When I retreat into myself
I reap the sky like a mountain
To a cloud,
The rainbow arch of sun rise in my eyes,
Because sometimes I just
Need to be alone,
I hide my dream's failures
In the words like a string
Of pearls sorrow,
The secrets of of my inner most,
When the outer seems too far,
Like the soft touch of a man
In darkness,
I plead the sadness with my imagination,
I hide behind the skies,
Pain becomes tender,
Just now I begin to believe
There is a better place....

Alone I hear the laughter of the
Dead beneath the earth.

The women stilled
In a shopping mall when
A sale made them go
As far away home,
     They mutter at the dresses
And cannot decide where
Green sweat earned
Will go,
And a closet abyss will ****
It out of existence, where.the day went, a husband wonders
About the next day.

Horrors of the sick,
Like duck soup
With water from its pond,
A singular observation
From a man stolen,
A woman under no
Man.

I apologise on behalf
Of myself,
I am not here at present;
I will be here later
When I am in a reflection
On a mirror which was
Born by the ripples of memory
On an empty ocean of my thoughts
Which mirror a light in
The spectrum the eyes cannot
Fathom.
And I will say what I should
Have just as my tongue fell
To the floor at that time
When my mind was elsewhere.
I apologise
Because I wanted to be there
In the moment,
But my moment was elsewhere
In a time past
Or in a time to come
When I will not be there either,
And I will miss it then too,
And catch myself
Later from the time before
Or that which never happend.

And every place is terrible
When at present the mind
Is somewhere else.

Behind myself in every shadow
I become aware of reflection,
That I am alone inside my unique-
Being the author of my deception.

A galloping dead horse breathing
Down my back startling,
A swelling comes into play when I
Decide the harder thing.

The superior memory scams
My day forward,
Closing doors I walk
Toward.

Ghost external plays
A quivering chill,
I rest upon a hard earned sorrow,
There I lose my will.

Ive never rushed to death,
Under a cylinder scope
A peek into the surreal:

A dance of shadows
Filleted by burnt light,
Across the portico
Under the middays thought
A girl under my eyes
Holds the glare of our only
Star;

The nocturne and his ways
Mysterious like a woman's
Touch of lips,
Kiss the sky under
The constellated passions
And in the moment....
A girl!
A man sees the destiny's
Plow through fields
Of the grained aches past gone,

A girl subdues the terminable,
Just a breath before the
Dust settles,
A sigh of life.

Woman: You are not a drug,
But the rehab, the twelve steps
That I could never take alone.

They say in poems that your love
Is like ******, but you saved me
From the needle I stuck in my arm.

And you are no addictive,
But you are my lover,
My best friend, a reason to quit drugs.

I know myself, and you knew me
Better, I could never have seen myself
With out your clarity.

I am an addict,
But you saved me from myself,
You are my grace, and I love you.

The words will be remembered
As he held the book sprouting
From his dead corpse,
"We The Peoples!"
The soldier of nothing's bloom,
Will he have been vindicated
For the sacrifice he made?
The night follows a tearful mourner,
Behold the book of words
From the forgotten wars
And ignorance that breeds the child;
"So he died for what he believed"

Poetry of the warrior's bane,
Between reading it and
Not learning from it,
That poetry in its beauty petrified
The lesson that dies in the tomb
Of the un named soldier,
Though a candle is always lit.

Well such pretty words worthy
Of the fallen,
And a book in a soldier's hand,
How glorious the book was sprouting
From his corpse,
And there endeth the lesson.

There is a mountain that every child
Always looks up to, and the name
Of that mountain is Father.

Guide of the labyrinth,
Weaver of strength and protection.

Not unlike the stalk of a tree,
I have seen you age without grace
Familiar with shadow and thorn,
Your enormous branches triumphant
At the core of my spirit.

Vanquisher of fears,
Vessel of the child's adventure.

And you are a guide to the clouds,
A hidden tenderness that allowed
Me to grow, I will never forget
The lessons you taught me,
And the ones you let me learn
On my own.

