It is September
And this mountiantop mind
Cannot make itself up
Or make itself out of the true sight
That this warming snow exists

When I wake tomorrow, there will be no waiver. No wall or water to crest over me. When my kneck pulls my head from the pillow of bed, I will stare into the eyes of a newborn day, and challenge it with anew consistency.

Nothing...today...will stop me.

How little do I think of you?
So little that I will delete this soon,
Just to erase all living memory of you.
You deserve no such words more than two.
Forgotten now,
Forgotten are you.

I’ll be on the mountain top* with the stars around my ears. My God to lift my life filled bones, higher than every tree and stone atop the slowly turning earth.  The embodiment of bird and sky, with word filled wings to bend the wind and to cut the currents of this life.  Like the westerlies, the blueish skies and the seas my father painted in my eyes.  

And you will be in the valley below* with the same... foolish... guy.

Pity this,

But not you Miss Fish.

Pity me for the try.

If you are the dawn
Awake and alive
Then I am the moment of the day which breaks
And turns into the bitter night

My own masked by starlight
Your left alone crowned with a sparkling retina alive

It's to you that I turn
At the end of all things
When the day first began to realize its own light

We are young and alive
Ever ready to strive
Towards the hours invested within, without sight

Space...
The only thing
Between these arms which ache.

Rain...
The only falling thing
In this loveless town.

Time...
Like every passing sight
Which was meant to be felt.

And pride...
For the only thing in your life
Worth tearing down.

These are the things always abound.

The world's OK, it's the people that spoil it.

All descriptors
And ideas of self
Fade like the days spent walking
Down the path of possibly

And time
Time lasts just as surely
As it waits for no man named me

Hence why
Is the question which I ask myself
Must I try and be
When I've already become

Writers block is a state of mind

Pour yourself out
Fill your cup
And caffeinate

Don't ****
But live the time

I am not a great man
By any means
But I am
One of the many
Known as Me
A simple complexity
Far from deity
A human
Being
Me

Feel the shade refresh your mind
The sunlight as it seeks your eyes

This is when you do your best writing
When you're most awake and alive

There is nothing wrong, nothing else
There's not an instant left for thought

Find
Not

There is only that which is less of you
There is only quiet in the stillness calm

Now reach out and pull towards you
The burning truth which has always been

Shining like a Silmaril
Endless, an eternal bright

Smile
Though you can only feel the light

What do we say
To a god of death
Perched precariously high
Upon this rocky way?

Do we walk
Or flee or fight?

Either way
With the spit in its eye
We say not today
Not today

Licking the cider off my ice cubes
I'm in love with words
And the sights of you which I've yet to see

Give me quiet ambition.

Give me blank space and lines.

Give me jazz like cold coffee to cool this hot headache of mine.

Give me presence most impartial.

Give me back peace of mind.

Give me time but not too much of it.

Give me only what's mine.

Hope beyond all hope to be
Smile in earnest objectivity

Stand aside
Walk away
Drink a tall alone in stay with room for milk

And scribble furiously at me
Be it not at all

For within some distance
Far away
As a hope for me I feel called to say

Or with half an ask

That I hope though know that you're okay

You reap what you sow
Or so I’ve heard
You get what you deserve
Or so it’s been said
Well whatever it is that I certainly want
I can't speak about it
I can't even think about it inside my head
Because how could it be
Or even come true for me
As it is?
Having sown something else
Beneath a much different tree
And as it is so you see
Never once indifferency  
And the only one who could've planted it
Was me

If I'm too busy for you
I'm too busy for me
And that is unhealthy

Because perhaps in vain and vainity
We are the same?

Skilled at creating for someone else
At adapting for the US entirely

But could it be that within the entirety
That we lose the ability to see?

Like the blinders of love
Be they ever imposed
By this realization of who is me?

Perhaps we are the same indeed?
Perhaps one day you'd let me try
For you, as also you could for me?

The worst illness available to man
Is not a fever of sorts
But fame
And the expectations stored within
That he has been solved
That he has been called by his true name
Which, ironically
Is never true at all

Because it's better to live in a house of wood
It's better to build without a name inscribed
Than to be called by all
And requested at all hours of the night  
Because what then becomes of life?
When you suddenly have
All of that which you have wished for?

Your essence is simply everywhere
like the orange hue
mid afternoon in the summer sun

Your glow, your radiance, resonates clear
in the eyes of other twos and ones

I see you here, your rippling there
through everywhere I pass is you

Your family flutters through the air
such loveliness beyond radio waves of hair

Like ember essence, burning fair
you are midnight candles
your radiance is simply everywhere

No words will ever say or stay
The chilling storm
The quiet calm
Or the persistent want which cannot be reached

No
Words can only bridge those gaps
Which wish to be bridged  

Because storms give way to rampant floods
Which wash away the builders hopes
When poorly built

In such instances as these
Words are not always the best way
To build and begin again

Would it be rude of me?
At such a far proximity
To not breathe breath back into our being?

