She is everything I wish to be mine
I can attest to the aptitude of her body
Like the wave of her hair as she passes by
But I've yet to confirm the hope within
That being her true lovelliness of mind

Remember when a woman’s walk
Her poise and chance
And most importantly, her ability to dance
Is what drew her outline and intrigued
Every able bodied man
Single or not
To look at her
To wish to offer her a hand
And yet as I am
An able bodied modern man
I hate who I am
Not because I can, but because I cannot dance
Half so well as I like to think I can
But perhaps…
Under the right circumstances
If I could see the shooting star before it descends
And ultimately lands
I would possibly
Almost definitely
Try and practice dancing again

My temples ache inside my head
With a need to be without a thought
No one to speak what cannot be said
My quiet calm forget me not

A storm I carry on my back
Midst howling gale and winters plot
A weighted mass atop me sits
An eerie calm forget me not

A flame of hope inside I keep
To thaw that frozen long forgot
Until the first light left is last
A chilling calm forget me not

Though slowly do the seasons pass
These words embed like branded hot
So be it present or in past
Remember still and *forget me not

It’s a quiet town just waiting to be
Infatuated with you

Someday I'll play this song for you
Someplace where only you will hear
And only we will see
Appearing suddenly as a mountain fog in the morning Spring
And you'll know the breadth of my thought breathed for you
The gifts I once created too
Long before we were we

Like a forest breath
Breathe out with me
With a gentle hiss

As you cup your hands
Hear the hallow hall  
And the hushing kiss

Breathe out with me
Into wooded abyss
This breathy mist

Breathe out with me
Breathe out with me
This breathing Mist

I'm waiting in a dark room
When it would be brighter just outside
I speak and sing, but sound nothing like a tune
And I hope that my ears, and especially my eyes
Never fully adjust to this life of mine

Because I am waiting on the receiving end
Of an empty and uncertain line
Like a phone cord wrapped around my wrist
I tell myself that it’s no crime
To wait for what I hope would be mine

Debt is a weight upon my chest,
Which pulls me back into the depths of consciousness.
Like an undertow of unwanted stress.
Be it car, or loan, or home, it's debt,
Which remind me of what I've done best,
Which is guess that the money I've chose to invest,
Is the money which put my name top of the test.
In a classroom I sit and assess my progress with the rest,
Who all just like myself put their names top the test.
In my car which I drive I feel like I’ve progressed,
When in truth plastic cards might just leave me a mess.
In a house with my wife one day I will recess,  
Even when the bank owns my own years to invest.
What is best, who decides how much our children invest?
In their future, their savings, their sheer happiness?
Is it just them or us?
Have we taken such tests?
What is best?
An experience?
Because those we possess.
Heck I have them myself when I'm home and half dressed.
In the kitchen at midnight, that's where I invest best.
But I digress.
Flip the desk.
Now I'm the one giving the test.
I'm a grown man, a graduate, what will I tell the rest,
Of the youth of tomorrow who are looking for zest?
What is best?
Don't ask me.
I was never one for tests.
Although yes I have used, this instrument known as debt.
The results can be devastating, if you don’t know what’s best.

You think I'm used to being me?
You think I'm comfortable in these shoes?
Walking time and time again,
Down that old hallway, without you?

Well I'm not.
But ironically enough
No longer do I expect you
Or anyone for that matter
To tell me how to be myself

To tell me which shoes to buy or to wear
Because I simply walk
As I once was taught
And always will

To stride alongside with a loving air
Until I find the most tolerable pair, of shoes
The most close to comfortable I can bear

By which I mean of course
A very inspiring and impressive pair
Because a man needs good walking shoes
If he is to live his life some-wear

Gentle dawn
Tilts her head to a simple side
Just like a lover

Her embrace and longing kiss
Opening wider than a day is long
And a night is alive

With ease and gentleness alike
Her hand comes to rest
On my resting knee

As I gently reach for a single moment
Turned memory
Which can be savored for eternity

Somewhere in a meadow
Beneath the rows of fielded corn
Between the sky, above a water way
Where a million tiny ears are born
And listening to the winds of voice
To the cackle of crows driving away a hawk
Living there, somewhere amongst a meadow seeded
Are a thousand, growing, listening stalks
All born to stand, but not to walk

Struck speechless
Stretched for words I am
As I have never been
This close to you
And all I can do I can do is grin

From the last scribble
To the last scrawl

The last storm which lasts
Beyond the last hope in all

Like a lasting song
Or the last lengthy drawl

Let the artist draw last
What is meant to be drawn

Cold meat, processed cheese, making my lunch for another day*
Rolled up sleeves
Empty sheets
No one in my bed to sleep with anyway

And at work I find no reward to adore, and after driving home
I cannot help but work some more
Mostly favors of art because I'm poor

Yet no matter how busy I like to keep
I always manage to find some time
To stray into topics too often, too deep
Like what it would be like to be with her in mind

Though most every night I see my brothers, whisk their brides to be away
*It's with every dawn that I am reminded, that my life will not always be this way

In case you ever wonder
Where the other half of the moon goes (to rest)
It's on my chest
Just to the left
So long as I am under you and your spell

If no one reads
If no one comments
It still exists
It still IS

Sourness escapes my lips,
Pulling tails around my waist,
Into my oldest shoes I slip,
Italian beasts from a bygone age.