Father of my life,
The old man is a peak to the stars.

I can only see 5 as i wave
And forever stain a memory
10 times i saw 5 and it fell,
And there was only you walking away-
5 times i ran my hip once
And the wave fell limp,
10 times down
Pointing below where my heart had sunk.
I would grasp your mathematics
If ten were not apart of me as you are
Apart of my very soul.
There of you is only one....
And the flesh will fall
But my soul is yours,
Hands down.

We all have old scars
And sometimes the grey
Of Autumn brings them out
Just a little more when we feel
That cold air rush through
And the sun dips below the clouds
(These are seasonal scars that
Bloom like flowers in spring)
What before was a smile
Is now an agonizing memory
Almost tied in the heart and
The veins must run like
Knots bleeding out the pain
And when we experienced it
We yelled:
THIS HURTS TOO MUCH!
They say that's how you know
It was real, the pain,
And with time the scars turn
Into something else,
Like flowers in the spring.

The body is a bridge
Which navigates the living waters,
The soul is the air you don't see,
The flesh, a cage of the moment:

People,pain, hearts, lovers;
Tales of the enriching experience
Like fire buried in the mirror
Weaving embers in different skies.
The moment turns solid
And the dream disperses through
The awakening's spread hand,
The apparition is real and the memory
Is finite inside the caged soul.
Wondering if  time is real
In a foliage of misconception,
Amidst sullen realities
Charred by light in the unpredictable eye...
I believe in the soul.

The soul whispers to the heart
In pulse beats of clarity,
The rivers flow it's ashen silt
To where the river begins,
Faith enters me absolved in
Absolution of the world,
Worlds collide as the soul battles
For the appeasement of immortality:

The soul is a pilgrimage
In the dazzlement of the flesh.

My life is just a cataclysm,
And for the catalyst I am
Grateful.
You were there,
With me when the world
Died and we were
Reborn in a loophole.
Follow the procedure,
But you must be you
And the systematically
Engineed break down will
Melt down in the knowledge you
Know is there.
By the people,
We are for the people
And this country is the people.
We are still here
Take me to the grave with an
Extinguished banner
And hope will remain in what light
Has defeated,
Because even the stars glimmer
In absolution of lumminous
Conjuring.
All you need is hope,
And action in postulated
Destiny will reward the hard
Path ahead.
Be more.

Who gave the heart the beat;
Life blood and destroyer of
Lives,
The tree with roads branching
And the destiny unfolds
In an implacable red,
Luke Autumn's kiss to the wind
And the grace of a falling leaf
Emitting the eternal harmless
And sweet,
Love and a kiss of many deaths
As every moment is a lifetime.

Today I spun a web
And thought how your curves
Shatter the moon,
I think far into myself
And receive the death I deserve,
Die into me,

I reconciled with the ways
Of your touch
And split open the thesaurus,
No words.....

Today a web
And the spindle is your
Caress when I am the salt
Of my sweat,
There is peace there,
The silken threads
Of your world,
And I would be happy a fly.

Why try to construct with words
      What the Spring blew
Between storms and kisses
      Thorough your memory,
On old paper?

The tongued fire that speaks
     The dense desire to the lover,
Is now only descriptive descendant
      To what was....

Poetry is the moment.

Truth is I have never
Seen the truth,
In as much as a broken soul
Wanders looking for the Source,
Or reason,
I scattered bits and pieces left by
The Light,
Finding sparks in the darkness,
In truth the reality is
I dont know if I really
Care,
The unknown is all there is.

A silence of the tears
Made in the resolve
Of the inner sanctum
In a warm embrace of all
That was and is no more.

Take it to the sky
And limit the pain
With a full hope and empty
The cries that never let out
In a thunderous peace
That can take all the
Hurt an pain
And joy and love
Wrapped into the grace of the
Encountered moment.

The storm which rages
And takes on life as a feeling
Or a thought;
A surge of energy
That keeps in the synergy
Of a non perfect existence;

Rage on life which isn't a feeling
But an existence
How to see fit to
Cloud over the land of your mind.