Cold and quiet as the morning
Laying still like the undisturbed sheets
Windowless without sense or feeling

Would you consider it mean?
If I chose to not let this proud chest beat?
And collapse in a time like the hills into a cavity

Just as riverous words cuts the valley sharp
And the tongue softens both pen and quill
How rude would it be if I didn’t care about our relationship lying still?

Not Mary, never Elizabeth
My Anne Elliot
Marry me
Why do you tarry
Especially when I'm not longer at sea

When a mans intent becomes one with his craft
He is not the same man so much anymore
Because the actions of a man midst passion is more
Than whatever his mindset had since set before
And his intent all along though it long since has passed
Is still willed into present
When he's one with his craft.

WANT is such a fickle thing
Worth no more than prior words
Spent unwisely in the spinning of a slot machine

Cash out while you can?
Better instead, to not play with that which you do not believe

Better yet, indeed

Behind the mask of distant past
Where the memories still mill abound

Within the frame of paper mache
Where the words, oh yes, the words can be found

Beneath the eyes, below the cheeks
Is a smile ever winding down

And I am but one such memory, perhaps
As a word once kept around

Chances are
When there's not a star in the night sky
That it's you who cannot see past the light
And the pollution you choose to allow in your eyes

Just as the stars are always there
He IS
Never far from out of sight

Though my eyes may turn
And in darkness
Try to hide

It is beneath this earthly chest
In which where, light
Will always reside

Un·ending·ly

Eventually you forget how to escape
To open the door at the back of your mind
And walk on though it
Into the new
And that is why we should value our innocence
And our children in such a way as we do

Beauty be it in the eye.

The same eye makes me wonder.

Both if and how your hair falls like this ... Most naturally.

And naturally so... If you even try?

Crosshatched in the sky

The stalling rain

Which cannot decide to be snow or not

Iconicised

In the eyes of me

Just as you'll always remember the last time

The moment before you smile and flee

Into the new storms eye

Good endings don't always metastasise

But water always begins again

And evaporates most every time

You don't have to be more than you've ever been

All you have to do is try

You know half of the worries
More than that…
ALL of the worries inside your head
Are entirely your own
And therefor are in need of one thing
OWNERSHIP if you please
For it would please you more than such constant worry
To be free of such things

Sleeping soundly on your memory now

I dream of uncollected worlds
Where young girls dance at summer weddings
And foolish men take their cars for spins and whirls

I've seen you less and less, in the headlights of happiness
My onetime escape
From you I'm free

Within the dance of newfound reflectiveness, I'm free indeed

You go to the end of the road
And you know
Immediately what's there
That is why you don't acknowledge the sign
The street
The loop
It leads nowhere

I do not know
What I mean to you
If anything
But I would like to know
I would like to know

Trapped is not a possible feeling
When you're found in the sound
Of the rain falling out
Of the sky amidst the summers cry

When you're full and brimming as the dawn
With contemplative thought
And your stomach is quenched
Your mind alive with the memory of trees unbent

Quiet as the flooding stream
Noisy as the Red Winged Blackbird
As it pecks and cackles at the Sparrows hence
Until no more can be seen

Such impossible feelings and thoughts as these
Are but a mist in the morning
Are no more disturbing
Than the raindrops rippling on a pond serene

Staring into the eyes of life

And to be not afraid of another day

Is the essence of a man most confidence

And to hold it confidently in such a way

So as not shake or waver within

Or to back away from the wall of change

But a change as it is, is a chance to remain

And to never break from your life's first gaze

There’s something majestic about where water meets rains

As body of water seemingly warmer than that of your own

As if the worlds fishbowl had been turned upside-down on a playing card

Where the warm is cold and cold is the air

And all I want to be is in and beneath

The broken, shining surface of this rippling world

Not quiet, not callous, not alone

Adjust your glasses
Ever slight
The way your shoulder turns a corner
Such a beautiful pattern, not in shirt
But within your features glowing bright  
Expressive as the newborn day
Collected as the cooling night
Adjust your glasses once again
A habitual study within sight

Having children of my own, somewhere, someday...
Will be to me, the most phenomenal distraction from self which could ever be...

It's getting better
But every time the sun sets
On another age
Another opportunity
My heart sinks
A few inches more
Deeper into my chest

Although there's nothing more to be done
I wish that such things would pass me by
And leave my heart alone at last

Although it's getting better
I wonder what will remain of me
And who I will be
If I survive to see it pass

You cannot compare yourself to them -- Be it anyone, sibling or self -- Because God cares not about the framework you desire -- Or the shape or the size of your house -- But God looks inward, with the truest intent -- So does man fail to see past the skin - Because God builds a house in the heart of all hope -- And that hope is where contentment begins.

Break the line
As the back of a mountain
To discover new ridges, peaks and valleys
Twist the water, break the fountain
And flow instead in unpredictable ways
That is what Mr. Estlin would say

Blow the whistle
Hear the rumble
Rolling in your chest

With tracks bound down
And feet locked east
These carousels a crest

Around and round
With heels of steel
And steam so deep to mist

As a southbound train
He whistles now
And his heart she travels west