When I was a child,
I lived around
The corners of houses,
Hiding from your
Crooked nose -
So hooked
It gouged my
Superman courage
Right outta my
Teeny lil' chest.

My legs quaked a little
In my Barbie boots,
If ever I chanced to
Get locked into that
Loony gaze, of yours -

The one that
Stuck, thick on my skin,
Melting me off,
Like that little girl
I saw,
Covered in ****** -

All over -

You know the look -
The one that made me feel bad
For mewing, purring, and
Licking my paws.

Caroline and I
Shared marshmallows
At night,
Faces glowing in
Rainbow light -

Rainbows that peeked from
The filaments that
Twirled slowly,

Too slowly,
Inside Gary's
Glass indigo box,

And shared
Boogeyman dreams
On what types of things
Probably crawled from
Your crow's nest hair.

--

I saw you last week
In your silver convertible,
Fly away's tied down
'neath Oscar de la
Something,

(Or another)

With cherry red lips,
A silk blouse that slipped,
Flirtingly from your
Shimmering, bronzed
Shoulders,

Beauty on your lips,
Beauty in your hair,
Beauty spilled
Right 'cross your face,

Beauty in your poise,
Even in your toys,

Wait -
Beauty?

Had my wide eyes deceived me?

I found an old snapshot
From your date night out -
The night you should've been
Watching me,

And saw,
With my two,
The you that I knew,
'cept, actually,
You looked
Just the same -

Though, your wild hair,
Now tamed -

Plus a wrinkle and
Maybe a gray.

An addict still has sense,
And if he’s wise,
Still, wisdom -

It is his will
That stands in question.

"I wish I wasn't obsessed with words,"
He says.

"Oh, me too!
… except, not really,"
I reply.

"You see, I have kinda, sorta, possibly, maybe,
(Completely and so very utterly)
Developed this odd sort of weird little “thing” for words.

Words, for me, are kinda like that guy that drives you up the walls -
You’re crazy about him.

He’s in every thought that creeps into your mind.

Every move he makes,
You want to pop into your mouth
And roll around for a bit,
Because you know it must taste somethin’ delicious.

But, you can’t **** on it too hard,
Because you want it to melt
So, so very slowly,
As to not disappear too quickly.

He’s that guy that does you somethin’ silly!

Makes you smile so hard
And do things with your body
That make absolutely no sense -

But, only because he makes you feel so good
That you haven’t a danglin' clue
On what to do with yourself.

He’s that guy that makes you,
Every once in awhile,
Lose sight of things important.

That guy that’s not altogether good for you,
But, you simply can not get enough.

--

So, I mean, yeah.
Sometimes, logic says,

If you’d just break up with words,
You could get a whole bunch more of your junk done,
Rather than dwelling on every single thing he does.

But, my heart,
Trusting my logic,
Replies, adamantly, saying,

*Yah - but, I don’t think I can.

Broken lines dangle between
Vital voices at Waterloo.

Slick Rick on one end,
Skips and laughs-
Parading his mangled heart
On his crookedly stolen stick-

Draws circles with it
Around a blinking fire
That has risen,
Around some bush.

Olive sits firmly,
Scissors in hand,
Eyes shut, palms to the skies,
Though,
She skips and laughs sneakily,
Crying out, please, oh Popeye,
Save me!
Having slipped out of the bind,
Rick put her in.

6 Silver bunnies,
With empty pockets,
Sit, twitching
On gold mine expenses,
Looking for those who will come
With precious carrots,
Once word spreads of their
Glinting furs.

I haven't an empty,
Dead-weight thought
For racing cracks
Of yesterday -

Cracks that split
Faster than crooks

Spinning in
Red-paced,
Screaming lights,

--

Times ago,
Are times I know,
Only in now's
That never end,

And times to come
Are simply from
Times, the same as
Now and Then,

So, when I spend
Hours within
The greenest greens,

Glowing near
Bashing violets,

Or dance with
The street,
Feet locked in repeat -
Communion
With dirt red brick,

You'll know why these things,
Tickle my wings,
And why I choose

Now,

As my
Sweetly,

Forever.