What I write is an expression,
One that I can never just tell
You.

What I say I couldn't write because
I never meant to hurt you.

That's the poem
And you,
The difference
Is reading one
From the other.

Half smile,
The rare dimple in perfect
Pleasure to the eyes,
But never outlandish laughter.
( Like a woman who knows she has
You in her trance)

   Hip bent to one side,
Arm defiantly attached to bent hip,
Her dress of flowers flow like
A mobile garden,
The air seems to glide around every
Curve and dress wears her well.

The eyes of men
Become magnetised,
Through which the world
Is observing her magnetic frame
The smile piercingly gradual,
Yet playful, still a touch of vulgarity.

Woman, whose smile
Beckons a portrait,
You walk with depths
Unknown, but the abyss
Of your smile
And the eyes jumping in.

Remember something that ties,
Something that holds
Holds the stilled face
In the cavernous heart,
Like a shirt worn
In a way that it tore
Itself into your mind,
Because they cannot see
Time and the finite body
Cannot contain the soul,
But remember the spirit
Of the displays through flesh,
Because the infernal
Tear that burns
Upon dying cheeks whom
Utter hate and love
With last breaths at the same
Time joy and sorrow complete
Then whispered life,
They cannot wear another
Sleave, adjust another collar,
Wear that shirt in a certain way,

Because the body
Is only action
In a windfall,
And every one grows apart
To syncing the mad pace
Toward death,
Because the earth swallows
All,
Please, please remember
Something that ties,
A memory's drift
The eye of invisible winds.

There are those who would think
The world is flat, that holds true
To to preemptive thinking and
Makes the world a little more complicated:
The work of conspiracy is one thing,
I have come to say why not if I
Have not visited the upper stratosphere,
But I believe in a round moon,
Because I see that crescent smile
Among the spirit mending stars,
Though just my little opinion.
I speak to the beginners who will
One day know the truth
Between the lines of thoughts
And truth when round things
Like home and life seem flat.
I stare across a flat ocean,
All the pines that seem linear,
The mountains that dare reach
Further I see with round eyes.
And the complicated is welcome,
As neighbors might stay for the conversation
Just a little longer before night's
Interruption, just some thoughts,
Flat earth round the world,
I say this because I speak to you,
Behind every conspiracy is a friend
With words.

Who am I to harvest a dream
When cities are buried and sanctuaries
Become ruins all in the name of....
     And I see that life is worth nothing,
    The streets are empty now,
     Families in pieces
    And some horrid prophesy comes true.

Devastating air, suspended in waves,
Horrid and flaming,
Why Extinguisher of the world
Have you come now to the
Final Earth?
Were we not capable
Creating our own hell?
Land of my Mother!
Land of my Father!
I see the battle rages all across
The face of the earth,
Shall I feed my children
The inherited devastation?

And it is a war of Worlds of worlds,
My mind versus you.
In the flow of the river
I began as a drop
Filtered at the edge of the moutain
Becoming what a perfect intention
Usually flowers into.
At the precious moment
I left an eternity of thought.
And all i see has passed me by
When the present was gifted
And abnormaly
Absent from minds eye.

Observed by ears
    An unfolding vertical orchestra,
Smelled by my eyes
      I touched the aroma in her hair,
Like the nakedness of gentle air
      As fingers run through your name:
    
      Speak of the instant
And I can sense you even in dreams,
      The infinite moment
With you is a canticle of senses.

In the streets of sunrise his
Name is unknown.

Blend of dirt and vagrant
Under said bridges.
     Lowly
Living under storms.
    Stillness of hunger,
Sad, sorrowful,so wise.

    We will sit in rooms
Upon the chairs with laptops,
     Filtering his memory
That no Google search will find,
     He has no screen name.

The only backup memory
Inside his faceless book.

