Nothing feels quite normal.
Nothing feels quite right.
Nothing seems to stick around.
Nothing seems so bright.

Everything feels muddled.
Everything feels so cold.
Everything seems so altered.
Everything seems to fold.

It seems to me that if could,
Easily transpose,
Everything and nothing,
This would be a nicer prose.

I don't bargain
Not anymore
I spend my time with ghosts
Because their stories are finished
And I know the endings
I stay in happy places
No matter the cost
Years sometimes
Just to check out at 4am
If I feel disrepected
I have learned powerful things:
Nothing is dispensable
Something will always fill the void
Even if it's just the voices in my head
So, no. I don't bargain anymore
I give what I choose
I take what is offered
I choose early departures
But I still arrive late
Or even not at all
That is my liberty
That is my strength
That is the thing I like most about myself.

You smell of dawn's cologne
Mingled with the mid-days sweat
It's the scent of you that's still the same

When all is quiet, I breathe out,
And can almost hear my heart,
As it beats in metered rhyme.

And I think of so many things,
Like mortality,God, and reason,
And the quickening of time.

And I find that all my thinking,
Does very little to even no good,
Just wasted hours it seems.

If we are just only heartbeats,
No just cause or purpose here.
Why do we have dreams?

When a mothers heart is broken
Even the angels weep
No single word be spoken
As still as the ocean deep
Industry halts in reverence
The sun hoods its great eye
When a mothers heart is broken
The birds wont even fly
When a mothers heart is broken
The clocks stop out of shame
Natures shades are drawn
And heaven does the same.
Onlookers retreat with pity
The wind dares not to blow
When a mother's heart is broken
The whole world seems to know

One day, certain, this world I shall leave.
And left behind will be some who grieve.

And to the ones who shed their tears,
Who graced me with so many years,

I say to you, find peace with my rest,
Please carry on;  live life at its' best.

For I return to where I was received,
Renewed forever, because I believed.

And though we may be parted my friend,
And the world alone you have to attend,

Find hope in knowing that even though we're apart,
We will meet again and I still live in your heart.

When I picture my paradise,
Through inward, pensive eye,
There's no end to the horizon,
And nothing mars the sky.
And I am lying naked,
Half in shade under the trees,
My partial sunsoaked body,
Being soothed by fleeting breeze.
I take up a ****** journal,
And all the words fall into place,
Then spirit, body, mind, and soul,
All greet the sweetest face.
And like tumultuous rivers flow,
Our ****** too shall be,
For when I picture paradise,
You are making love to me.

The day is coming soon or late
When all this matters no more
I'll chuckle when I contemplate
What all the worry was for.
All the struggle was wasted time
The prayers were pointless too.
Meaningless also; every rhyme.
Everything I did or didn't do.
The silent agonous cries at night,
The tears that were shed for naught,
Every smile, joy, and beautiful sight,
When that day comes, will be forgot.

Sometimes just for nostalgia,
I re-read the poems of the past.
You wrote with such conviction,
And a hope which did not last.
But just to see those words again,
Makes my world again so clear.
Filled with courage, without doubt,
The days of yesteryear.
When all the "black and white" of it,
The search for a perfect tree,
"Trouble" in all it's glory,
Meant everything to me.
And though I no longer speak it,
And all hope is gone it seems,
Believe me, not one day goes by,
When you aren't in my dreams.

How is it that it seems for some,
All the words just come with ease?
With what appears no forethought,
Would someone tell me please?

And even if  hastily written down,
They blend just as if all along,
They were seeking all this time,
For each other, to form a song?

Tis' true there have been times for me,
When the words would easily flow,
With very little effort on my part,
Where they came from..I don't know!

And times like those it seemed as if,
Every noise and sight evoked a rhyme,
And I couldn't wait not even a second,
To get them written down in time.

But lately all the words are forced,
And I hopelessly, blindly *****,
To find the words to make a poem,
And this ......was today's last hope.

Annie Brown, oh Annie Brown?
Tell me, where are you?
I have been looking all around,
But there's no sign of you!

Annie Brown, oh Annie Brown?
Tell me , where are you?
If I don't find you soon, my dear,
I just don't know what I'll do.

