Funny how the soft touch of your hand,
Is home to me,
laughable the way you're
drawn to me.
And your heart
Is the best way to get the data,
From my crashing mainframe,
To back me up,
Without condemnation,
You're familiar without failure,
And yet we fail each other daily,
But hope,
Makes your embrace- HOME.

Shelter me like a mother hen shelters her young,
hide me in an embrace,
one not tangled with strangling strings that cut or twist the knife,
but offer an embrace that brings healing and hope.
Cut the noose,
untie the rope.

Shade me like oaks that have grown strong through
seasons endured, through fires long since come and gone,
be like moonlight to guide me safely to harbor.
Be faithful, be kind, be true.

I will bow my back,
and spend my strength to love you,
until we inherit silver,
and our eyes lose sight of seeing clearly,
your heart will always be clear,
and mine clearly for you.

Where are you darling lover?
I hate that others have distracted
and kept you from me,
I hate that I have been lied to by so many
who promised diamonds,
only to to give ashes,
and lashes,
and sorrow.

I love you one I do not know,
and some day I will show you so.
I love you from Sunrise to Sunrise.

Don't make me wait love, I ache for you.
I need you near, be faithful, be kind, be true.
Be here.

(c) DM 2016

Jealous hands.

I watch behind you
in the crowd,
as she reaches over,
to so gently scratch your back,
and sooth you as you lean there,
forward in your chair.

My emptiness is apparent.
And I am jealous of her hands,
and wish that I could feel those things.  
I wish my words were fire,
and my aching heart,
exchanged for brilliant wings,
jealous hands, jealous face-
feathers and sinew,
jealous things-
so I could leave this place.

(c) Dm 2015

Given time,
Little seed you will
Sprout through,
Chocolate cake,
Awake to shiver,
Green- Unwind in wind,
Spindle your plume and petals,
And swell with light,
Your green heartbeat,
Unheard by others,
But matching mine,
Every note a symphony,
Every note a chime,
Perfect time,
How my affections you keep,
Sweet one,
You bloom tomorrow,
but tonight you sleep.

© Dm 2015

You are embers,
in the furnace of my heart,
chasing dragonflies,
the crinkle and clatter of
transparent wings
paper songs,
a million seconds,
have passed,
since we have laughed,
maybe it's time to move,
pass on the deed,
driven by need
to breathe
new air,
and experience life
somewhere,
new

Babydoll you make
stars fall,
valves and engines stall,
your eyes are living oceans of stars,
your smile is the metronome of my
flight,
and try as I may,
try as I might,

I don’t think I’ll ever
get the words right,
to tell you what I feel tonight,
but I hope you feel it
when I kiss you,
I hope know it in my affection,
the way I’ll always protect and miss you,
even when the clocks
hands have stopped moving,
with my poetry and dying words,
there will be a part of me left,
still proving,

to the world,
that you, and only you,
could ever
be my mine.

© dm 2015

Today I feel so small. - Minuscule
As if a puff of smoke,
a dandy-lion seed,
that will never roar.

The last week has been,
crumbling not good,
not like cakes or sweet tastes,
but internally breaking,
and waste.

I feel so small in my faith,
and my life. I feel like Joseph,
in the dungeon of the king,
waiting for some news to unfold,
for a dream,
to be,
a key,
for someone to unearth it-
to unlocking my purpose.
For someone to whisper,
“You’re worth it.”
-D. Montgomery 2015

She is a sunflower,
hair soft like cornsilk,
freckles,
the lines
in her smile,
honey,
sit with me,
entangled,
entwined,
wishing,
can I rewind?
Pause time?
As she sings,
finds me,
wishing,
that she wasn't
so high up on
a string,
out of reach,
like summer memories,
past.
Good morning you
work of art,
good morning heart,
sad to know she's
out of reach.
dm 2015

There are ghosts hiding behind my skin,
they come out at night,
and remind me of my sin,

there are red and blue cities within my heart,
they pulse and blur with light,
and remind me I am empty inside.