Ain't a soul of us, without dark spots.*

Not lacking
In don't's
That have been done,

In rues
Of arson -
Like
Matters

That, simply,
Will not go
Away.

--

Today,
I asked
A sweet birdy -

Just once-

If he would
Sing
'Til my
Dumb heavings
Shut up.

To hear how I
So needed
Him to say
Something beaming -

Something
That would melt ice
That had begun
Its branding -  

Ignorant,
It went on,
Pecking rocks
At my toes.

So, I stapled
My bad day
To its back.

Head hot, in
Black heat,
Quick,
Shufflings of feet,
Sent the birdy
On its
Forced agenda.

Then, I saw
That sweet birdy
Get snatched,
By a beast

Thrice rabid,

On its way
To attempt such a feat.

Dry sickles
Burned my throat -
Some ugly and sad -

With broad cries
That never met
Words.

Though,

The sickles rose far,
Burned that ice
Into scars -

So, I guess,
The bird did away
With my blizzard.

I kept saying,
That I was finished.

But, then I'd
Forget
To close the bag,
Before turning my attention
Elsewhere.

Only to
Look back,
Five minutes later,
And notice
The bag still open.


"Hmm..
Well, maybe,
One chip more..."

I kept saying,
That I was finished.

But, then I'd
Forget
To close the bag,
Before turning my attention
Elsewhere.

Only to
Look back,
Five minutes later,
And notice
The bag still open.


"Hmm..
Well, maybe,
One chip more..."

why bother
with relaying how
your words
somehow
seem akin
to mine,

if my words
would be
better off
at home

.

And, this bit of line,
Here,
Tells me why your heart’s
Achings pour out
So thickly
In your sighs-

Why you paint on
Boisterous smiles,
To draw away from
Your telling eyes.

My fingertips feeling,

The way the bowl dips,
Deeply,
Full of somethings
Too heavy,
Find the reasons
You can’t fall prey
To those who don't say,
But reveal,

With rottenly
Itching fingers,

&

Why I can't do away with
Those maddening strokes,
That have melted into
Cracks in marble.

You've so many
Drooping wilts,
On a wiltingly drooping line,

Dripping
Downward
In their gentle slopes,

Reminding me
To be gentle
In the way that I
Love you
In ashen days.

Though,

These three little x's,
Snickering beneath your bowl,
Tell me,

You've probably been
Reading me,
In opaquely mirrored ways,

Peering from your bowl,
All along.

I've cast my spell on you.
I've cast my spell, so hard you can't stand it.
I've cast my spell on you, from afar.

And, you have no choice but to give in.*

--

"Is this wrong?"
I sidelongingly asked myself.

"Only if you believe it to be so,"
I said.

I ain't afraid to tell the world,
That you make me,
What I hate most.

That the jellybean drops,
Slippin' from your lips,
Spread like,

Dollops -
Sweet butter,
On toast.

Can't hide my sticky fingers -
Drippin' your,
Candy residue.

Though, I plan to make,
The best of it,
Before the moon is new.

My sternest strategies,
'neath the night's eyes,
Light my ***** little schemin',

My plot to watch,
Your every step,
Before the moment,
That I steal you.

--

I've been eatin' jellies,
Since I was little -
Today, I've tasted so many,

But, the ones that slip,
(And, sometimes, skip)
From that head,  

Drive my thoughts,
Out, much,
Too selfishly.

A degree above that happiness
That makes you want to
Squirm about, for-
What seems-

No
Apparent

Reason.

Do you remember when the universe told you my fingers were magic?*

I do.
I thought it funny of Him,

To do it in such a small way.
In a way so silly,
No one would remember,
My secret,

The universe had spilled.

I, sometimes, think of,
All of the people,
Who could answer,
"Is there life after death?"

I get jealous, because,
There, once, were some,
Who - now -
Have such an answer.

But, then I remember those people are dead,
And, how that may actually ****.

Are my scars saying words,
Too frankly to you?

What of my wounds,
That have yet to heal?

Is my courage too loud,
For you, Sir Proud -

Am I too brokenly real?

I've heard the moon whisper,
On several occasions -
Stories and things,
That tell what life will bring,

And what to bring to it.