My eyes are full of nothing today,
That is except for weariness,
And perhaps a little tiny streak,
Of something resembling  belligerence.

My clock was screaming out dismay,
And I displaced it on a whim,
Desperately searching for a way,
To snooze until a different day.

But no sirree that couldn't be me,
Because this morning I believe,
That I've too much reliability,
To let such sourness ruin me.

His eyes implied, as he placed his hand on the windowsill, same as mine.
Just resting on the other side of a sheet of glass.
Much stood between the two of us.
Though back in time there was no distance which could separate our minds.
Once torn away, how did my pain reflect the same, inside and out?
How did our moment slip away like the quiet night?
My attempts in vain to remove the stain of the sacred heart.
His departing train which waivers in the snows embrace.
And bears my hopes for us away, into the dawn. Into the garish light of day.
I wait for him in the station stained with falling snow.
Until the time has stripped away the bitter cold.
And only memory remains, to find my hand and gently hold.

Where painted rivers pick apart
The rocks and earthy soil

Carve bolden paths into meadow lands
With a crashing winding coil

Puddles form
And land deforms
Opportunities rise
And tidings fall

As beneath the growing chaos storm
My mind unwound
How I cannot help but be feel now
When the rain clouds burst on the Texas soil

Darling verse would you distract me?
Take me away from this wretched place,
And return to me my sense of self?

Restore my mind and all that it holds,
Rekindle a fire within my veins.
And bring me back to the days of old?

To a time when life was young and alive.
To a life that I lived on the other side,
Of this placid coin, would you turn once again?

And restore to me to my place amongst men?
Would you bring me back to this present day,
And then gather my sorrows to whisk them away?

-SS

You keep on spitting it out
From your couch "my friend"
Because you know where I'll be

Working furiously as ever before
Until all of the flaws are ironed out
And there's nothing left of you but your mouth

Just sit back and relax as you always have
And then comment on what THIS is really about

How I did what I said, and I said what I am
When I jumped up and stomped on the top of these clouds

Hopefully then you'll discover quite quietly how  
To have a sensible song tucked away in your mouth

Dear Hush,
What is a movie which I must,
See and such?
Something idealistic,
And not so hush hush.
If you'd tell me in a minute,
I'd appreciate it much,
I appreciate your time,
O' Misses o' Hush.

I am thunder
I am lightning
I am a length of the Willow whip in the wind
Ever cracking in the air and striking
Precariously
That’s how I like to live
When I’m on point
And on the edge
No one can withstand the imminence
The ultimate outcome
When I assume this stance
Ask anyone of my dominance
And they’ll assure you of such prominence
Because when I unchained myself
The thunder rolls
And the strike looms
Ominously

Desire a man who walks a straight path
Keen as the cutting edge
Straight as an arrow and deep to sink
That way in him you may always be found
Like the mountain pass
Taken higher than the clouds  
And never disgraced, degraded or sunk down

Not the aimlessness
Indecisiveness
Or the constant lack of questioning
No
None of that
But I’ll always remember her raven hair in a spiral stair
And the jealousy in her sister’s eyes

Where does the desire come from?
To send someone words on a paper screen?
Where does the inkwell saturate, and settle deep?
Mixing until you’re your dammed up thoughts
Break loose and spill out onto the ground
Flooding the valley at hand below
For when you spill yourself onto a page
You need to be comfortable with the mess you’ll create
It’s inevitable
But why should you worry about that anyway?*
I mean it, I say this with a laugh but…
Does any of this matter anyway?
Why should you withhold and hold back?
The rushing words
The kind which actually meant to be swept away

From brews, to baseball, to the Caesar salads we both like to eat

You were the potential just out of reach
The distant hope, the fear internalized
The not knowing when, or how, or if, we would ever meet

For once, for real, instead of on screens
Like the reflections in my galleries
I see you now in photos with him
Seeing both what is and could’ve been

Yet there you are by your father's side
Striding down the aisle inside, of another man’s church
Another man’s mind    

I just hope that he loves baseball like me
And that he can paint the corners outside
Almost perfectly, just like a Rembrandt

Though I missed you this time by a single stride
I never felt like the game began
Because we both looked down that distant road
And you, glanced back, at a map inscribed

On that, with this, I bid you goodbye, and wish you well until the 9th

Signing up for this certain road
Foreseeable or not
Be it windingly long, or deafeningly smooth
Makes no difference to me
Because to get to the end of it
To the end of it all
And to drive on like this
Is to get to be with, and be beside you

The truth is written there
Clear as day and yet shrouded as the night
Across the sky
That I am the only one who knows
Who I've written about
And why

I'll never talk about what it's not, but I'll tell you what it is

It's the jaw harps sound, clear as spring water in open mouths

It's an echo clear in a budding clearing

And clear enjoyment in the crinkling eyes of a crying wish

And as for my old mentor, his name was Kitten Lips

Because he purrrrrred when he performed on it

Though other introverts may shy, I will learn to appreciate such things.