The ice queen dances on ice so thin,
she calls me out at night,
and waits for the ice to give in.

Sometimes I remain on the shore,
other times I dive right in.

-Dm 2017

family.
The crisp of sulfur,
the crackle of lights,
reflecting on faces,
and sighs.

years.
The aloneness of empty,
card houses, stacked,
against the blur of
spilled watercolors,
and tears.

Escape.
With me here for
seconds, to remember it
no more, as we pour the gasoline,
and quietly latch the door,
the crisp of sulfur,
the crackle of lights,
reflecting on faces,
and sighs.

Goodbye, goodbyes.
(c) DM 2015

WOKE
Dark wind,
dark wind,
knocks at the door,
sorrow whispers,
“come in…
come in.”

They say Icarus died because he flew too close to the sky,
Daedalus’s son,
So I ask him why?

He whispers,
as if a lullaby,
“a broken heart,
a broken heart.”


So lost in beauty,
that could not be undone,
once you fly so high,
you see the beauty of it all,
and then you taste the fall.
It was a broken heart that took
his wings,
dark waters,  
stinging tears,
wax, feather, and strings.

Woke,
to being alone again,
and hum the song,
of Daedalus’s son,
“A broken heart,
a broken heart.”

The melting of the
wax, has begun.

DM 2015

These three years are a bleached,
bitterly bluegray frozen, tundra-
full of shallow graves,
where I have buried my companions,
dreams,
and thin ice,
traveled with careful steps,
cherished occasional fires,
to warm the permafrost around my heart,
I follow ghosts made of frost,
who seldom speak,
but never fail to remind me that I am lost.

As quickly as it was,
the diamond shattered,
misunderstanding,
accidental and
simple mis-branding,
life paints me fragile,
and my song of songs
becomes a song for sorrow,
and poor standing.

Trying to understand why
my genuineness is always mistaken,
for slyness or demanding.

Say a prayer for the sparrows,
for the ones who fall and the Father sees,
say a prayer they return safely
at night, to their homes
in the trees.

-Dm 2017

Sometimes my admiration for people,
is bigger than they understand,
to tell them is a risky dance,
a game of fate,
a game of circumstance,
yet while I thought about this,
thinking about you,
I realized a love for a sister is safe,
not fearful or dangerous,
it is honest and deeply sweet.
So I will say it here,
in case I never get the chance:

Dearest sister,
I love the way you smile at children,
the kind things you say to strangers,
the way you hold on when you hug.
The sweet and soft way you sigh out phrases,
the cadence of your words,
the way it’s beautiful,
when you sing,
and the way your voice
cracks when you’re emotional.
I love the way you care about your
friends,
how you care for family with
compassion and love,
I love to see you smile
and the way you don’t realize that you’re amazing
and beautiful,
like a child raised in paradise,
is not aware that
sandy toes,
or driftwood lullabies sung by beaches,
and waves,
are magical.
I often think about
your kind heart and eyes,
how they comfort others just because you are you.
I love all of those things about you,
and even if I am awkward and
could never tell you in person,
I want you to know I think that you’re
extraordinary.
I love you as my sweet sister,
one I cherish, and hope will always know,
you have my deepest respect and care,
and I encourage you let your love for
God and others grow.
With whatever means I can,
with words from a simple man,
I will be here to cheer you on,
the best I can.
A brother and a friend,
without any other motive,
but to see you blessed,
from start of life,
until the end-

remember while through the daily
parade of life you plod-
Don’t forget dear sister,
that YOU are a treasure,
a masterpiece and gift from God.

DM 2015

eyes upward,
catching stars,
lifting crickets out of the silence,
sweet summer breeze,
touches my shoulders and cheek,
it's late,
where have you been my sweet escape?
How long have you hidden from
this longing heart?
a silent celebration,
confetti and ticker tape,
fingers entwined,
passing cars,
rumble in the distance,
like sighing giants,
they see our hearts falling in love,
and smile at the magic,
the magic that is yours and mine,
the moments our hearts,
like planets,
align.