At dusk, the moon laughs,
With me, in the garden-
We hold hands,
And share our secrets.

The moon tells me who,
I should cling to,
And, I, how the clinging did fare.

We kiss and run after,
The stars - though, I'm shackled to,
The earth, with too much to care,
For.

There are bumble bees around the corner,
Waiting to land on the tip of your nose.
Thick, flower nectar, dripping from above them,
Fated, to catch you in your, "Hello."

When the beaming sun beams,
We say lovely things,
And spread them about,
For those near,

To feel it within,
To take part in -

To share it with those
Who will hear.

When the sun disappears,
The moon's light rears,
Sprinkling taboo gems about,

For us to tiptoe and choose,
To place in a ruse,
Of words to enjoy during, Lights Out.

Neither a shortage of daisies,
To pluck from this field,
Nor, unwelcoming nuances met,

Only waves of inspiration,
Covered in chosen sensation,

An oasis for the itching poet.

I kissed you in your sleep last night,
And you rolled over with a smile.

Then, I poked your little nose and sighed,
And smiled back for awhile.

*05.2011

I laid nose-to-nose, in tall, old grasses, with a spirited coyote, some nights ago.
He said to me, with lips unparted and low, shiny eyes - to listen.

Hesitantly, I inched forward and nudged that coyote with my face, prodding him for something more.

But, nothing came.
He simply stared back at me, unblinkingly.

“I listen!”
I shouted with a heart on fire.
“I listen more than anyone I know!”

The coyote continued his staring game, quieting my bosomed flames.
Stubborn - they erupted, something ugly, from the valley, into the mountaintop.
Spilling from eyes, in the mountainside, I screamed back into his so loud,
The mountain ached from its shut in echo.

Patient " the coyote waited.
So, I stopped.

Somehow surprised, I found that, after the flames subsided into greys of ashes, in silence, I had begun to listen.
That coyote’s eyes were urging eyes, unmoving " unrelenting.

Obedient, I drew forth my worn, careful bag out and placed it, gently, in the dirt between us.
The coyote snatched it, in the grain between our breaths, and held it between clenched teeth.

I glared at him with challenging eyes " he stared back at me, just the same.
I reached out to grab it, but halfway there, I heard the coyote command me,

“Stop.”

The coyote lay there, my ashes raging about loudly " still silent, my bag between his teeth.
As the ashes settled, his glaring eyes mellowed, and I watched as he gobbled it up.

--

A crow cawed somewhere.
The full moon shone down approvingly.

My soul sighed once.
My body followed.




The coyote slept -
I bowed my head in silence.

I created a couple on Sims, once.
They were so fantastically in love.
Together they made Gabby,
And a roughling, named Danny.

And, they all lived together,
In Flat 1.

One day, the dad dropped the kids at school,
And, off he went, to work.
I let Taylar, the mum, cheat,
With a stud, on repeat.

Now, I’m just waiting,
‘Cause I know what will come.

Gordy, the dad, who’s still in the dark,
Went to meditate in the park,
There, he saw Taylar,
With Benny, the sailor.

Cue, the planned brawl,
In the street.

Gordy, the dad,
When it was done, had won.
Taylar, crawled back, so sweetly.
But Gordy’s no fool,
He said they were through,
And, sat her junk out on the street.

Taylar the *****,
Went down to the bank,
To clear out Gordy’s account.
But, smart Gordy had listened,
And, cleared out his pension -
Knocked Taylar right off her feet.

So, now, Taylar’s reflecting,
And Gordy’s out flexing,
His muscles he found,
In pastime.

Gabby, so sweet, has started to teach,
While, Danny leads group rock climbs.

Soon enough -

Mum’ll find a new beau,
Dad - a darling, in tow.
Everyone broken -
Now mended.

They all will be fine,
Everything works, in due time,
By the point, at which the story has ended.

(You will make best use of the following words, if you open the Savannah, Within A Month poem, in another tab.)**

It was brought to my attention that I somehow managed to write ALL of the emotion but too few clues in my piece to relay the entire story.