I will link experience to metaphor, and liken this noise to the birds which sing.

Some unaccompanied, and some with voice. Some with the lyr atop the strings.

I learn this though its not in nature. We humans are such fascinating things.

Curvature
Bending like the Willow frame
Waving at me
Like the friendly greeting of a winding lane
All the while knowing
That it's not even your sound which calls to me
No
It's just the winds of life
Whistling through the outstretched trees
Grasping at experiences which have yet to come
But in time will be
With all of the sounds and windings of a meadow stream
Your curvature and me

Like a can
I desire to open myself up
So that someone may taste
And partake in the difference
But none can see
No none can see
At least I believe
In the difference in me

Curled up like a cat
Atop a spinning world of responsibilities

Don't wake me from this weekend dream
I can bear the nightmare occasionally

Instead, cut the lights and turn the fan over me
Breathing one final breath into this lifeless beast

You can expect me not to hear so much as a single sound
When the new day comes with an irksome, early, alarming scream

Looking at an author

It’s in the cheekbones
Below the eyes
Beneath the subtle shades of truth
It lies
To hide the self
Hiding itself
Yet worlds
Worlds are presented as such
So as to think
That they reside inside

And sometimes they do

Some days I just don't have the words
So I ask him to provide for me
All the pros for my failing verse
And unfailingly he does this for me
Because he always simply is
As I will never ever be
Half as clever as my God can be

Mistress of the cliffs
With eyes like lighting
And the rolling thunderous waves crashing down
Just beneath her fingertips

She is Demelza
The Goddess of solidarity and steadfastness

The epitome of emphasis
And the truth behind every last belmaidens wish

Which is of course…
To return to the fields of idleness
Of former youth

To thresh the wheat and kick the chaff
And to walk the surface of the earth
With a joy forgetting the hardships
And the toils of the fast

And so each day
She trudges her way
Though the dark and dull abyss
Until she reaches her new task
And sets herself to another height
For she was born to be mistress of the cliffs

Clear my mind oh sovereignty
Untwist the roller coaster which I've built up in my mind
And make it straight as the mountain tops
Which you created in the olden days

For I am weak and weary from my own insufficiencies
And I need your light within my life
In order to illuminate the coming day

Would you clear my mind oh sovereignty
And bring me back to the same old street
Where I used to walk as a child, be it still sinfully
I'd pad left and right with my childish feet

Would you clear my mind once more for me
So that down your path I may once more see

My head it aches, like a Halo wrapped tightly around my head.
Like an angel who tried to pull the wool around me, but now I wear his crown instead.

Pressuring me, my every thought, pounding beats out like a drum.
Oh metal band I bind with you, to make my wandering mind go numb.

Pull my attention back to you, you show me a hue of blue above.
On such a day when skies are gray, I crave the Raven not the Dove.

Just send me to a quiet room and remove my Halo from above.
These former halves no longer two, the pain humanity hates yet loves.

Pulling attention back to you, demanding time and time again,
That I lose sight and sacrifice my focus on the task at hand.

Depart from me oh aching head, let me for a moment begin again.
To see the morning without hindrance, and be the mind I've always been.

The coolness of night
Which purses my eyes
From far till the dawn of day
And when I stumble at night
It remakes me anew
And I breathe with both the dew and the old
Yes, I breathe with both the dew and the old

By green in water
Blue in eye and mind alike
With gentle shimmer
Gleaming is the ray above
This, your autumn crown alive

Like the luminous points beyond the sky and on the screen
I see the stars just below your eyes
Winking quietly back at me

All that I want, and think that would be best to be, right now, is out in front of me. Presented here within these words, which I crafted deep from within. And to say that I in some way, am too much for you right now. That is cowardice towards what ere could be. So don't claim to know what a word really means, when you want to craft alongside a wordsmith like me.

One God is
E n o u g h
In my life
I do not
Wish to worship
Her as well

Good scrambled eggs can find
More competency in hand
Than that within mind

When words sprout limbs
And grow as trees in the summertime
Steadily until they bare their fruit
Then my thoughts will be hanging within reach
Would you pluck them as you'd pluck some fruit?
And take a tiny bite of me
Or at least of my thoughts?
Would you, wouldn't you?