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

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

My soul was not born
For you in the interest of
When you come to me

When your hand reaches, grasping mine
It's like I'm pulled through the ice on the pond my own imagination

With fingers waking
I fall from the clouds without landing
And return to the wandering desertless streams

Until you squeeze again
I forget who I am

If I up and died today
Would anyone know?
About the archives stored away?
About the words which I've locked away?
And if I died on such a day
Would anyone ever find a way
To link me back to those former days?
To hear the words I once did say?
If I were to die this present day
Would you find me here along your way?

Trap me not in these
My old memories of mind
They are less than I

When I listen to jazz
Hot like seeping tea
As it cools like coffee directly in front of me

All I see is the ocean
All I hear is the swishing sound of the sand being turned to glass
Beneath the feet of an unwalking rhythm

Unwaking and amiss
Good jazz doesn’t walk a straight line as this
It’s a drunken rhythm and a deep sip
In love with the indescribable, naturural, eternal bliss

My heart is in the shadows,
Though my eyes are on the sky.

Full of light, aware of darkness,
Amidst these hallways where I hide.

Behind the walls and whitewashed doors,
My alter ego the other side.

A phantom man I have ignored,
A different person I've entwined.

A gentle guy who gives you things,
The grounded soul which yearns to fly.

And though the shadows slowly seep,
It's here they meet and coincide.

To form the future and the present,
To sort the truth and dispel lies.

Because in the shadows I've risen,
But in the light is where I'll rise.

Emptiness
Is having held once before
And having time alone
Say no more

Holding For You

I dare not breathe
I dare not hope
I dare not try and be
Any less content with this now
To be any less jumping up and down
Would not be true to me

This morning
Grey thunderclouds
Fell on my morning horizon of hope
And I, half asleep still
Could hardly note anything
Less than try

So I did

Beyond the borders of this humble kingdom
You are living live
Breathing deep as the morning dew
And settling into the starry sky

Most beautiful, wonderful, glorious you
In awe are my eyes ever found alive
By the distant singularity which is new
And blinding as your sudden sight

Give me the ocean
Or not a single drop

Give me time
Or not even a moment to stop

Give me every glimmering evening star
Or none at all

Give me fire from my finger tips
Or no more sparks left to fall

Give me everything or none at all
Give me all of you before I fall

Uncomfortable
Be it called by my own name
I must reply now
Not in haste or anger still
But in active truth most kind

In the quiet hour
With three am alive and well
In the background close behind

I hear it now, as you spoke to me
Going on long ago
In a voice heard only in mind

And the memory somehow
I now know more intimately
Fondly, as if it was yesterday

Because memories and decisions
In the early morning light
Make more sense at that time

If I vanish
If I fly
And do not return to such a height
Know me here
And that I tried
Endlessly to express the un at the edge of life

There is no peace

When you find yourself
Persuing sleep
As if it were non-exsistance

There is no rest
In such restlessness of spirit

My childhood
Born and died on a hook called quietness
In the stillness growing with contemplative reverence
Until meadow flowers and cattails calm
Burst forth with artistic being again
And now, having been adopted and reborn on the same mountain breeze
My perspective has changed me entirely
To adopt the sun as quite my own
And in moonlight see, to forgive the Father
For as dirt is dead and dies eternally
So the seed breaths quietly, living on in life and death
To reflect the stillwaters on the aspiring breeze
It ends as it began
Quietly

When you find it
Put your finger on it
And press it down on the table before you
All you want is it, over and over again
For that present moment of non-suffering
To continue on
And to never end

In the crook, in the valley
Find me lost within your bliss
With contented countenance
And satisfactory feeling of infinite rest
Found on me
Find me none the less impressed
Regardless of height or extent
For I am lost in bliss and blissfulness
In you

One of these days the world will wake up
And I won't be in her bed anymore
Stroll through the earths kitchen commonly
To no blueberry sounds or pancake feelings flat
And then just like that
She'll know and know
That I'm nothing like her
And so this morning
I go

I'm fighting against my heart
In secret
I know it to be true
That I could just show up
At your door
And kiss
But no
That wouldn't be fair to either of us
Especially you

Kindness knows no end
Until the trust is destroyed
And remains no will

Does quality know that it's quality?

