Bruised
I am afraid to tell the truth
Of what I feel
It always comes back
As missiles
Hurled at me in anger
Targeted as examples
Illustrations of misbehavior
Indications of future actions.

Hurt
I swore I'd never reveal to a man
That which went on before
But you coaxed it from me.
So I tell you my fantasies
And you see them as realities
I tell you my dreams
And you scold me for not making them goals
You accuse me of settling
When I mention minor obstacles
I tell you my misadventures
And you demand that I own 'em

Shame
You wanted to hear
Of those that lingered
On the path before
****** stories I
Played out for you
That you used
As Judgement
When it suited you to hurt.

Accussation
of misbehavior
Examples
of unworthiness
You hurl at me
Missiles
of personal discontent

Truth
Its mine to keep

Life is a strange swirl
Dark red roses
Buried in your soul
I look out and hide
Sunlight the cold intruder
The mix of fantasy and future
Caught up in the whim
Of a man.

You convinced yourself
No this is not what I want
No I do not want to care
No I do not like this feeling
Of want.

Blood red roses you see in my eyes
Darkness without depth
You seem to feel in my core
Am I capable of Love
Am I malcontent with Love
These are the things you say
These are the things you ask
As a man

How do I convince you
Yes this is what you want
Yes this is what you care for
I am the feeling
Of want

The swirl of the rhythm of life
Mixes its purity in the dirt
Where the deep colored roses
Strike out their hue of red
There's not much intrigue in hope
No hidden secrets agendas
Just the opening and closing of my heart
Trusting the man.

Life is a strange swirl
Caught up in splendors
And the whim of a man.

I am worried about my heart
I worry about my heart.
Not the ticking,
The ticking,
The tick, tick, ticking
But the breaking,
The breaking,
The break, break, breaking
Like glass
Cracking
It stays out there,
I hold it in my hand...
You? Do you? Do you want it?
I ask?
How about you? Do you? Do you want it?
I ask again.
I worry about my heart.
I am worried about my heart.

Like the faded red carnation
Asleep in the dusty bottle
My mind begins to sink
In frantic slumber
Yet, I raise my unwashed head
To a morning with no hope

Sullen music fibers
My unsung feelings of love.

4 March, 1978
Sunday

I need a lover, a mirror, a reflector
to see me truly.
I need you.

I need an army, a battalion, a fortress
to fight my battles.
I need you.

I need the world to lay quiet for a day,
For an hour,
Til I find you.

I need life to chose sides, and always
Pick me
First, above all.

I need you
Lover, friend to always be there,
Reside with me, bid with me, side with me
Always.
I need you.

Who would that be,
You must know by now.
The you of this world
Has got to be me.
                      -Nov, 1989

Your thread runs through my living.
Your breath fans over my life.
Your associations and devotions
Catch me unaware
when the world
is still.
When  most thoughts of you
have faded
And I can call my heart
my own,
You take a turn around my mind,
And squeeze it in remembrance.
Wringing out the tears within
Draining the resolve
to move on
Pass
All that was,
All that is,
All that will be,
Past.
But your thread runs through my living,
So, for that, you are forgiven.

Her life was run on the oil of synchronicity
planted in the seduction of abstract hypotheses.
The moons and ebbs of tides
Swoop in like thunderclaps
on wing'ed lightning bolts,
Capturing synergy
Wiping out energy
Till she huddles in a pile of her own failure
Tucking up her toes to avoid the floods
Admiring and condemning
The rain soaked
Howling at her gate.