I could tell a tale, but its really not a tale at all.
It would be a series of endless walks in the forest and the park.
It would be the places between the world where we could find a place to lay,
where we watch the sky,
bow ties of light; ribbons of years long forgot,
when the grass was soft and the fall was colorful secrets,
when children were smarter then man and people were friendly strangers who splash in puddles, the yellow et red fall leaves curtain our forest in,
I see from the train tracks happening of the end,
barefoot in running to a horizon my spirit chase,
It would be its own bow tie ribbon of light falling where you left to climb the other side alone.

I have tried many times to write close to what ought be written,
but I am yet to succeed, the anathematization of happiness is what iced over when we left. Desolate clouds covering the stars,
and steps toward somewhere un-important,
when you were there and I didn’t tell,
why bother you with me.

(1/14/13)

the unborn child still in the womb hoping to come out real soon
it senses its mother is thinking to abort
then its existence would have been much too short.
it tries to scream ti its mother:
i know that i;m not fully developed and that you can not see
how beautiful with me your life will be.

i can not understand as why a gift from God
you would want to end
is this becoming the latest trend?
you have yet to see me , to look at my face
you think you'll have another one to take my place!

what if i was the only one destined to be given to you
then regrets you will have your whole life thru.
does life mean so little to you
because you're in doubt and don't know what to do.

all i ask is the same opportunity that you've been given
when your mother thought that your life was worth living.

please don't classify me as a mistake
for when you open up your eyes it may be too late.
                   (C) L . RAMS

I'm no shaman. I'd follow a plastic flashlight from the astral plane
Time moves fast
And the animal spirits can hear it
Lumbering by, tumbling down from the
Cliff as if it fly,
Destroying the world in its path like a bug in its eye
And I'm part of this Time
Sit on my *** and wait for the visions to come
Letting it pass when I'm wired up to
Vices so quick and so simple to fulfill
Time's faster and stronger than will
I matter no longer, it feels, but still
The shaman life's here in my bones
It's common to all those who know
Perhaps I'm not ready, too green in the head
Or unwilling to part with the trough where I'm led
Or the mechanical fingers from which I am fed
But no, I can see that life surely isn't for me
Though weeks may have passed since I last climbed a tree,
That is ME.
In the cold I don't need artificial heat
I'm strategically weak so I can't beat the system
But listen, the behemoth is plummeting now
It'll drown from its mass, but we shall not go down
For we'll swim with our heads above water,
Summoning fish to swim with us others
These spirits who're tuned in to God's point of view
We can trust them, they love us, they want us to continue
But learn not to follow
The horror and hollow persistence
Of linear progress, in Congress with Satan
That aspect of knowledge which makes evil possible
Sublime in its authority and strength
Designed to be defeated from beneath.

The trees reach up too high today,

they tear at the hem of a cloud


A bridal train in tatters

ribbons of a heavenly shroud.


The waves reach not so high today

as to cover up the shore


They leave me room for walking

and I find I’m wanting more...


...more space more room more mind more prayer,

more heart more soul more vision


A growing space inside of me

crying out for a decision



Today I feel the emptiness

where once he stood with me


The Stone whose name is Weariness

forever there will be.



I found it today; the Stone called Weary;

nestled as it was in the sand.


I wept as I carried it, this Stone called Weary;

it marks where I used to stand.

Looks small
Such piercing words
Such lack of care

Slamming letters onto paper
This is macaroni art for adults

Forgive me for being away,
I haven't stopped, you know
I've just become selective
Not that it'll show

I still write first-drafts
And pass them off as final

I'll show you some real stuff
This is cd vs. vinyl

My back hunches
Like a stuffed bookcase in a corner
Too full
My back laden with possibility
I find myself lost in a maze
Of what should be tranquility
Except you lurk there
Your eyes filled with miserable possibility
I've watched your pale fingers
Turn into twiggy claws
And your green eyes
The ones that look like the sea
Turn cracked and dark
Under the light of the grey sun
She clutches your shoulder
Cackling at how I search
For an exit
And exit from this maze
A maze of possibility
Her stature slouched and heavy
Her hands cold and grey
Stroke your thick hair
And I see the disgust in your eyes
And taste it on the air
I struggle through
Getting closer to you
Trapped in a maze of
Possiblity