Insane like a heartless confession,
Soul sessions,
Reality of the beast spreading infection
I Spread the Ded in Poet,
Like a sobering moment-
Know it,
I take you down with me
As you took me to highest heights,
When you leave:
Even crickets seem to sigh at night,
Revelations
Pain soars hand in hand with happiness,
Ironical elevations,
Teleportation
Body and soul
Better for the sickness,
I see i love you,
Destroyer of beauty with the quickness,
Personal mixing with business,
What is this,
A brokenness with every decision,
Precision demolitions,
Words of fire.
Love the ammunition,
A contradiction conflicting,
Happiness sickening,
Bring on the quickening
Pace,
Face of the beast,
Hopeless in your light,
I see when its too late,
I earthquake,
Shake my head though,
How much of me can you take,
I still beg you dont leave though,
Lets be clear yo,
Im intentionally devided,
Lifetime glitch provided,
I cant hide it,
Fight it.....
Im down for you,
You go, i go,
Us against the world;
Easy though,
Me against you,
I really dont know.

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.

Im a loner
Thinking about the bigger picture
Knowing i am a backround pixel,
High definition of my sorrow
Displayed in the domain
Of the public eyes
For all to see me on my naked
Cross and filter the words of my
Pains
Written on a bed of life,
A whisper in the echoes,
I word written for me
Since my life is unspoken

Eastern philosophy,
Western ideals,
Southern simplicity,
Northern reverence;
In the sanctuaries of the mind
These winds are truly worth
Beholding;
The winds have eight directions.

Wading,
A miracle in the water

There in the distance
A star sinks elongated

One life,
Sailing seven days

Seven seas blue
From a sky too far to sail

Dark waters
Under enveloped storms

Why sink
When floating in the air,

Just below
Above the sky of the sea?

Seven seas
I will never drink....

Life waters.

"If you live long enough in the dark,
          You can see and appreciate
                  Everything in the light"

                       Dedpoet

I was scared once,
I realised the wrong was nothing
And I filled my own mind
With doubt.

What is guilt but the sin never
Committed? I said nothing
But words still rose against me.
And I stood my ground
Against the lie,
Ready to die for my truth,
I remained unspoken.
Accused of what and I dont care
Because I never knew the why....

Take me,
A million ways to die
And my words never spoke
What lies fed your heart,
Guilt was not my motive,
Only the fear of nothing
Commiitted in my name,

Im here in the fire,
Cool breeze running
At the sweat of words that
I never spoke,
And I can die a man,
Unspoken.

Because once I hated myself,
I didn't know who I was,
Depression ruled me,
And I never knew life in its forms;
      Suddenly I saw a place,
      Words had shapes and life,
      They held things like truth,
      But most of all truth of self.
See, if you write honestly
Then you can see outside
Of yourself, you become
More aware of the world.
     I figured the world was crazy,
     But I found a certain beauty
     In that too, so I wrote my depressed
     Self, all my pain.
I wrote for me,
to discover myself,
And you know what?
I found that I can tolerate
The world around me and
My crazy self through these lines.
     Now, I don't hate myself as much,
     I try to help others expand their
     Understanding of this artful
     Therapy, and I leave those
     Who cannot see beyond their
     Yesterday in that place.
Poetry is a way of dealing
With life's pain and social
Sharing of the craziness of poets.
But sometimes you see those
Who cannot move on,
Be careful, sometimes misery
Loves company.

Pieces in the mist,
The living waters:

The melancholic grace of
Sorrow,
The crow sings for the dead.

The nostalgic réminiscence,
Joyful frames in the afterglow.

All is a stillframe
In time's gallery.

Melancholic family,
Stained memories,
Too deep for now,
And yrsterday becomes them,
I am,
But was in eye
Of beholden past.
Take me away
But do not converge,
Blood runs deep like
Yesterday's gathering.
Water in the new day,
Unbeknownst....
And love me for who I am,
Strange the stranger
Becomes a family
Grateful for today....
Blood gone
And only the unfamiliar
Dwell.

And I am everything
In your aloneness,
Torn sorrows that bloom
In your cadence of tears,
I am grateful
For the pieces left intact....

Grace of a broken moon,
Woman among the Seasons
I see a greyness in Fall
And you are an echo
In the silent forever of my
Frozen sight,
Worthy of the hold
And your mournful touches,
Woman,. I can carry your pain.