Though, this was done intentionally, due to my reluctance to actually tell the whole story, I do want you guys to be able to read the words written in between the lines, without my losing what I’ve created, by undoing the strings that weave in and about the poem:

In case you missed it, Judy first reviewed my poem commenting on the wistful feeling that appears throughout the piece and the additional sadness at the end. She thought that, perhaps, my father had left us.

Well.
Yes…and no.
This piece is a really twisty thing of a piece that hangs off the edge of, “Oh, I get it!”
… even for me.
But, it’s that deja vu bit that makes it hard to grasp.
So, let me lay out a few things:

The airport bit, at the end, was referring to when I would leave for Savannah
…indirectly “because,” of my dad leaving.

But, it was just a mental leaving, that happened.
He never actually left.

All of the emotion was there, but I chose to write, instead, about me leaving for Savannah, rather than my dad leaving for another woman.
So, I end up talking about what actually went on, but instead of ending the story with, “and then he left,” i end it with, “and then i left.”

I tend to have trouble putting issues I haven’t actually dealt with yet, into words.
I apologize.
But, somehow, talking about a direct “result” of the issue was easier.

But, the whole foreshadowing of his leaving (which is written in between the lines), shows up throughout the entire poem:

The mood of the relationship between my parents was written into the first stanza.

The way mum thought about the issues between her and my dad, into the second stanza.  

Me wondering about deja vu (and indirectly, from my current standpoint, the deja vu i had just recently (that im almost sure i had then - about them splitting)) + Mum’s frustration and the effect it was having on her, into third stanza.

My attitude about her burning her finger bc of my question, in the fourth.

Her brushing me off about all of it, in the fifth.

My attitude THEN about her brushing the question off + my attitude NOW about her brushing the entire situation off, in the sixth.


-Then, actual recent accounts of deja vu come into play-

I asked dad if he was “working late at the office again,” -
But, immediately, i zone out, bc i’m experiencing deja vu,
(the smell of grits, i inserted to, in a roundabout way, say that it was somehow connected to the earlier events in childhood),
except this time, though it felt like deja vu, it seemed as if i foresaw them splitting when i was younger, but i was seeing it…….just then?

(deja vu is already confusing - and this little twist on it took me for a spin!)

Either way,

The stolen wine bottle was from the deja vu i'd had - It is placed to foreshadow an event that WOULD take place (there is a literal wine bottle i need to secure lol),
But also, since it felt like a foreshadowing, in the past OF the past, the wine bottle symbolizes my parent’s marriage being stolen by another woman.

The still frozen cookies symbolize me feeling like I was, somehow, stuck in my childhood, when it all was happening.

P.S. Not relevant to the understanding of the story, but the cat doubles as me, attempting to get the answers I wanted. I wanted her to just "realize" and use her mother's intuition to just "know" what to say to me and how to say it. But, she didn't. "So, I just asked."

Once, when my curls still tickled, only the tops of my ears,
Mum quietly ironed my daddy's pants - he ate his cold grits and eggs.

She thought I didn't see her see me watching the cat,
Claw at her leg - And so, I just asked,

"Why does déjà vu  only come too late, for me to know what I should do?"
She wrinkled her nose, instead of sayin' and,
Singed her spider-leg fingers.

--

So, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

"Baby," she said, as she shook her head, "You shouldn't fret over things like that."
She continued her ironin' - the cat kept clawin',

--

And, I sat there.
Somewhat, unsure.

--

I asked my daddy earlier, yesterday, if he would work late, down at the office.
He began saying some words, but very few were heard,

My attention smelled -
So much -
Like grits.

I saw the wine bottle stolen and my cookies still frozen,
Yesterday,
But, in a way,
Soon after the airport.

How do you make your triangular squares,
Spin into yellow circles?

First they were blue,
And, before I knew,
It, they were fading into pinks,
Unglued.

I've tussled with logic,
Inside of my pocket,
Picking you slowly apart.

Now, I've given in,
That's it - You win.

Poetic - Your soul is an art.

I once saw the edge of time flip over,
Into the middle of two days ago.

So, I sat right through it,
Because, I already knew it -

Realized opportunities,
Lost in the cosmos.