A moment passes and something beautiful dies,
there were watercolor constellations,
dappled, darkling gems of light,
behind us, glinting in jasper, and violet skies,
but now only darkness,
the constellations in silent splendor,
bleeding fire from my eyes,
the constellations of
diamonds have fallen,
and once where my heart found laughter,
only tears remain,
and once in silence I trusted-
such deep hopes!
Higher than all before them,
a daredevil on the wire!
Now a ball of fire,
forward motion, now sinking in those hopes,
slowly tangled by the noose of their ropes,
you would think after a year or so,
one could let go, let go!
And how?
I don't know-
how to express that
yesterday is a slave to tomorrow,
for we have taken what was not ours to borrow,
the wicked borrow and do not repay,
that has become our culture, this our way,
"even in laughter the heart may sorrow"
so how does this story end?
It ends with a whimper,
and mangled hopes,
a harpist's hand severed in the machine,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
The sad singer with his tongue severed,
can never speak out,
can only scream,
a dreamer crushed within a dream.
-dm (c) 2015

so sick of the media hype
got drones whatching over
watching what you type,
heard a runner for the big job say,
if you were thinking about joining,
the dark side,
he'd **** you with a drone ray,
no trial, no qualms,
no lawyer, no Psalms,
they'll **** you
if it looks like you "might"
get blood on your palms,
who reads minds to see?
when did we lose democracy?
Since when did the land of the free,
become the land of the huddling masses,
and afraid,

I'm not drinking the cool-aid.

Media tells you what they want you to know,
keeps you scared at night,
so you'll go where they want you to go,
so you buy what they want you to buy,
fills our young minds with propaganda and mis-info,
Wake up America,
you still have rights,
wake up America,
it's not about blacks or whites,
wake up America,
land of brotherhood,
don't trade your rights,
for fabled comfort,
from dark knights,
stand up as brother and sister,
stand up as Mrs. and Mr.
and together make your voice be heard,
before it's too late,
before its too late,
Is that a drone or is that bird?
shhh don't speak so loud,
you might be heard.

(c) dm 2015

In still frames and photographs,
I still see your eyes light up,
they're not faded like today.

I see you vibrant and laughing,
a sweet grin as you say my name,
"Stop sweetie, I don't look good."  You mumbled,
and I begged to differ,
felt my hands shiver,
You always looked good...

With your long hair in a bun,
that white sweater of mine-
was way too big,
the way it always wrapped you in the
scent of my cologne,
the safeness of home,
and the way you giggled
as I pretended you were a delicious truffle,
playfully as if I were a pig,
and lovingly nibbled your ear.

Back when "you" were still here.

And then you began to drift,
across an impasse,
a weight too heavy for me to lift.
and you spun your golden feathers,
across time and space,
drug induced and broken,
a shattered masterpiece,  
your life: a waste.

I have seen,
angels give their wings
to the mud,
of loss,
of ache,

and I have seen
stars give their light,
to the darkness…

I have heard laments,
and love songs,
sang from broken hearts,

watched swans wings broken,
at the hand of careless boys
who thought it sport,
to make game of her
brokenness.

I have loved broken
things,
held them carefully,
as they stretched broken wings,
and waited till they would
fly away,
and wondered if they ever
thought of me,
in the silence of those great
starry flights…
Did they remember
as the wind lifted them higher,

wondering if they could
remember the warmth
of the once shared fire,
as I prayed for them,
feeling lost and alone
those quiet summer nights.

(c) 2015 DM

Feeling rather off lately.
Must be time to stretch my wings.
Flutter up, and out,
above ordinary things.
I feel a chill in the air, and a feeling- that familiar glare,
of red and orange bokeh lights on the freeway,
dusty clouds over head,
waking up under the overpass of your love,
and the heart beat that
beats ahead,
ahead of the others,
ahead of the crowd,
it whispers, "Stand up straight,
don't slouch, speak up loud.
Throw off the familiar,
shake off the cloud,
run with the leopards and
leap with the deer,
unbind your icy feet,
and crush the new year."