Does a thoroughbred know it's a winner?

Do the chance-less still stand, for a chance at all?

Can the redeemed ever not know their redeemer?

Though you cast all your peals before swine, do they care?

Will we think fore we trample our friends?

Can you count all the birds in the bushes as if caged?

Just as man counts the days till the end?

No matter how many doors or windows or walls or structures may stand to fall, on the growing wasteland of this Earth.

It's refreshing to know that it all will end, and that with that end, there is no real difference between the unearthed and earthed.

There is only the idea of time beneath it all.

Find him in a corner seat
With a present step and a mind set away
With a drink not to define the style of man
But to open his eyes to another day
With a furious scribble from a gifted pen
How he carves a stone for a future day
An enscription for only the eyes of her
At a coffee shop he chips away

Lingering at a window
Keeps the world at bay
No more
Than a miniature globe on a downward *****
Close the window
Slip away

Grass browned and cut with a chawing cud
Fat and round with a sun burnt down

Unlike me

Not a one of them knows a breath of Frost
Or has ever weighed over an ounce of Cummings evenly

No

We are different makers, different means
With different paths to guided completely differently

And thank God for that
And this preferential me

As subconscious is in mind on earth
So also is this resting deep
Like a wish embedded within a dream
The kind of thing you can't wake up from
And don't want to
Such mountains are too glaringly big to be seen

I do not worship nothing
Because it's the opposite of something
Instead I find only slight praise in those moments
When a quiet something new emerges
From what I perceive to be
But probably isn't
Nothing at all

Create for yourself
The life you most want
And live it out now
Before it's too late

Admit what is true
About yourself
And embrace it now
So that you can escape

Into goodness of this
Your future at present
Would you breathe it in now?
Your unscripted fate

A heart can beat
Without oxygen
For a minute
Starlight gleam
For an eternity seem
A gander can fly
Across the open sky
Till it's out of sight
And yet noone can reach you
Noone even tries
Because even fools recognize
The unobtainable
Untouchable height
That is your virtuous value
In my eyes

And then suddenly
With tremendous presence born
New territories
Open up to your old self
To be shared excitedly

The most distant hope
Of mine
Is you
...
And that
When she turns around
No one is someone I’ve yet to know
!
Who is looking for me
As I am looking at you
?

And then suddenly you are there
And someone has come out of nowhere
And changed your life
For better or for worse
You are changed…but not me

It's like the air molecules in front of you
Are split by the hands of a nether being
And torn apart
As a new world opens up to you in an instant together
Never again to be closed and then
Never again to be one singular heart

First word a dart
Second and third Lego parts
Pieced together until the bridge is built
Until the nothingness is captured in the still
And held there in midair
As you jump the mid embrace of somber quill
And I
The hand to hold it still

Love is in the swell of the trees, the subtle breeze,
Which for all of its might cannot be seen.

It is love which shifts the steady feet, of the traveler.
And moves in ways unbeknownst to me.

It is love which propels the honey bee, across the field,
And back to the comb of bitter sweet.

It is love which seeps through the autumn leaves, and tumbles down.
Like the leaves before in the autumn breeze.

Tell me softly not to breathe
And it will be so
Long before I could stop creating this
The world in which I would like to be seen

And if you tell me something similar to this
"Write something for me"
Then all inspiration from me will flow
Away and from my pen it will flee

I had a thought
the other day
(in the shower).

And we
(in our fooling around)
both slipped and fell
on a bar of soap
called reality.

Painfully fun it was.

Radiance is not
Merely the sand or sea breeze
But you there at ease

Declarative me, saying what I was
With a question inbetween

Feeling better as if I'd breathed again
In the quiet stillness of unthinking

In such words I lose myself for a min
Until hours catch up and overtake me

As if questioning what I was and then
Sets me free to begin and be

This is how I tend to write and then
This is why, it's is not, and for me

Closing eyes to remain alive
No breath remains intact
With open mind over Pacific ends
No Atlantic hope will last

When I think about it. Like the dawn forgotten. Such feelings begin before we're even aware of them. Grow before we can even control them. And usually break before we could begin to explain them. Steadily forward and with a vision of hope, we all flow and have feelings floating around in our heads. Well most.