With a rain like this
That would never stop
I'd wish it not over
Again and again
That way I wouldn't have to face the sunshine
Let alone call it mine
When this need for a new life of mine
Must begin

Waiting doesn't stop with love
With responsibility, distraction, or understanding, no
We wait because we're human beings
And the "being" demands we do so

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

A slight draw
With jawbones peaked

Another day revealed

Revealed to be cold
And cold with cold
On this mountaintop

Yet no wind remains
To appeal to me

I will not yield

Crushing, beating, heart of the mountain
Encased in stone and rock enclosed
Ruby, emerald, sapphires, gold
But also bedrock veins of water
Running silently and cold

When spirits are roused
Minds set afire
And dust sent flying by the awakened feet
Hands aching for action
Not just for resistance or victory
Not for power or blood
Nor for conquest or feast
No, such hunger growls due to the inaction of man
From the settling sunlit rays of dust
From the empty corridors
From rememberance of fire being felt beneath the feet

Someday I'll be an old man
Just a note in my granddaughters calendar
And
It'll read
"Visit him"

Like an alarm clock from the old oak cabin
I wind and wait for you to find

Like a night of rest in which myself
Is nowhere to be found

Like a wishful sigh which dies out slow
As the noise is consumed by the town

So no words are like this, ever enough for me
To express my wingding down

Like a burst of grape in the eager mouth
So a sound it last is out

For the Like in me has not gone away
So much as just been pushed around, haha.

Carve the heart out from its walls
Drain the kindness from its veins
Change absolutely nothing at all
But remove the heart, and baby, it’ll die
Because the heart of that place was everything
Good and wholesome, below the sky

For she must have a more patient heart than me
To tolerate her friend as such
And to wait this long to be trusted so
But I cannot wait
I cannot walk
When no progress avails itself to me
And so I must go

There are thing you must do
And you'll always know, exactly why

And on the other side
Of the same wall

There will be residual things
Ever new to you

And the reasons for which
You will probably guess at

Though you may never know
Must you learn to abide?

Telling yourself not to not
Is not enough
It's already a thought

The truth is not at the bottom of a cup
Nor beneath the Saucer underneath

No words can hold the sacred truth
Just as two cups cannot guarantee
That two minds will ever meet

No, the truth is out there on each table
Waiting for all who would simply sip

The truth that is, the truth is this
That regardless of wherever we may be
The truth is something that simply is

Much like this coffee
Honest with a breath of heat
Or possibly even cold and sweet

Such truth is always percolating
Even if we cannot taste or see
The words of God, resting gently underneath

The sound of snow is a beautiful thing
Catch every snowflake, you could not
But the earth can
Like the marching ants in the fruitful spring
Snowflakes need not tiptoe through the house of winter
Instead, they patter a song to sing on the frozen ground
And we, as humans are helpless to stop it from falling down
With tiny little pinprick sounds
The reign of winter falls all around*

End of storm
Beginning of season

Like rain
I fall, I rest and evaporate
Over and over again
One and the same
I am like rain

If I knew
I would've done
If I'd known
I wouldn't have never ran away from it

Faith makes faces shine
Like crumpled tin sheets in the sunlight

Gives the backing of Giants
To those once considered meek

And shows one's own ability to believe
In all that ever could be

Faith brings both warmth and luminosity
To the cold, small, twisted mind of man

You dust the cobwebs
Dawn the attic
Wear the house like a flared dress
So that I can see the not so bitter end
How our world would end

And I’ll pull the nails of our old lives out
One by one until all around  
Fall the remnants of these former towns

Building homes amidst adventures is not how

Marriage is a newfound island
A purchased continent
Walk all your life and you will not find
Or know every single inch of land

Walk and walk again

The greatest trick that the devil ever played.

Was not in death or in speech to exist.

But in convincing manking that it was God who'd been made.

Deep into the evening, on such a day as this,
An unfathomable amount of whispers escape your lips.

Mostly quiet things pulled straight from the heart.
Like a shot of whiskey, honest and warm.

Like a song of time on the radio,
It's slowly in time that I must let you go.

