                 no past demons to haunt me
          
                                                   ­                                                                 ­               no anxiety about the future

i take little steps into freedom
                     into
                     joy
                     and
                    presence

                               ­                                         its all a gift
                                                      life with all its joys and sadness
                                                         ­      teaches me how to
                                                              ­              love

There I was, drunk behind the wheel
Seeing where I was and wishing I was further
Blabbering thoughts and ideas I steal
That whisper in the ear of some forgotten parents daughter

Well, I'm the devil in disguise.
Say, "We all are at times" and
As long as it rhymes
Then it all sounds good.

I can see the worlds demise
In that same daughters eyes who
Watches TV and cries
I can't be like I should.

Like life etched down in screenwriters heads
Who think perfect perfection and leave naught lost.
Who lead all of Verona to houses and beds
And untangle ley lines of lovers star-crossed

Instead there's no order
No place to fall in
It's just drunken, splendid squalor
Without and within