--

Just now,

I saw the beginning,
Of time flip over,
Into our section of the universe,

How many years,
Do you think disappeared,
Or doubled,

In this single discourse?

Half-breed kitty cat,
Mewing through the gate,
"Too few marbles in your bag,
To paw over this way?

I ain't got no mites in my fur,
Just spots my mama gave me.
We even moved into this yard,
And out that ***** alley.

Excuse my rasp,
From the sharp, sharp glass,
That stuck in my throat last summer.

As, a kind ol' woman took it out for me,
But, left a piece - though, I forgive her.

I promise I'll be fair,
If I can play,
And paw at your pretty marbles.

I'm a kitty cat too,
Like the lot of you,

Just as kitty,
And, just as able."

---

"Oh, I'm not allowed,
To even join the crowd,
'cause my fur ain't as yellow as yours?

Well, I'm a kitty cat queen -
Know what I mean?
This world will open up,
Better doors."

Halfway through yesterday are the words I forgot,
To stash inside your closet.

Lost hallelujahs for your too charming smile,
Halt, just shy of, "In a minute!"

You would like those thoughts -
Those full, careless thoughts -
Forever slipping into,
Politeness.

The too-telling giggles,
Hidden in slick eyes,
And smuggled in,
Feigned aloofness.

Meet me at your mind's found corner,
In its lipstick and hot-combed hair.

We'll share some words,
That we've never heard,

That will sneak us off to whenever.

I never cried at your misplaced words
Though, I felt them,
So carefully,
Gnawing
At
My spirit.

My heart only cried wet, dragging words
That loved hard
And too quickly
After
Your wayward self.

Filthy words spilled from your blackened lips,
Telling of your innards.

But, I couldn't let go
That somewhat glow
I kept glimpsing
Before you shut down.

In the moon's attempt at a soothing beck
Is tendence to insatiable hunger,
Pretending, between breaths, I couldn't hear
My own growlings clawing in your thunder.

Teary eyes and hopeful eyes stare down
Frozen and thoughtless, cold eyes,

Until I glance away
With nothing to say,
Ignoring the impending,
Yearning.

I thought sirens were voluptuous women,
Who sat upon rocks and sang to men,
Who couldn’t think past,
The tips of their *****.

I was sure they had the longest hair,
I had ever seen,
That swore to you,
It had met with eternity.

Through rose-scented ears,
And rose-budded drapes,
I had heard of their full, soft *******,

That breathed airily beneath,
The green beads of the sea,
Speaking, softly, of impending agendas.

"

But, I found out yesterday,
Their hands are great,
Yielding rough spears,
Rather than white sarongs.

They’re not sitting at all -
They actually stand tall,
Looming over you,
With ***** of their own.

Babies are a nuisance.

They require I spend extra time,
Bottling my honesty,
To feed them slowly,
With excessive precaution.

Attention must be paid,
To dribbles on chins,
I must clean up,
When they simply,
Can't keep,

From spitting out bits,
Of it that won't fit,
In their mouths,
So underdeveloped.

My mama’s shoes,
Fit my feet too snug, now,
For me to look cute, still, slippin’ them on.
I’ve no need of her lipstick, nor her raspberry rouge,
To make my face look, more, like hers does.

I’m a big, daddy’s girl, who has known the world,
But, not quite enough to really fit in.

--

I still heart,
Sunshine and rosies,
And, playin’ with mah toesies -
Eatin’ froot loops and pokin’ at roly poly’s,
Makin’ colourful cupcakes, covered in sweet gummies,
To eat inside forts filled with last winter’s lights,

Too,

Eatin’ Caramel Delights, sneakily,
Stolen, in spite - of the weight,
I was fightin’ so easily.

--

Perhaps,

When the adults are all done - playin’ house, for fun,
I’ll bring my cookies from the fort, to the table.
We’ll have coffee and speak of the stats,
For the week and laugh about,
Hart's becoming unstable.

And, I shall wear loafers,
That pinch at my,
Toesies that fidget,
Crazily,
Beneath my seat.

I'm not afraid of the galganaut,
Peering out from his overgrown huddle,
Inside his hole in the brook,
That I once mistook,
For the water faeries',
Hide-n-seek cove.


