Run from yourself long enough,
And you'll circle the globe and find your old self.
Probably just standing still,
Waiting for you.
Because a wise man once said,
*"It's alright to do what you want to do,
Until it's time to start doing what you're meant to do."

One day words will buy me a steak dinner.
Instead of me buying them another glass of wine.

So many poets attack with words,
With the intent to hit you on the first line.
Like a clunky sword or strand of steel,
Which couldn't so much as break through twine.

To which I would say,
That you must first name and know yourself,
Or at least your opponent,
Before you try and sway or slay them with a single line.

Such poetry would mean to me,
Little more than a stick,
In a sword fight with a gigantic tree.

Try not to aim for the heart immediately,
But approach the chest,
And hum your bladed words through the air most rhythmically.
Until an opening you do see for such an acute verse as me.

Deliver then a heavy blow,
A fatal strike.
Which will leave the readers lying in the streets,
Bleeding out of relief and not out of agony and disbelief.

The warmth and roundness of me.
Is only there due to the edges taken off by you.

No metaphor will tell it
Although I convince myself within the moment
That it will last

That the clouds above my head
The howling wind which I adore
The summer rain and the glorious morn
Will indeed last

But they never do

Because no metaphor can contain
Or stretch it over the canvas to fit
Or even begin to properly paint
This representation known as you

You simply are, as simply is
Beyond the metaphor
Within the shadow of a moonlit truth

Just let me sit neath the wild blue yonder
Brooding like coffee on a quiet thought
With eyes full of horizons
I’m found in the lost

When I am ill
I’m not numb, I hum
With radiation everywhere

Far more aware of how tall I am
And filled with ache
With stale, dull, air

It’s like a flower wilted is
It’s like a moonlit night neath clouds
It’s like I cannot feel, yet all is feeling all around

When I am ill
And feeling
Inexplicably, down

Setting sun
Waning light
Pull the string on this bursting chest

Jump until it's perfectly timed
And fly
For just a moment in hanging past

When it stirs its like a volcano
When like a geyser it does hiss
Like an atomic bomb
It tears apart the molecules of bitterness within my cup
That's where the replacements happen and meet
Dulcet and stirringly sweet
The mushroom cloud encased in liquid
Pours forth steam and radiates
The internal heat
Of coffee

Remeber when we were young?
When we thought we could light the world on fire with our tongues?
When we could lose ourselves in one another and we didn't care?
About anything...
So young
So dumb

Shocked*
By the passing’s of perfume on a winters day
Wow, not why
Because you used to wear that scent

I'm so full right now so very warm
Like a coffee cup overflowing with ideas
I cannot wait to be off this road
I cannot wait to be onward with this journey
To create again and to let my words flow
Outward and into the microphone
How I cannot help but overflow
When the questions stored up inside my mind
May be answered so I might finally know
That is why I actually wish to overflow
So that in time I might just know

Cold strings quietly
Ask for vibrance and true song
To be strummed made live
On youthful learning fingers
Tipped with determination

When the eyes see trees and not possibilities.

A future that is not beyond tomorrow.
A person instead of a lover, or another.

When all of these things, in closing eyes see...

Then ones line of sight is oriented properly.

When the sea calms after a storm, it is easier then to see.

But you should never forget what the sea is, what it's meant to be.

Just know
It’s OK
If your heart’s a thousand colors
Because my eyes have a thousand of their own

To love is to appreciate the other.

The complexities of mind and heart.

The fraying string stretched inbetween.

And the newness of each breath to start.

Stomach full of stream and sand, sometimes I sift gold.
Passing through to understand,
that fingers never hold.

Is love a fancy or a feeling or a fascination?
You tell me
Although my mind is already made
And made up like the corners of my bed sheets

Your grandparents will tell you one thing, your parents another
And the youth amidst the feeling will tell you something else entirely

You know what I think?
Do you even care?
Will anyone even hear this little thing?
That love is a decision made every day
To let go, to hold on, to cut loose, and to cat's cradle string

The same old yarn or balers twine
Which you first used to tightly wind
The cord around your loving life

You picked your husband
You chose your wife
Now chose whether or not you'll live
An ever loving daily life

My favorites are named like Midnight Rain, with Marshmallow toffee in the Skye.

Beneath Weeping Willow dreams a dream, of Elizabeth and her Squires.

Midst the Rose's Kelly is always found, neath the Sun and Princess shine.

Untill the Star's BG in the background be, glow these favoring words of mine

The moment you are most comfortable
The moment you are free
Is a lie... Or so I think

Because the next wave is on it's way
And soon you will be crashing down
Just like the wave...

Because life and love I view like this
Though most around you do not know
That they are tossing in the sea

There will always be another wave
Moving towards our solemn shores
Crashing into you and me

On a dime it turns
Vertical and sharper than any knife
Falling to one side
Suddenly
And the next thing you know
You’re not there anymore
In life

If they would dedicate a bench to me, I'd have them lay some fresh concrete, not much, just about four feet.