Actions whip upon my flesh
You know yet turn away
And use the liberty that I gave you
With the words I wouldn't say.
Backing down without a fight
Yes, darling that's my way
Victory is most often won
In choosing not to play.
And so now start the battles
Between yourself and sin
Battles you are sure to lose
Just to lose all over again.
Cunning from a weaker foe
Who doesn't know his enemy
Requires no consideration
And holds no pause for me.
And so the whips are turned...and
Your flesh is now their aim
Because I won your very soul
Without playing the game.

Guess who came to the masquerade ball without a mask.
That would be me.
The naked one with the unsure yet determined
Look on her face.
The one screaming "here I am" from the center of the room
And you noticed me
And I liked you
Until the mask fell off
And you turned the opposite direction in bed
And I love you's shared once were just that,....  shared once.
And then I wished I had worn a costume.
Head to toe armor.
With no eye holes so I would never have seen you.
Or better yet just have stayed home.

I am made to feel ashamed,
Because of love I feel.
How does loving more than one,
Make that love not real?
There are so many faces here,
With wisdom, for which I long,
And I've fallen in love with many,
But I'm told that it is wrong.
And I just can not understand,
Why I'm taught I must not care,
For more than one soul at a time,
It just seems so **** unfair.

My head always seems to tell me one thing,
While my heart  takes the other extreme.
My heart says," This is possible,"
My head says, "It's  a dream."

I wonder if anyone else on here,
Knows whose space they share.
Afraid they may have overlooked,
The Canadian Poet for whom I care.

His words can cut right through you,
Messages aimed straight for the heart,
No it's not chance nor coincidence,
They may soothe you or tear you apart.

No, I can not give you any directions,
I have given hints enough,
You will stumble upon, then quickly know,
As soon as you read his stuff.

And whoever runs across his poems,
Was guided there by a greater force.
Everything happens as it is planned,
Keep reading, you're right on course.

I gave up letting others hold me
at first because it just felt like I wasn't being loyal to you..
then because I didn't want anyone but you and even though I am still yours...
you are not mine.
Never were.
I will just have to try closing my eyes
and pretending it is you that holds me now...
And afterwards escape to our tree and cry.

Here....
We celebrate genuine
We admire raw uncensored love
We understand it takes more courage to expose yourself than to hide
We don't applaud actors, we pity them
Here....
We don't wipe tears away, we dance underneath them
Here.....
Is an easy place to be
But so few come
This is the place where inertia
Is found while being still
And divinity smiles
Where brokenness is beautiful
And filters are unnecessary
Fear and pride are allowed in and yet
They will never accompany you out
This is where spirit meets body
And acceptance is born
Where wisdom comes to cast itself off
And admittance of ignorance is prized
Wind moves us here as was intended
Where we set down things we have carried too long
Where breath and freedom are identical
The purest form of joy is here
Where real becomes reality
The place you can go to anytime
And choose to never leave.
Who would want to anyway?

The day will be soon be over,
And lead on into night.
A night without any shelter,
He shivers out of fright.
Night eyes they will watch him,
And sleep will just deprive.
His belly, it will be burning.
But no food will arrive.
People will pass and mutter,
Words he never hears.
He knows them all anyway,
He's lived like this for years.

Among the scattered granite
Kneels a concrete angel
Watching over the stillness
Of the sacred place.
Crows gather and I
Undisturbed sit
Under an overcast sky
A slight chill will every wind
So fitting and so welcome
Leaves spurting their way along the asphalt
Moss -laden oaks standing in reverance of the dead at rest
And yet there is much life
Bees in the low cut grass
Moving about the daisies
Crows playing games in the clouds
Blades of grass tremoring with the breeze
The ground appears to tremble
But it would never dare
Not here.
Not here where alone feels nothing like loneliness
Where innonence has endured
In the only place where tears can fall without scrutiny
Peace takes precedence here
Where the dead listen
As God speaks

If all the feelings within my heart,
Did not have be channeled through,
My brain before I could share them,
They would make more sense to you.

'Twas not a death of ceaseless breathing,
But rather one of love deceiving,
From which the soul did die.
And by doing so, then guided pleasure,
To a grave no one could measure,
Beneath a weary sky.
Without a stake even for its leaving,
Or further thought of its conceiving,
It quietly held its own,
Appearing no worse for the heaving
Sighing less heavily while bereaving,
A spot no tree had grown.