-Dm 2017

I am bleeding profusely,
just below the surface.

These memories like razors,
are scars hidden in the sleeves of my hoodie,
that I crave to show you,
but can never reveal.

War-zones within,
have taken a toll on my
soul. ( sorrow is real )

This sentimental shrapnel,
I feel below the surface of my skin,
protruding like emotional tin,
purchases my silence,
formulated like science.

When others grow full,
my belly still aches
for honey,
hunger pangs are funny,
like the kicks of a bull.

How long,
will You turn your eyes
away from me?
The Prophet said,
"I've never seen the sons of the righteous go hungry"
but I starve week to week.
Rescue me,
before I draw too far away,
lost in the dark and bleak.

Bleeding out profusely,
waiting to be fed.
(C)  DM  2017

captured by angels
You

shadowless eyes,
helped me through sorrow,
stolen light from,
diamonds and seas.

YOU

bird-less flight,
embittered but quiet,
helped my heart,
captured unrequited,

you.

Dedicated to
angels,
lingering
on pages of fire,
around your head,
like a crown of
roses,  
my smoldering heart.

dm (c) 2015

Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

The lives we tell ourselves,
are folded bits of paper mache,
multi colored lullabies,
Strange alien colors and grass at sunset.

The moment when our mothers call us home and the crickets sing when we hope we get the sleep before threadless darkness comes to terror and torment our innocent hearts,

with monsters who are not the kind that live in the far dark-but the kind that live in the desolate house 304.

Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

It is then we learn to guard the lives we tell ourselves we will have,
and the lives we can afford.

Darling one, lock the window,
Darling one, lock the door.

(C) DM 2017

The Treasure – By D. Montgomery © 2015
Intro: C      G C      F
C                 F
When he looks at you,
             C        G
he can't see what I see,
            C         F
and when he looks at you,
          C        G
he looks right through,
        F               C
and he doesn’t see the flower,
F                C
cannot see your bloom,
F                 Am            Em            
cannot see the treasure that is you.
CHORUS
F                                           C
I've seen you hold you hold your father's glasses,
F                              C
I've seen you swim the rivers wide,
F                                       AM                     G         G7
I've seen you run through fields so broken... to reach the other side and...
F                            c                  F               C
You can run on tired for infinity, or you can stay here next to me.
        F                  C                               G7          G
You can chase until the sun goes down, but I would never leave.

C                 F
When I look your way,
             C        G
I can't know how to say,
         C         F
when I look at you,
         C        G
it's all I can do,
        F               C
to keep myself from singing,
      F                C
to sing of your sweet face,
F                 Am        Em    
dappled in white satin and lace.
Alt Chorus /Ending
        F                  C                               G7          G
You can chase until the sun goes down, but I would never leave.
        F                  C               Am                G7          G
You can chase until the sun goes down, but I would never leave.
F                                 C
I’ve seen you hold your fathers ashes,
F                           C
I’ve seen you swim rivers wide,
F                                    AM                     G         G7
I’ve seen you run through fields so broken to my arms on the other side.
F                       C           AM               C
Here you’ll find your rest now. Sleep sweet darling sleep,
F                     C                G            G7
I’ll hold you until morning and your secrets I will keep…
F                     C                G            C
I’ll hold you until morning and your secrets I will keep…

She was sunlight,
incarnate,
before I became a forest of trees,
I was a blade of grass,
she dared to love me,
but found it too great a task,
left for greener pastures,
leaving a wake of fire and ash,
and still on sad days I  look for warmth
in the footsteps,
of her path.

