Maybe someday our
kindred spirits will cross
paths and ignite our lonely
hearts we thought would never glow.

Maybe it's just because I'm bleeding inside
Or it's because I'm no body and cannot be found
Or it's the bad luck that is always by my side
Or it's the wound that hurts and won't subside
Or it's the skies that never rain nor have a cloud
Or it's my green fields that I love but never find
Or maybe it's just who I am, a man with no pride

Build castles with the stones they throw at you,
so that the pebbles are rather stepping stones to
a much more ambient skyline of your life...
grow a wild flower out the dirt they throw at you
of such a flamboyant bloom rather than gloom,
construct a bridge with the stumbling blocks they create
then match ahead like there wasn't a speck ahead of you
and of the **** they put you through make manure
to boost the crop of your seemingly impossible dreams...
It's about you, words hurt, people hurt, dreams fail
hearts break apart and folks throw dirt
but none of these will ever affect you as long as you
never let them do, stumbling blocks are tinted bridges
pebbles are great foundations, wild flowers are as scented
as roses if only you look on the brighter side...
Build castles with the stones they throw at you and
they'll come asking how you managed to achieve
great success unaware that in breaking you they made you...

This place by the water’s pull
Edge of a city receding
Mumble of industry hollowed by
Twilight sleeping
Civilization pretends deep its normalcy,
Niceties for pillows,
Worry for a dream…

Scattered pixie dust on mesa’s humpbacks, wide
Reflecting sallow on Mission stillness of surfaces
By the sea-music of the bay
The illumination as though
A Sadness : dim yellows once
An explosive gold
So bright before, it gave freely with pride.

Now stars less willing to wink,
Upon melancholy night : a canvas fogged
By deeper covering, similar to
These worries of making it right
All half-hearted before--
True dawn of someday

Half-living, my eyes,
furrowed for the fight
By evidence
Displayed : world in refuse
My own worry, silent
Scripting black this muse
The Dark Inkling
A painting heavy with reality’s
Disemboweling bruise
A painting of futures
On barren earth : embarking :
Our worry : a ruse
Unfeeling if only
A striking of flint-stones together
Just to evolve once more ...

                             The human spark :

                                Love our warmest fire
                                Tiny kisses alight the dark.
                                No worry for our stars:
                                A night sky full of choirs.

                                No fault but in our wars

                                I worry about such fire.

I'm covered in the stain of my own past regressions
I'm buried in the pain of old and new obsessions
I'm crying out in vain, can you hear my confessions
I'm smiling in the rain to hide these tears

from what we have heard she is senile
she will smile and the sun will rise.
take her out to pink pasture, do not heed her caveat,
from what we have heard she is senile and
it is all for naught.
the war did her in, she still bathes there,
in the clouds,
in the tepid spring of father's rigorwater
the dewdrops are full of gas, they must have made her this way
(or, retrospectively, the bombs)
the old war did her in
the sun is risen over pink pasture and i can hear her seizure scream
the clear air fills with smoke and the curtain closes.

imagine if everything was simple
we're all happy and living the life we desire
and we're all content with what we are given

and that satisfaction is genuine
nothing artificial or insubstantial
that's how we all wish life could be

maybe in another life, we would meet
maybe my hand would be in yours
maybe our hearts would belong to each other

if life was that simple, maybe we'd already know each other
maybe i would already mean something to you
but nothing is that easy

yet, i'm still happy with just the thought of you