Like a dulcet strum, so I heard your last sound.
Be it far away at the edge of town.

And yet echoing as your voice is now,
I hear both your heart and mind call out.

Begging me to whisper you free,
And remember you as you always wanted to be.

Succeed a hundred
Even a thousand times more
Only to prop up
Your former self minded life
As all will fall when we die

The most dangerous creative question, is asked not in part but entirely in sum.

Plain and simple, black listed.

"You inspire me..."

"But where do you get your ideas from?"

Don't make me risk,
The bitter end.

Don't make me try,
Though I will again.

Love is giving when you're not comfortable giving
The difficult part is both the explaining and understanding your own discomfort
Any lover can give when things are perfect
But it takes faith and trust to keep giving
And to truly understand the meaning
Behind the gift

They ask me if I’m with anyone…
If I’ve found anyone in my place of need?
Or if by chance she happened to walk on by
Down the other side of the same street
Just right past me?

To which I have always and often replied
Feigning a smile of effortless ease
That they shouldn’t worry about such things
Because my love life will stroll at whatever pace
And down whatever street that it does please

For whatever it is
You feel called to do
You choose what it is
But remember this
First consult your form of truth
And then do it for them
As do it for you

I can feel the light on my own skin, soaking into the eyes and bouncing off the cream-colored walls of old. The light, evaporating into the hours as if planned to pass gently by. And then within them accordingly. So also am I.

Found is no more where I am
No less than before the thought

In us there is this lie of nothing
Yet in something I find myself more lost

Remeber then and in being between true
The realization of what could be

Directionally guided are we when
Left is right, up is down, and I am you

The greatest feat
An idealist can conceive

Is to create existence out of nothing
To create someone out of no one

And make it up so real
That everyone accepts that it is

And desires themselves to believe
That it always was

Someday, they'll burry my grave, long after the ink and parchment have faded.

Long after my thoughts have longsince passed into the undying lands.

I just hope that my neices don't have to burry me

Which is why now I search for a new family.

Seeing he
with you together
The similarities
do not perplex
So much absolve
Me of the truth
That at least in together
you’re with someone
like me
Maybe
a little bit

Real life is neither the work nor the time spent waiting inbetween. The sacrifice or the freedom perceived. No, there is more to it now than there has ever been. Due to the congruent moments and the minutes passing. Because the real exists, not at the initial signs of belief. But at the time at which you realize that, you began long ago almost instantly.

Choose WHAT the you of yous thinks you wants
Though you will not want it all the time
On the contrary
The goal will be not to be set free from yourself
But to not question the IF within your mind

With solemn eyes I look and see,
The person I think I could be.

Not a suit nor a tie or an in between,
But a passionate man of many things.

I think, I am, I create to be,
A person who expects more of me.

Though rolled up my sleeves are not unique,
I want much more than this present me.

Who I am
And if I'm good enough
True enough to be
Should not be my concern
Because when someone wants to see you
They generally see

In due time
All is seen

I am the fire beneath the sands of time
Worn and torn into a thousand pixels
Burning bright in the last hour of daylight
Beneath the surface
I am the last step of the marathon
The breaking of the tickertape
And the blackness of the screen beneath
And at the same time
I am fire
I am all of these
Alive

I am steam from the kettle
I am the smoke from the pipe
I am the wisp upon the willow limbs
The stillness in the dead of night
The steel upon the tracks which lie
The wings on the back which flies
Like skyscrapers in the burning distant sight
I am the final swings of the scratching fight

Though storms rise on tempered seas
They stir the sand to glass
The oyster pearls
The time to pass

The crush of shells beneath warm feet
The whirr of petals above the September streets
The cooling feeling of evenings alive
The Moon over Atlantic eye
The hint of lingering sand everywhere
The smell of wicker seats in the morning air
And the scent of steaming shrimp to eat
Mouthwatering dreams and memories
And everything bread mixed by the sea
How these fragrances linger here in my everywhere
And make me want to be we again
With you in this place, still there

Dear chaos heart
Die on the edge of my orderly blade
And bleed out your malevolence
Forever depart