Her hands are flowers,
eyes jewels of secret stone and fire,
treasure deep within fabled rooms,
her lips petals of forgotten tropical blooms,
her voice a soft wind blowing on the lyre,
her hips are strong and made for birthing dreams,
her darling kiss,
flowing beautiful waters,
a gentle stream,
a forgotten city where birds of paradise sing,
and if she calls you lover,
do not forsake her for others,
do you not see that you have been blessed,
to find sweet solace in her breast,
do not look away or chase another,
she will be your faithful darling,
if you love her,
she will always be your lover.
(c) dm 2017

The sea calls me,
and nothing can stop
the unfurling of sails,

I am a sea-boat captain,
exploring the dark waters,
scouting for whales,

new country to see,
new shores to step upon,
a daunting shipwreck
will not keep me down,
I did not give up,
yet nearly drown.

Don't hold the past so tightly,
it will always let you down,
don't tread the water without direction,
sink in,
prepare for the long hall,
and set sights for salvation's shore,
life does not end with tragedy,
trust me darling there is more!
There is more!

The sea calls me,
and nothing can stop
the break of new day,

I am a sea-boat captain,
shouting to the heavens,
Anchors aweigh!
Anchor aweigh!

Freedom is calling,
calling "Anchors aweigh!"

(c) DM 2016

when october
dulls your name,
and your heart becomes
december,
we will be christmas and
new years,
together-
your name will be
on my lips,
like still frames,
of the time we
fell in love
sweet summer time,
and we will sink,
into the next year,
like stones sink,
in water,
and when depression,
tries to steal your
fireworks,
we will rise
together,
light up the blackness
of night,
lift up your eyes
so bright,
your name will be on my heart,
like still frames of the
time we got lost
in the storm of life,
but found a way to be
alright.

we got home
cold
but laughing,
and we
warmed
our love
by firelight.

you and i,
we will be
alright.

i promise.
pinky swear,
i will always be there.
i promise.

we will be
alright.

(c) DM 2015

these faded feathers,
smoldered by fire,
we flew too close
to heaven,
now strangled in wire,
dreams collecting
dust in static towers,
of harbor lights,
a voice haunts me,
“this city is beautiful at night.”
charcoal black,
a thousand colored diamonds,
do you remember?
how you made me stay awake,
before I had to leave,
whispering anything was possible,
you made me believe,
then went away for forever,
and you were gone,
forever,
sometimes you still visit me,
somewhere before the dawn,
smiling with your darling flower hat,
and I smile as you wave back,  
your smile and slender arms reaching out,
your summer skirt dancing in the wind,
like a silk curtain of black,
but that is when then the crows arrive,  
and they begin to tear at my heart,
as the river of hope,
turns to blood,
and decay,
a horrid dream,
on the hardest days,
they find me,
the crows sweep me away…

I wish I could wake you,
and then I would say:

wake up sweet baby,
wake up sweet baby,
it’s just a bad dream…

And you would kiss my brow,
and I would fall asleep next to you,
instead of
falling downward,
spiraling away in invisible flames,
and remembering when
we played connect the dots,
with fireworks and stars,
and silly lovers games,  
before the light,
left your eyes,
and all constellations,
fell from skies,
and all that remained,
was the sound of sighing rain,
an empty bed,
the tangible feeling of your disdain,

wake up sweet baby,
wake up sweet baby,
it’s all a bad dream.

DM 2015 (c)

Selle, I feel you in my
memory,
and I curse this crush,
no one but I know,
I feel.

But feeling does not dictate doing.

It hurts to realize I will never
be a star in your sky,
but I will still shine for you,
with darling tenderness,
even
when tears fall-

even though there
are others,

I ache for you.
The longing for your
fingers entwined,
in mine.

And I will shine for you alone,
sweet crruuush,
because I must.

(c) DM 2017

Feeling a little lost and wishing I knew how to express myself.