It will be ok,
As I see you glimmer among
Dark stars,
The spectrum of your pain
Allows you to run to me,
I am the Spectre in the sad fields,
Grains that remain seeds
And a new beginning
Will leave me to find
Another broken dream.

On summer days
When the sun bore no fruit
For the over heated construction crew,
My father would remind me
Sitting in his 1995 Ford 350
How inadequate we all were
Compared to the golden days of framing.

Or he would praise the highest paid
On a Friday, payday whose checks
We're always there,
To build them up for a weekend
And let them rest from their
Toilings under his sun.

From 15 years ago
I can hear his voice,
"Your never going to learn are you?"
In his solitary voice
That confined a tone just for me,
A destination unknowing
For what a father teaches can sometimes
Elude the son with sarcasm
And verbal seeds of invalidity.

Honorable carpenter,
I remember him never missing a day,
His name should be on a wall
Somewhere,
I ask that I inside of myself
Remember the very best of
The very worst of him,
Which was the side I think
Was also the guiding parent.

May he always be ,
That I rise in the mornings
And still hear his voice,
I pour coffee into a mug
And remember.

May my insufficient ways
Honor him with the haze
He draped over my confidence,
I see my father in a certain way,
The eery silence filled
With his voices.

On summer days
When the heat is too much,
My father still pushes me,
I swear the humidity is
Him breathing down my neck.

I begin these words as confirmation
That I have poetry at my side,
To out words into stone, these vast gestures
Of words covering worlds;

And suddenly in this verse a great
Sorrow overtakes me, everything abandons.
I have words but nothing else,
Not even the paranoia of someone watching,
The pen takes over like some cursed one
Taking control of my poem,
The words of the pain inside well up
Like some volcano about to spurt Suns,
What I am about to say is the very
Most personal sadness I carry,
The abyss takes control, I am a blind poet....

Wait, I must breathe,
Close my eyes until hope returns,
The words juggle between the
Light and the darkness,
Waves of emotions sputtering about
Like a boat fighting the whirlpool,
The weight of the words
Like a world on my shoulders.....

        Wait,
There is nothing to write,
Only my pain, just pain in the nothingness,
My dear friend was "Alone With Everybody",
I see now the writing is the same,
Pain and nothingness vs. light and everything else,
These broken words fighting with
Angels and demons, what do they say
But nothing, but everything,

And I write it all anyway,
I am chained to the pen,
All night I want to write something wonderful,
But the Abyss speaks itself when
No one wants to admit it is there,
So now that it is written,
The sun has come up
Hope has returned,
I want to drift into this life full,
Nothing lights the abyss,
Too deep it is to fill,
But the words bridge the pain
To better days.

I, Me,
Once upon the solitary drops
Falling from my faceless
Skies,
Crown me in the womb;
Closed to the Word.

The sloping forest of thought,
Beneath the canopy..
drought of touches,
A calamity in the moment,
Whispers conceived once
Upon another star.

My kingdom is the wanderer,
That most beautiful Nocturne;
Make the romance of aloneness
And upon night fall
Impaled on the twilight
My self shedding personalities.

A distant shadow looks,
The man rides to and fro.

A glance at the missing,
A Father's wind.

The moon in their eyes,
The limping love,

All I see
Of the two moons,

Clouded skies
With trickles of moon
Beams,

I cannot live in the sky.

Every birth that card played out
When lucky hand
Pan handled gold,
Zesty children of the moment
With hollowed souls
And metaphor presences,
Penetrate the eyes when
Spoken to,
Spilled in blood like words
Of worlds long gone,
Whispers at the end
Begging for new beginnings.

And time before it began was yours

Had you only seen what death
           death heeds in
A mournful source
        Battered by memory
At present too late.