I'd have them place a pad and rusted seat, between the adult framing trees and paint it green.

And henceforth, it would be known as the writers bench, dedicated to all of the sights left unseen, from that particular spot to be.

But I doubt they'd waste a bench on me.

And perhaps, that spot's better left to the grass and trees.

To the living me.

A quiet, well framed, subtle spot where a man can breathe.

Everytime I write, I write to prove something to myself. To reassure me and my kind that not all of thoughts are meant to stay inside of this head, this house, this old heart of mine.

Which is not to say that my thoughts could not be better expressed in some other way. As a matter of fact in the past they have. Which is why for years they did decline and always prefered to stay inside, to enjoy the corridors of a more well known mind.

And yet every day somehow I pull my thoughts and have them placed here now. Having warned them many years ago, that one day they would have to be more... Sociable, and honest with the world about where they would like to go.

Because if you only keep your thoughts to yourself, how can those around you be expected to help? As you press and press for something else, and somehow try and prove to yourself, that you can flip your own mind inside out and share about all that you create anew.  

It is the head within the house of my heart which knows these sentiments to be true.

Cloud and water
Is a way of thinking
Of presumptive of being

Which calms the minds
Of those who see shadows
In every corner

And demons in every shadow alike
Cloud and water
And perfectly shapen sky

To the side
With mindful eyes, lax
Like the smile which always wide
Comes back

Sitting beneath the old mailbox by the railroad tracks

Trying so hard not to forget
The words inscribed
Which you promised me
In the letter that never came

You — And your quiet glow — Make me feel like a serene ripple. Like a blessed wish on a prior day.

You — And all that every human eye has seen — Scatter rippling white lights, all across this distant horizon of me.

May the shadow of the this glorious moon fall gently on a world of peace.

I love the Stars
Cold and distant burning warm on approaching day
Darker than the lover's heart once torn apart until the newfound comes
And ways present themselves

And in falling
Streaks across the sky proclaiming love of our atmosphere
With a tale of residue tagging along and just behind it's former way of life

And in our eyes seeing
A sparkle alive in this familiar, love found, way

A star entering loves atmosphere
Is what I see in the dawn of this new day

If this would unlock and unwind
Would you turn inward with me?
Just to ignore the world and all the people in it

Just for a moment
Could you forget about all that you’ve built alone?
And seemingly, be nothing with me?

And when you look and see not the front of me
Would you take it as a complement?
Not a slight

Because alone together in the silence
And within the moment that will not last
Is exactly where I always hoped we could be

Unified and most alive in the nothingness
Mirroring the moonlight back
As if we were not passive

At peace with each the other
And the un-world we create
Would you turn, unlock and look inward with me?

Reach into the nothingness
With an outstretched arm Inquisitorial
And pull a star down from the sky
A scar from the skin
Or the sight from within a strangers eye
Look and see
All the potential within that unique life
The marring and falling
The look of a life lived once alive

Shining bright
On my shoulder blades tonight
Until tomorrow is today
Would you let me stay
Wherever there is such a light

The government has it's secrets
And so do I
We all are deep and in depth creatures
Capable of living both very public
And yet very private lives

And yet every once and awhile in time
I'm astounded by what is that I find
In my own life

That I've been trying and far more confident
In the standards which I set for myself
And now that I'm there without sense of self
I no longer wish nor want to comply

Wild and untamed.
She stretches out, like a shadow from the base of a tree.
Features pale as the river shale, eyes cool and clear like the rushing stream.
A forest child with a wild streak.
Intent on keeping the forest free of pestilence.
She roams the earth, with a pack of wolves her pounding feet.
Yet she cares for all of the birds and beasts, as if they were her family.
Like a ghost so she appears to me, beyond trees.
Her Mononoke name be known, but behind the mask I'll never see.

No more shadows reign
No more the dark running waves
For they have crashed, yes
And will pass inquisitive
As no darker means will last

Source, a heartthrob life
Be thought, and alone no more
In my being caught

Park bench sitting
Hands aching
Side-by-side

As strangers ask
Quiet questions pass
Like cotton seeds

As an opportunity
The breeze
Passes us by

Blown
Shoot

I used to run across the Moherian cliffs
And jump to catch the first sunlight nether wisps
As they twinkled like dawning fireflies shone
In the jar of a hopeful wish
For as just as in your hand there mine own exists
Con·tent·edly

When I realized
That I was left to stand
There heart in hand
Tearing myself apart just to give me to you
And it wasn’t that you didn’t want me
It’s that you never truly knew

I want you back?
I openly laugh
I’d like to have you at all
Because *that would be the end of *that

Envious
Is a deep word
Meaning more than envy itself
Envious is craving your feet on the other side of the world
Where no road ends
When the same rain falls
And when all things turn inevitably
For better or worse
We are all on the same green Earth