I wonder if you're lonely,
Somewhere out beneath the vibrant colors,
The oohs and the awes,
Always make my heart ache,
I wonder if you feel it like I do,
Or if you hold another's hand,
Long washed passed,
Like oceans and sand,
These days I've nearly given up it seems,
On romance and dreams,
The distance between us,
Like the echoes of sound after the crackle and boom,
I remember when you were lonely,
A girl trapped in her world,
Trapped in her room.
I wish darling flower,
That I could be the heart
That  makes you ooh and awe,
I wish perhaps one more moment,
that for a moment you saw,
how special you are to me,
That I could make you bloom.

Ache wakes you,
Crumbles blue,
Inconclusive.

Sleep is elusive,
Heart break takes you,
Like a lover indefinite,
Incubated in secrets,
Cold formality,
Biology and chemical reality,
A function of command.
A dark rorschach crushed heart and a broken hand,
Ache awakes you,
We've broken through.
Inconclusive,
Ideal,
New.

I hate that we ever met.
That I love you silently still.
I hate that your voice still haunts
My afternoons and my silence.
Anime & DS games remind me of you. Intimate kisses as affection grew. Watching sailor moon and skyping for weeks at a time. Until the weekend when I drove all night- to hold you.
I hate that you were mine. I'd never felt so completely loved and loved so deeply,  and I hate that I know your kiss.
I hate that we shared moments of bliss.
I hate this. I wish I could pay to forget your eyes,  
The curve of your smile and the feel of my hand on your thighs as we danced barefoot and walked along the ocean shore.  I hate that you abandoned me when I needed you most.
I hate that you haunt me like a ghost.
I hate that I need you still.
And I hate most of all that perhaps-
I always will.
-Dm 2016

green is not a color
it is the reflection from through
which the world sees you

empty of everything except beauty
I hold you in esteem,
even blades of grass,
must dream.

DM 2017

Sweetie,
tonight my head is a drum,
but all I want is to close my eyes,
and feel your silken hand softly flow
over my brow,
to quiet the aching,
the slow breaking,
and even in pain,
feel your kiss,
on my forehead,
for slivers of something,
called comfort.
I listen to you breathe,
as you watch me drift to sleep,
and the one thing I know,
is your nearness,
makes me calm,
strong and fearless.
DM 2016

I know you're struggling.
And that it hurts so much,
you clutch your heart,
the en-ending, unrelenting,
mire of ache,
and each tiny feather,
pulled free reminds you,
of what it means to break.

But after the storm has finished her sad raging,
the glass is empty and contemplating,
and the pleiades dance is waiting,

Just then, you will see a spark,
tiny, shining, spark,
giving birth to light,
a seed of promise,
buried deep,  
cradled by the night,
and this will be the
healing hope,
that lets you down,
from the hang man's
rope,
that kisses your
tear stained cheeks,
and holds you up for weeks,
reminding you that a
seed must die before it blooms,
and honey it's your turn to bloom.

(c) Dm 2015

Thirst is strange and tragic death,
Waiting for it to fall,
The delicate spring bloom,
In your kiss,
As petals undo their
Meandering,
In puddles.
Only to be washed helpless-
Spun and pulled under,
In a smile,
That does not know
The reason,
Is so the peaches and honeysuckle may sing,
And rivers may return to rain.
Just as kings pass the mantle
To their offspring,
I pass my heart,
To your pomegranate and pearl
Fingers,
Be gentle for it is the last of its kind.
Treasure it darling,
For so many others to its value,
Have been cold,  cruel and blind.

AFFECTION - BE SWEET, BE TRUE.
I find myself,
daydreaming about what time with you
beside me,
might be.

It always surprises me,
how I miss you-
and love your voice,
your gentleness is my flavor of choice,
almost a hint of Irish mix in your accent,
like spice in sweet tea,
and how I imagine you smile,
when I make you laugh,
when talking,
and you feel at ease.

And I wonder if this could become more?
And I wonder if I am ready for it.

Is anyone really ever ready for elation?
The sacrifice,
the morrow of growth,
the duration of infatuation?
Sometimes the heartbreak,
the desolation?
Or perhaps anticipation of things to be,
the river that leads to the sea?