I won't fall for his,
***** ol' tricks,
And bluffs -
That slick beast,
In his feast, on those,
Deserving, the least -

The slow and naive,
Who believe what they see,
But, refuse to see,
What's there.


That cove has eyes,
If you'd just look inside!
Garish and eating,
Your soul,

Before its looks,
Reel you in,
With its hooks,
Of tin,
That you cradle,
Simply, 'cause
You can.


A victim, no more,
To the galganaut,
And his tendencies,
Toward swift,
Deception.


For, what?
I don't know,
But, to me,
He's no more.


I have whited him from,
My reality.

On some day I'd forgotten,
Three winters ago,
I stumbled across,
Room 8.
Courtiers from within,
Beckoned with questionable smiles,
That stabbed at,
Intently,
Curiosity.

Just beyond,
The garnished door,
Lay carpet so lush,
It seemed to,
Glisten,
With its own beads of sweat,
That met,

The never coming ends,
Of rambunctious, silk drapery,
That dripped -
That dripped -
From the ceilings in reds,
So red they wrestled with passion.

And a peek beyond,
I couldn't keep my glimpse,
From pooling onto the,
Glasses,
That quivered.

Panes that gave way,
To silent,
Slain spirits,

Rocking back,
And then forth -

Spirits who had,
Lost,
Their ***** words,
To emotion.

Is this what passion feels like -
Lingering in the nook,
Created between damp lips met in soft quiverings?

Idling saucily in the bowl that,
Balances in my shoulder -
Dripping down my chest, to my breast
And resting...

Does passion taste sweet,
With a hint of anger,
That sounds like,
If one's lips won't suffice,
The teeth will?

Teasing with fury,
As if tempting the jury,
Peeking down at one,
From above.

---

Or, is passion the heat,
That arises between,
Two lovers, merely,
Sharing a kiss?

I lost my thought somewhere,
Over there,
Behind my leftover thinkings on time.

To the right of whenever,
I last forgot to remember,
What is was with I wanted to rhyme.

I try to remind myself,
Quite often,
To post stickies to help me recall.

But then the thought to look,
Gets lost in some nook,
And, the whole deal slows down to a crawl.

We're all human here, right?

Why, then, is my side, most human,
Something bidden I hide?

---

Mockings chant their mocking things,
Swinging from the hinges of reality.
While, sneers and jeers born from,
Overgrown fears,
Leave small ****** in my ripe heart -

Unceasingly.

At the door, my mind assured me, go,
And my feet, those dumb things, did listen.
Went right into havoc,
Wreaked solely by tragic,
Souls, so pathetic, I can't even stand it.

Who's ripping up my soul so darkly,
Save, me and the audience I've made?
Surely, the swift-sounding people,
With valiant battles to battle -
Are too busy to waste time at the gallows.

You dug the hole,
And jumped right on in,
I merely picked up the shovel,
And finished it.

Though, now, my heart aches,
So red and opaque,
Curse you,
For doing you in.

07.2011

Sometimes, I cradle Sir Moon in my arms,
And half-whisper him to sleep.

I haven't seen that man in his own,
For too long.
So, when he's blue,
We nap together.

Sometimes, the moon melts,
Into puddles on lakes,
And ripples out into forever.
Hadn't smelled a ripple,
Until that very first night.

Smells like ink would - I think
Were the ink frozen.

But, every so often,
The moon is fine,
Full, after its harvest of,
The month's reverb.
And, on that night,
Is when I dance in full-flight,

Crazy, in the moon's elixir.

---

The night makes us mad.
The moon makes us loony.

Perhaps, that explains a lot.

You feed me jewels of golden grapes,
With your lips’ sweet verbal confections.
You warm my heart with your godlike smile,
A source of our connection.
Peer into these orbs of glass,
And gaze into my soul.
Know that you, without a doubt,
Are the one I long to hold.
You douse my heart in smiling things,
You paint glowing across my face,
And, in between your enchanted fingers,
My own ones find their place.

I’ve never fallen quite so fast,
Or cared so much so soon,
But your whispered words and slight, sweet touch,
Spiral me to the moon.