It is as though the fire wears
Them,
     A slow burning sacrifice between
Ecstatic generations,
    A sort of martyrdom comes in the
Line of each death,
    The endlessly bloodstained embers
Burnt beneath the tears
   Of those left in the wounds of time.
Alas,
    Every seedling is a grain of energy
In the marrow of the earth,
    So alone with so many
Spilling themselves like fountains
In an anonymous well.
     The question remains
As their days become fewer
Like the few Winter's leaves.
        They enter one another
By the eyes,
They speak in tongues of season
      And yet come upon a last dawn
Seemingly with great depths
Of abyss in a solemn heart.
        The dreams that survive them
Are children lost in a mist,
    Stuck in a whirlwind
Surrounded by Dust.

How small I am under
Your sky!
You, a tall slender moon,
Your hair like wind,
   Outside children at play,
Memory, momentous,
   Words pour out your monument,
I am intertwined like the last Dawn,
   Sun rises,
You swallow me with your eyes,
    I live for unreachable skies
Against the veil of your horizons....

When the delights
Became the norm,
And the spring roses
You planted failed because
You bought that stupid bike,
And my personality
Lost its person,
When one more is all we needed
For an empty bottle
To match the drapes of our
Talks,
This place I loved
Became a Hell,
And home is where the
Heart is,
Surely he is a real estate agent.

Life and other things
Have kept us apart all these years,
Since the day we never said goodbye.
And now grey sprinkles my hair
And I think I'm getting mature....
But I still live hungry in heart,
The sound of your whispered words
At my neck,
Our bodies locked in dance;
Oh the hell with it,
I'm still crazy about you!

Take note the proper
Posture of denial,
Where all things end in laughter,
And I get the joke.

Because we are not where
We once were and can break
A mold,
When a poet goes into action
And becomes his words the
World will not allow it.
The audacity of the poetic
Gesture turning into a romantic
Reality,

******* world,
I break the mold of your mud,
Fake your way out of this;
I win because you tried to stop me.
Swallow the bitter pill,
Rabbit holes go only so deep,
My poem is an eternal univetse
My life in a blink has become a stanza
Lasting longer than the world and
Its game of nothing.

Death may come,
But i live on in defiance,
I never failed myself
And my actions became a poem,
******* world,
Im living a poetic gesture
And raise my *******
On victory.

A man is worth what he senses he is,
Awaken eternal
At the spot of the Moment.

God is family,
Not eternal awakenings,
There is nothing
But now.

Meditation without thought
Is blissful balancing,
   Taken with salts grain
Happiness can be attained.

One knows wisdom is silence,
   Righteousness is in action
Preserving the Spoken Word.
All is as one wills under
The format of God's enourmous
Grace.

Reaping knowledge
Is sowing the future,
Youth is not wasted on experience,
Unless insane repetition
Comes about.

All is a poem,
Life is the word within it,
Speak life.

The sun round about
Turn.

Night teases with other
Days in other places.

The sun under alien skies,
Night carrying distant days.

What we have here is honest brutally,
And the questions sink deep within me as the answers were what I feared.

Im taken like the worst case
And hope is longing for the end.
Such a dark clarity,
More was a lofty thought
And only I can remember
The best in you.

Me, I,
Conundrum to the nth,
Schematic stress.
Worthy I
Deep yes
Float on paper hope,
Stranded Self imposed
Exiled from grace
Rake the spring leaves

Take away the moments
Fill them with everyday,
I am here for a little while
And forever is nothing.
Truth is I can take it all,
Forever in a daze,
The Dedpoet.

Spirit ole highschool,
Fight fight fight.
Naive taking on the
Whole **** thing.

Bein' I in team,
Strolling thinkin smart
Looking the other way.

And I saw the storm
Of my time,
Blew me away,
Cant fight the sky,
Always pours
Or burns ya...

Losing what I aint ever
Really owned,
Fought to get it back
Cuz it wasnt mine,

Fire breathing mad man,
Nah just *******
Thinkin knew it all
And all turned nuthin.

Became aware that
I wasnt....
Help is when you
Ask for it,
And Pride falls like
Titan and giant's 'like.

Woke up,
Grateful and I ain't fallin'
Below that 'ver 'gain.