So affection begins like a star flickering,
in the distance,
grows brighter.

The warmth of the sun.

Affection - Be sweet, be true.
I believe I am ready?
Are you?
dm-2015

When things are miserably bleak,
and our inner vision grows weak,

we lose site of the shore,
the things that ground us,
the stones that bound us before,

we let slip the broken bits,
the silent slips,
that only our hearts perceive,

and we leave.

we reach out from broken,
for something new,

we abandon rivers and roads,
the familiar things, we once knew.

And fly, like a finch- blue feathers,
yellow beak shrieking in elation,
as we lift
from the cage.

We lay aside old griefs and sorrows,
we lay aside malice and rage,
and slip the bars of sadness,
and embrace a joyful madness,

and in doing so restore the balance,
of a jaded world,
to explore it's continents,
oceans and sea depths,
for diamonds and pearls.
and in doing so,
we who are free,
touch - reality - the distance.
(c) DM 2017

Sometimes on the interstate at night,
when there are blurs of reds, oranges,
and fading light,

I weep in the dark,
along the mountain highways,
I used to pass,
over hills and valleys,
to express love at last.

I have given up on love,
on waiting for sweet comfort,
for a gentle hand in return,
instead I grip tightly to
the remaining coals that burn,
deeper than my tear stained
cheeks,
deeper than the muddy mountain creeks,
overflowing my heart so the hurt could be lost within.
I wish for a moment of time,
once again,
when my name on your lips was
sweet,
like the memories,
not soiled,
but treasured, the way a child is held at his mothers breast,
so gently cradled,
even if stillborn.

IT WAS.
Before I knew Him.

It was always easy,
for me to justify my sin.
Always easy for me,
to be focused on me,
not Him,
and yet now I weep,
for the beard torn out,
the crown of thorns,
the joy traded for sorrows,
the God of heaven,
taking my place,
in my minds eye,
I see His blackened eyes,
a broken hearted
Savior’s face-
taking my wretched place,
so that I could share His in Heaven,
while He left such glory,
to become marred,
hated and despised,
beaten and ******,
spit upon and scarred,
gave up equality with God,
who looked away from His Son,
while all the sin of the world,
was poured upon the
spotless lamb,
this perfect and holy one,
Jesus it was then,
you defined who I am.

So that God could look on me with love,
and God would say it is finished,
declaring that Jesus is/was/will always be,
enough.

-DM 2015

Jesus I do not deserve this mercy, forgive me my God and King,
give me courage and strength to be who you made me to be.
Give me dedication like Christ, even until my last heart beat,
to remain victorious and set apart for you. Be victorious in us. Amen.

Jesus said in Rev. 3:21 “To the one who is victorious, I will give the right to sit with me on my throne, just as I was victorious and sat down with my Father on his throne.”

Sometimes I paint my heart
with stars and colors,
paint over the blackness
that hurt exposes,
inky and desperate
for your cotton candy heart,
I paint the colors of dreams,
denim and greens,
the embrace of summer air,
as the sunset fades,
the crickets singing
tiny hallelujahs,
a gentle wind kissing your hair,
I paint the river of lights,
handlebars at midnight,
and hold onto the ghost of
these nights.
Something living,
something true.
Comforting kisses catch me
quietly, as you whisper,
“Everything for you.
Sometimes I don’t say it
but it’s always for you.”

There is a sweetness much more
than that of honey,
in the caress of your arms,
there is value,
so much more,
than money,
in the kiss of your lips,
upon my cheek,
when you wake me
for coffee,
and afternoon singing.

We both know the secret.

That this place without you
is just a place.
But knowing you are near.
Is enough to keep me here,
darling won’t
you tread the stars with me?

Darling won’t you thread the
stars for me on your loom,
and wake me with your gentle
kiss,
darling how you bloom for me!