Deafen my ears, so the words won't ring,
And numb my heart, so the pain won't sting,
Dull my mind, so I'll envision not,
Days of a love that's now forgot.
Blind my eyes so that I won't see,
The indifference when you look at me,
Stiffen my back to carry to my pride,
So you'll never know the pain inside,
And upon my face, please fix a smile,
So that I will appear okay a while,
Awaken me, keep the dreams at bay,
Seal my lips so that they won't say,
"Your love was where all hope was bred,
And without it, all my hope is dead."

Exposition?, well it always comes,
At the worst time...that is sure.
And no matter what - the dust will settle.
You've heard this all before.
Just how will your own delusions
Be exposed to you in the end?
Will the sky come falling down,
Or will the devil himself ascend.
It is promised, one day soon,
Like thief in dead of night,
To enter in, strike hard and fast,
And bring the wrongs to light.
And left there without any truth,
And no faith with which to bear,
The weight of your regrets and lies,
To fall dead from your despair.
And so to each - his own delusion!
Believe just what you will!
But I have found believing,
Just makes the soul quite ill.

To a life that's been unlived,
For many, many years,
It takes so very little effort,
To stem the useless tears.
Accepting that the minimum,
Is enough to just get by,
That most attempts to smile,
Will end with only sigh.
But if offered just an instant,
One single sparkling chance,
To Live, oh yes to truly live,
Would it dare to dance?

Would life be that much better,
If we did not feel pain?
Would we even name the sunshine,
If we knew no rain?

Would life be that much better?
If tears just never fell?
Would we even look toward heaven,
Without ever knowing hell?

Writing...
writing...
writing...
It's so  hard to stop the pen...
I put it down, blink just once
Then pick it up again.

Writing...
writing....
writing....
Has complete control over me...
Can't you see what I am doing?
"I'm writing...let me be!"

Writing
writing
writing.....
Writing's what we do.
Won't you a write a poem for me?
And I'll write one for you?

Bring back the days of yesteryear,
When all seemed easy, all was free.
Before life had progressed so much,
With all of mans' technology.

Back when most men moved slower,
And their acts were mostly true.
In a world that really believed,
So much could be done with few.

When your neighbor next door to you,
Would wave and ask how you are.
And a father and son could be spied,
Working together to fix an old car.

When mothers tucked their children,
Into their beds every night,
After saying The Lord's Prayer together,
Before turning out the light.

When the festival held in the town,
Caused the businesses to close.
When grandpa's sat with grandchildren,
Under trees to read some prose.

When lemonade was squeezed outside,
Under a big old oak tree.
And honey for the mornings' toast,
Was stolen from the honey bee.

And in church every Sunday,
Man would shake each others' hands.
And forget any differences,
Knowing that God surely understands.

When there was still a clean, crisp, creek,
With a tire swing overlook.
And the teens would find their first love,
A sheepish grin was all it took.

When picnic tables were filled with friends,
And families would still play a game.
And when you went to the five and dime,
Everyone knew your name.

A time when money had less value,
Than the work a man could give.
Bring back the days of yesteryear,
So that I could simply live.

Be my guide, direct my path, as I blindly *****.
Make pure my actions and encompass the whole.
Simplify what the false rights have turned twisted.
Decipher what was given from what I have stole.

Turn me to embrace an unknown angle,
I make this plea from your higher power.
For many a year has passed away, wasted,
And my minutes hastily become their hour.

Bequeath to me a faith with no evidence,
To nurse my heart and my head in kind.
Remove the falacy of presumed knowledge,
Feed my eternal soul, not my feeble mind.

And, if your will, unveil to my neglected eye,
Your drawn line between pleasure and pain.
A clearer sense of reason, but yet also of heart,
Revealing certain, a great loss; a great gain.

Expose to me, please, your most preferred slant,
And beam the light that once formerly shown.
Temper my decision, Lord, and return me to where,
The choice was not mine, and not mine alone.

For wit, time exposed, as a false friend.
Who has failed me, time and then time again.
And led me here, to where I am now lost,
Blind and resentful of what should have been.

Overabundance turns the wise into fools,
Though the complex may shrug off the grief.
As time passes on, lightheartedness void,
Sole wisdom's been proven a thief.

Lift off the burden, the weight, and the fear,
Of holding my destiny within my hands.
I have found it a burden too heavy to bear,
And I ask to be moved - not to understand.