I'm a vow of silence,

                               that sings within.

Void less consciousness,

                 that grows between

the cracks.



Woven in bloodied tears,

              yet my features are
  parched like a desert wind.



I'm an illusion of self,
             cradled in the arms


of my own self doubt.

Hope float,
Like the poem you wrote,
Taking note
You put on the words coat,

Hope float,
The day you spoke
She, he, a little choked,
Your shirt tear soaked
And another poem wrote.

Hope float
On a grey day boat,
You napped then awoke
And alone while on the float,
Your heart spoke notes,
Another note you wrote,

Hope float,
Pains tender note,
Swan song loser goat poke,
Not the hero u had hoped,
Your lover with another eloped,
Your heart strings on a *****,
Don't play the dope,
Hope floats,

And poetry saved you.

There’s been so much bad luck
Blowing in the gales of life,
The sails of my happiness are
Tattered and won’t hold the wind.
Life has long been such a heavy load
My little boat is listing
And it needs to be rebalanced.
I have stores of ballast, so
My little craft won’t sink.
My twisted fingers still can hold
A needle to mend the spinnaker.
The tiller isn’t broken and
The rudder still steers true.
I can see the distant shore
And the tide is lifting me.
Soon I will make landfall and be safe
ljm

Pouring....
Grey like April's ******,
Amassing the draped sun
Until her thighs we're but shadow,

I cried unto the silent,
Inside the storm
Through eyes that
Mimic everyone and there
Is only peace outside.

Passionate doubled man,
Creeping pains like tidal
Drifts in the bipolar temple.
I am not
But there is no one inside to hear
The thoughts crying out
In the deepest wail,
Hear me, smile, walk by me,
You would never know
Inside me the fluxed,
And she is inside me gone.

To you.
To me.
And in between.
There are many reasons to love.

To me.
To you.
And in between.
If you're religious.
God will always be guiding us.

And that's a blessing.

Ney, I am the break
That nets a setting sun.
Beak of swalllows
Into turpentine waters,
Behind  the glare of
The watching fern,
A whisper in the winding
Shade turning in itself....

In the remains of the day
Watching the meeting
And the stare of eyes
Stealing the fleece of gold
From unborn skies.