I can hardly say for sure it’s love,
For, I’ve never found love so true,
But if you ever chance to fall,
I’m falling in behind you.

*07.2009

Bitten by a bitter asp,
Scorched by a flame,
Conned by a sneaky fox,
And charmed by his game.

So, excuse me, if I’m wary,
Of your silky, smooth orations,
Or bewildered and maybe slightly scared,
Of these somewhat odd sensations.
My soul is bidding that I run,
From your words, so much like his,
But, my heart commands my feet to stay,
Afraid of what I’ll miss.

Afraid, also, that your tender touch,
Is tender in only practice.
Frightened that your wooing game,
Will end shy of the kiss.

Yet,

What if your lips are sweetened with,
Sugar in its purest state.
And, your eyes whisper to me, not lies,
But secrets of our hidden fate.
I want my heart to beat with yours,
And to allay these silly fears.
But, how can I know that you won’t go,
And leave me fighting tears?

I trust you with my kisses,
With my rain of sweet affection.
I give to you my drowsy dreams,
For a feverish night’s connection.

Though my heart wells up with age-old songs,
At the whisper of your name,
And belts them out on every corner,
It’s within my own breast, all the same.

My fingers idle at the thought,
Of unlocking my heart once more,
Leery of the childish stitching,
From heartbreaks done before.

Cross your heart, and say you’ll stay,
To love me through the night,
To narrate my dreams, and welcome the beams,
That pour in from waking light.

To give my heart is to give my love,
To the one I most adore.
And, when it’s true, I swear to you,
My heart and soul is yours.

My dreams are dreams of black and white.

I dream of the late Cool Hand Luke,
And Big Daddy in the rain.
I dream of Hepburn, where it's hot,
Of Skelton upon his stage.

I dream of Jeannie,
Of Lucy's man,
Of Hitchcock's crazed suspense,

And of my freckled friend, named Opie,
Relaxing with Papa Griffith.

Jethro swings from chandeliers,
As daddy fends off fiends.
Granny ***** that little hand,
Signaling the end.

I have seen your underbelly, so pink,
And have pressed my heart against it.
I have heard the chantings of your soul,
And beneath those lashes, secrets.
Many a striped coat, you so vigorously don,
To warp and distort what we see,
But, I'll sit here and wait,
Because, I've met with Fate,
And have seen the pink underneath.

Welcome to my world, dear friend.
This, now, is ours to share,
To wander through and discover anew,
As a delightfully enlightened pair.

Come sit at Reflection Creek with me,
And gaze into Our eyes.
Learn the water's shimmering secrets,
That unravel so many lies.

We'll dance about this realm, so new,
To feed our hungry hearts,
And have communion with our fathers,
Who live among the stars.

Are you ready to embrace the quaking Earth,
That trembles with a thousand stories,
And dive into a looming sky,
That will cleanse us of our worries?

This is a world within a world,
So bereft of any meaning.
But, this world with which we've become apart,
Is slowly intervening.

Open your eyes, and free yourself,
To achieve great understanding,
To know yourself and know the world,
And nurture your heart's expanding.

Stretch out your arms and greet the world
That will soon become your home.
There's so much here to feed your soul,
And it's free for us to roam.

in the darkest part of my mind,
the dingy loony bus idles.
curiosity has foggied up my gray cells.
leftover bits, orange scented peels,
many questions i've left unanswered,
hide in bleak obscurity.

in the darkest part of my mind,
urges to be the me i’m not,
whisper their desires for freedom,
into the static air,
while lighthearted memories of kisses ago,
crumble under the weight of worry.

in the darkest part of my mind,
I cower in the shadows of intimidation,
over papers due in the morning.
bites and fights drown in an overflow of sweet burning,
with discarded pencils and bottlecaps,
and memories lost in laundry.

in the darkest part of my mind ,
the logical makes no sense.
swirls of confusion, reason,
love and distress,
faded memories seeping through gaping cracks,
hair strands sleeping amid teeth.

in the darkest part of my mind,
chewed and smoked tobacco leaves,
taunt their slaving victims,
as cherry blossoms fall from their branches.
empty words twitter back and forth,
hovering between the breezes.

in the darkest part of my mind,
the heart I adore and adore and love,
sours before I know it.
touches have lost their savour.
words and their meanings duck and hide,
the novel falls open to a new page.

in the darkest part of my mind,
friends laugh their laughs and dance.
mom screams at broken dishes,
dad sings his song his song his… tale,
and I write my soul away.