I could never leave this place,
as I open my eyes and see your face,
when you wake me
for coffee,
and afternoon singing.
(c) Dm 2015

Beauty,
delicacy,
doe eyes,
hearts,
hands folded,
smile, slow so sweet,
reading,
and reaching,
needing and aching,
but held still,
controlled,
breaking,
laughing
over folded flowers,
and then when
we part,
hours,
and silence
devours me,
in the quiet,
I am undone.

These withered hands,
sorting tinged and faded photos
forgotten in boxes
and cotton,

the lifetimes we have lived
as we tried to figure out this life,
you became a great man's wife,
a mother to children who will
change the world,

and our thoughts are like
canvases spilled over with colors
like dreams from the times we used to know,
over years,
and fears,
and silent sweeping tears,

at times I keep my distance,
from anyone who had once made me safe,
opened the curtains and drew back the drapes,
when I discovered: we all have knives for hands,
and razors for tongues,
and wonder if these boxes of faded photos forgotten,
wrapped in papers and cotton,
will be the sum total of our lives,
or will there be more?

Sometimes you're a charming enigma to me,
you're hard and strong,
but gentle and sweet,
sometimes you're sharp,
other times a healing balm,
a lulling calm,
but ordinary you've never been,
always my trusted friend,

I hope God smiles on your life,
I hope He blesses your children's children's
paths, gives them wisdom and joy that lasts,

and even if I am withdrawn,
it's not because I do not love,
or have gone,
it is because my heart,
has become faded like photos
folded and forgotten,
lost in aged attics beneath dusty cotton,
and my soul,
withered like the hands of our grandfathers,
as I drift forward,
trying to find my way.

Perhaps tomorrow I'll understand,
perhaps today?

DM (C) 2016

Subtle - A poem about love.

Hand and words,
grand piano keys,
and acres of islands,
between here and now,
summer days, and winter haze,
mixing like water and oil,
perfect until it all starts to boil,
and the rainbows in the puddles,
sparkle and then dry,
and the cold grasp of winter,
must die,
the colors of sunset,
in your eye,
remind me
home is where,
our hands entwine. Yours and mine.

© DM 2015

blush

Soft wishes on
october days,
makes me wish you
weren't so far away.

Even if its just a thought,
you know you really are
the best friend I've got.

The time has passed,
and makes us old,
leaves only moments,
of silver and gold.

I know that life is
weird and sad,
but you're awesome,
and I'm rad.

We should meet,
and hug. Often.

Dm (c) 2015

I saw you pour him out,
break his fragile shell,
with hungry, greedy
snatching needy fingers.

His green and red feathered wings,
held no strength,
and flight?

Not again ever.

You slandered his name,
profane,
each hand breaking a wing,
stepping on the spine,
and slandering,
like one smears paint around a room,
and ignored him when he reached out,
tried to utter words,
but watched him with broken teeth,
and ****** mouth.

Pouring his heart out,
eyes begging for help.
Wings broken
but feathers still held gold,
despite the pain.
Despite the acid rain.

But mercy didn't fit your regime,
nor did it fit your ideal dream,
your beautiful doe eyes,
ignored his cries,
feathered green,
cardinal plumes,
freckles and fumes,
washed away,
in the passing stream,
old candor,
street car fumes,
wickered and gray
I hope you pay.
I hope you pay.

I know I should be sleeping,
but the clock reminds me,
that I still sleep alone.

I should be sleeping,
but the emptiness of this place,
has never let it be a home.

Today I watched a wounded
deer, struggle off the road,
his legs partially broken,
and his head deeply bowed.


And I said a prayer for that
place in which he lives,
because I live there far too often-
granted I've no broken bones,
to speak of,
but some hearts live in coffins.

I know I should be sleeping,
but the clock reminds me,
that I still sleep alone.

Somewhere deep inside
the depths of me,
there must be music,
even though the strings are broken.

All of these dreams,
and all of these ghosts,
I chased are gone.
And all of these hopes,
I held so high,
have simply moved on,
and so have I.
-dm (c) 2015