*02.2010

I am singing my song,
Into the eastern winds,
And I know that She will deliver.

And, I am sending a bird,
With a smile in its song,
To massage your soul in its fever.

Pretty little birdy,
Why won't you sing?
Is not the sun's warmth,
A comfort to your wings?
Have not, you flown,
In the untouched breeze,
Beside gales that dance,
Above the crowns of grand trees?
So small and delicate,
Yet, majestic and strong,
Why won't you share,
Your enchanting, sweet song?
Are not, you free,
From the iron of mankind,
From wounds of deceit,
That arrest and that bind?
Do not, you see life,
Through films of purity,
Peering through the mass of lies,
Into the heart of me?
What creature so harsh,
So greatly incomplete,
Would rob nature of its voice,
And, life of its beat?

Pretty, little birdy,
My life needs your melody.
Make my eyes smile once more.
Please, won't you sing for me?

*04.2008

Chances are, you'll fly right by,
But, lesser chances arrest me.
The chances in your silence outweigh,
The chances in your hug goodbye.

But, the bigger things and realer things,
Keep bringing me back to you,
To accomplish some things and unravel some things,
On my way to being with you.

Catch me in my swift decent,
Into something so lovingly new.
Take my heart and take my hand,
And, I'll gladly belong to you.

*05.2011

In the time when,
     A simple toy with bright lights was enough to amuse me,
     An hour in the bath tub was a day of high-adventure,
     An extra cookie, from the cookie jar, made me feel like something special.
    
     In the time when a nap with mom, in the crook of her arm,
     Was the high point of my day.

During the years that,
     The darkness behind my lids squeezed shut was, somehow, brighter than the darkness around me,
     Mr. Teddy snuggled so tight in my arms gave me a sense of impenetrable protection,
     Drawing my feet way up from the edge of my bed assured me that I would not be dragged away.

     During the years that warm milk and a lullaby were my gold ticket to a peaceful night of sleep.

That era is over.

This year,
     Darkness is darkness, such is the peril that lives within it.
     My once precious Mr. teddy has found a new home, in the back of my dark closet.
     My feet dangle carelessly, over that dreadful edge, after all, drawing them up is pointless.

     This year, warm milk makes my stomach turn,
     And, it takes more than a lullaby to drop my heavy lids.

This time around,
     It's the neon lights of the midnight town that send thrilling shivers up my spine.
     I've traded the great splashes and dunks of bath time for flickering candles and violins.
     An extra treat is a starry-eyed dream, for fear of the guilt to follow.

     A chat with mother is work enough.
     This time, I nap alone.

---

I pray for the minutes,
I counted, until,
I heard dad's keys singing in the lock.

I want for the days,
When I'd anger a toe,
And think my world was falling apart.

I dream of the years,
When I'd be hurt by a friend,
And, the next day, share cupcakes over tea.

I wish for the time,
When everything was simple,
And problems were solved with sweets.

---

Maybe, I could pull Mr. Teddy from my closet's corner,
Warm up a nice, big cup of milk,
Draw up my feet, from the bed's cold edge,
And learn to revel in the darkness around me.

07.2008

There's a sea-gem in that sand you're in,
Buried a ways away.
She beams so loudly, in that way that she beams,
Whether the sun smiles at her or not.

There's a tree-gem in that sand you're in,
Fallen from her green-top loft.
Sweetly, she glows at the jewels that she's grown,
That, now, sing of their granted agendas.

She's a free-gem, that tree-gem,
That, sometimes, calls herself sea-gem,
Quietly, carrying out her duties, with smiles.

But, she longs to be found,
That green-gem, some rounded,
By you, poking at rocks and dry clams.

*07.2011

So tartly particular,
About picking from treats.
Throw them all up -
See which lands at your feet.

*07.2011